This section from Hue to Lang Co is the thirteenth instalment of my bicycle ride from Yunnan to Cambodia – if all goes according to plan. Titled “Slap the Belgian!”, it is simultaneously published on Crazyguyonabike.com, where you’ll find a map with the itinerary and many other bicycle diaries by me and others. I hope you’ll enjoy.

Our bikes were set to arrive at 8 am so we happily snooze until 9. After all, we don’t expect any Vietnamese trains to be on time. When we reach the station at 10, there’s still no sign of any trains and the hustlers are still napping in their rickshaws, hotel and tour brochurs in hand. We head to a nearby vegetarian restaurant and join a couple of robed monks for a late breakfast. You need someone like Tu to find out that there are different menus with different prices – but breakfast tastes good and prepares us for the coming ride.

Thuan An beach, left fairly untouched by typhoon Haiyan
Thuan An beach, left fairly untouched by typhoon Haiyan

Upon our return to the station, our bicycles shine on the platform. We pack our stuff and are on the road by 11.30, a lot later than we’d initially planned, but we have plenty of options that we should be able to achieve in one day: either Phu Loc, at around 65 km, or Lang Co at 85 km. The latter will require us to climb two minor passes – we’ll see how we cope.

Our first goal is to get to Thuan An, Hue’s famous beach. From there we will be able to take a quieter road than the murderous highway 1A. The typhoon Haiyan has visited here a month earlier, but with the exception of some rubbish and a few snapped trees, everything seems to be left intact – or rebuilt. Thuan An lies on a long island off Hue’s shore, forming a long and narrow salt-water lagoon between. Needless to say, the island is home to many fishermen and the briny waters filled with nets and small wooden boats.

Houses for the Ancestors
Houses given to the eldest son, where he is expected to take care of his parents’ spirits – note that the ancestor altars are outside the house in southern Vietnam, as opposed to inside in the north.

In the East-Asian tradition of ancestor veneration, most Vietnamese houses have an altar inside where they pray for their dead. Incense is burnt all day long in front of the altar and regular offerings are made. These offerings are often at odds with what Westerners associate with religion: a bottle of coke, a stack of Oreos and a piece of fruit – the ancestors are really going along with the trends.

I learn from Tu that fishermen usually have their altars outside on the boat, which may explain why the altars on this island are all outside the houses. Whatever it is, religion is strongly present in this area. When I first rode here three years ago, I found the amount of tombs and cemeteries along the road a bit eerie, but now I have a better understanding of what it’s all for.

The Christians on this island are making cribs with tarp, some with more success than others
The Christians on this island are making cribs with tarp, some with more success than others

Some houses totally stand out in the row. They’re wildly decorated and sometimes look more like temples, sometimes with steps and colourful spikes, fences adorned with lotus sculptures and decorated gates – almost always with the Chinese character for happiness (福) painted or sculpted on one of its sides.

But the mix of Buddhism and native ancestor veneration is not the only conviction present on the island. Thanks to French colonisation and years of Portuguese and French Christian mission, Vietnam has a strong catholic population, which lives seemingly peacefully door to door with the others. Today, four days before Christmas, they’re getting their houses ready with small Christmas trees, festoons, and even Christmas cribs outside the house, portraying the birth of Christ at Bethlehem. Somehow, in Vietnamese Christianity, Jesus was born in a cave, though, and not in a cattle shed.

Coffee break
Coffee break

After a short sunny spell that lasted all of the twenty minutes we spent drinking coffee, the weather goes back to being grey and it even starts to rain. Apparently, coastal weather in Vietnam is very unpredictable, so we try to make the best of it.

When the rain gets too bad, we take shelter in a small restaurant and eat a delicious bowl of noodles. Just as we give up and buy a plastic rain coat, the rain ceases and the raincoat goes into the bags for later use.

Grade school kids going nuts about our presence!
Grade school kids going nuts about our presence!

We’ve only a few kilometres to go on the island when we arrive at the most picturesque sight of the day: the fishing village of Vinh Hien where several inlets between the houses allow a glance at the lagoon behind. The lagoon, now dark and quiet under ominous clouds, is full of boats crewed by two fishermen each. They are knocking on the bottom of the boat to scare fish away, which then swim right into their nets a bit further away.

Two fishermen in a boat: one beats the bottom of the boat to scare fish away... right into the nets a bit further
Two fishermen in a boat: one beats the bottom of the boat to scare fish away… right into the nets a bit further

We cross the bridge towards the mainland and hope to take an alluring shortcut along the coast to Lang Co, visible on Google Maps only. An old man assures us that there is no road and that we should take the longer route over the infamous highway 1A. I dread the idea, because it’s getting dark, wet, and I know there are three minor passes ahead and the traffic is enough to drive anyone mad.

Tu struggles a bit to take her first pass, but once we hit the highway, she fiercely braves each next one. On the way, we pass hundreds of kids on their way back from school, dodging the insanely loud and fast thundering trucks and tour buses. I can’t believe the government hasn’t thought of a car-free alternative to protect these people.

Several little coves lead to the lagoon between the island and the mainland
Several little coves lead to the lagoon between the island and the mainland

It’s too dark to make it all the way to Lang Co, and Tu’s exhausted, so we decide to stop in a roadside hotel, which is clean but basic to say the least. No sight of soap, only one old towel, no water pressure whatsoever and constant highway noise from the outside, and family noise from the inside. The price, at 120.000 dong, is about right, and there’s no passport hassle.

The friendly owner also scoots off to buy us dinner and beer, which we comfortably consume in our hotel rooms, watching a tv talkshow featuring an American historian who’d just written a book about one of Vietnam’s greatest spies. The wind howls through the building all night, but we’re tired enough to sleep.

Tu working her way up the first of three passes before arrival
Tu working her way up the first of three passes before arrival

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