Rice Wine and Karaoke: The Road to Son La.

It was another beautiful morning in Mai Chau when we set off, heading for Son La, some one hundred and sixty kilometres to the north. I had, however, noticed something which angered me: my front wheel was buckled, something which I had missed when purchasing my motorcycle in Hanoi. Given that I had bought an apparently "re-built" bike, this was extremely frustrating (more problems to come) and led me to survival tip #2: check the bike thoroughly before you buy! Honda Wins are always in need of TLC but I shouldn't have had to carry out a repair on the second day.

Morning in Ban Lac, Mai Chau.

After watching the mechanic remove all the spokes, attach the new rim and spokes, detach them after putting them on incorrectly and then finally get it right, we left for Son La. The bike felt a lot better, since I was now more used to it, but progress was again halted when we had to stop for roadworks. As part of road improvement measures, sand was being shoved by diggers from the top of what might be called a cliff onto the road below, where it was being re-arranged by another digger. We were a source of curiosity for the queuing locals, with plenty of smiles, hellos and bemusement at the camera sticking out of the top of my helmet! We waited for perhaps twenty minutes before being allowed through, when carnage ensued. Lots of motorbikes, lorries and bicycles competing for the same narrow stretch of wet, sandy, gravelled road made for an interesting experience, but all escaped unharmed, somehow.

The road to Son La is a fast one, though bumps, potholes and random stretches where the tarmac has been stripped for work are all frequent, so expecting the unexpected becomes second nature. I'd watched the footage of the day before's ride and Shawn had advised me on my technical errors (approaching corners from the wrong areas), so I was now applying his advice and finding faster cornering much easier and comfortable. Traffic was relatively frequent but, it being a weekend, it seemed that a lot of people were staying at home. Trucks remained a problem, with some comical driving forcing me into defensive manoeuvres, but overall it was a comfortable ride punctuated by waving children and breathtaking scenery.

A view from the road to Son La.

As we closed on our target, we stopped in a village not far from Yen Chau. By now, we were firmly in rural Vietnam and the difference from the city was marked. The main indicator of this was the appearance of the local women, mainly of the Thai ethnic minority. The ladies all wore their hair in the same manner, with a large top-bun, and some covered them with black, colourfully-patterned headscarves, completing the look with white, floral blouses and long, flowing black velvet skirts. The men looked the same as the others I've seen in Vietnam, though their warmth and friendliness was unlike anything else I've experienced in this country. This was seen when I broke a chair (I weigh two hundred and nine pounds) at a coffee stop, the result being laughter all round and then a weigh-off with a local bruiser. I rode off unsure of whether I ought to be pleased at being the heaviest man in the village...

Vietnamese war memorial on the road to Son La.

We reached Son La shortly before dusk, checking into the Truong Sinh guesthouse (on the way into town) before heading for dinner. After being followed down the street by laughing children shouting, "Hello!" and, "How are you?" we headed to a traditional-looking restaurant for dinner. Sitting on cushions on the floor around a table, we were waiting for our food when a man from the neighbouring group came to sit with us, holding a bottle of vodka and three shot glasses. He gestured for us to join him in a toast, which we did. The effect of this was that the other eleven men each came in turn to our table, insisting on a toast and serving us our own food. We then joined their table, where the spirits continued to flow (though, peculiarly, the effects were not particularly strong, probably because the measures were in fact half shots) before we were invited, as their new friends, to karaoke! We initially protested that we had to sleep before our ride the next day but they were having none of it, since we were their guests and friends, so in the end we less-than-reluctantly agreed to go. After pulling me over for a faulty light on the way, I was relieved that the only thing which I received from the assembled policemen was a plethora of smiles. Phew. On our arrival, we found two crates of Bia Ha Noi waiting in a room with a large screen, microphones and a massive songbook. Suffice to say that I can't sing in Vietnamese (nor can I in English) but a lot of fun was had. I was again touched by the generosity of these men, who refused to accept money from us, insisting that we were their friends and guests.

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