Once more the train departs, as always jerking, jumping, bumping and stomping, and finally picks up speed with a moaning last protest. It seems as if this descent is the last thing he would do out of his own desire, but it gets - reluctantly - ahead, slowly and steadily to the south, Nha Trangtoday's destination, eight to ten hours away.
From Hoi An to Na Thrang
A long journey that started early in the morning by bus to Da Nang and now finally - after a good hour of delay - really starts. At first it is still quite cool in the compartment, I am lying on one of the two upper beds and read, the chorus of three female voices in my ears, who have a lot to tell each other.
Diarrhea stories
Sometimes I close my eyes, and as I listen sleepily, I become a connoisseur of all kinds of experiences and insights, tips and must-do's and must-go's, and a whole lot of never-this-and-never do-that.
And so I become also the confidant of the description of a terrible diarrhea, recently suffered by one of the three ladies, causes many horrified OHs and AHs and reminds me of an episode that I would rather have forgotten, of couse in India ...
Yes, all diarrheal stories begin and end this way, but, as it turns out later, the problem for our young Australian friend is far from over …
"The unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry",
I turn back to my book, "The unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry", An old man, retired, bored, estranged from his wife, has received a letter from an old acquaintance in which she wishes to say goodbye to him - as she is seriously ill with cancer. He writes a letter in reply, but instead of dropping it in the mailbox as intended, he eventually finds himself on the road from the deep south of England to Scotland. But it becomes a trek into the hidden depths of his soul, and by walking, without equipment, without required fitness, putting one foot in front of the other, he faces his demons for the first time ...
A sad-beautiful, heart-touching Story.
Southbound
And while Harold Fry continues his lonely journey, the train rushes towards the South of Vietnam, meadows and fields and forests slide by, but I’m already caught in the sad and beautiful, heart touching story of Harold and his long and painful pilgrimage looking for forgiveness …
Na Thrang
Nha Trang, THE ultimate place-to-be, the most famous beach resort in Vietnam. And it plainly sucks. Too many cheap restaurants for even cheaper visitors, drunken tourists in all parts of the city, looking desperately for fun, which means cheap liquor, cheap sex, cheap entertainment. In this city I would not like to be buried, let alone be forced to spend a single vacation day. And yesterday evening it was quite late when we finally arrived. I, though hungry as a wolf, failed again in finding something acceptable to eat.
Sleeping bus
These strangely equipped vehicles are called sleeping buses, but how you're supposed to sleep in these cramped boxes, where it's impossible even for me to stretch my legs, remains a mystery. Well then, we continue the trip, alternately in death-defying Formula XNUMX racing mode and then again tediously slow like Grandpa in his VW Beetle.
Sometimes a stop, like so many. You are led into a more or less pleasant restaurant, where you are already expected business-like.
The curtain opens
But I don't care, and so I doze off towards the south, my sleepy gaze on the passing landscape, gradually changing from yesterday's lush green of the rice paddies to a dry, parched desert. Sometimes, for a moment, the view onto the sea opens up, like a curtain that is briefly drawn and then immediately closed again. But then - shortly before the destination Mui Ne - the landscape drops aside, making way for the blue, seemingly endless space, merging into the gray sky on the horizon, near the shore full of countless fishing boats painted blue and green.
Not a shabby fishing village anymore
And here we are, in Mui Ne, a few years ago a nondescript fishing village, now a famous holiday resort, a few kilometers long, with endless white beaches, with numerous restaurants, to cheer the culinary heart and to fill the pockets of the hotel owners.
That the reality looks a bit different, I will learn soon, but first of all, I got to see the hotel, the Sunrise Village, which will hopefully do honor to its name. I’m quite happy, for a change the room is spacious and clean, and thus quite adequate for a longer stay. And important – it’s only a few steps from the sea.
Oil and dirt
Did I say “endless white sand beaches”? Endless ok, but there’s a lot to argue about the whiteness, because the beach is simply an insult: blackened by oil and grime, full of waste, old fishing nets, coconut shells, and the hangman knows what other things are hidden in the sand … I am astonished by so much stupidity.
P.S. Matching Song: Cafe del Mar - Beyond the Sunset
And here the journey continues ...
