Better Dalat than Never

We had a few hours to kill on the day we travelled to Dalat, so we continued our deep cultural immersion by going to the beach, where I managed to exactly read the first 14% of a book I started the last time I went to the beach, and then returned to the Australian Japanese beer place and ordered English Breakfasts. Woody, a preacher of discriminatory views on eggs, ordered something listed as without egg called the 'Breakfast Potato', which arrived as a bowl full of chopped potato and bits of sausage swimming in molten cheese, with a fried egg on top.

With an hour till pick-up we went to Vinny's Pub and ordered some beers. Mark had an odd green concoction, Woody had an iffy passion-fruit version and I had a simple and delicious standard lager. Downed, we headed back to the hotel to catch our car.

We'd pre-booked our private transport the day before, in-person as the three quite-large men we are, advised we would have three big bags and that we needed driving through the mountain pass to Dalat. They sent us a Kia Picanto. A small Kia Picanto.

Technically it was a 'Kia New Morning', an eastern, stripped-back edition of the Picanto, designed for people who maybe drive to their local shop once or twice a week and don't mind squashing the bread to get it all in the boot. At a squeeze I hold responsible for the disintegration of one of my few remaining Choco-Pies, our bags crammed into the boot and we crammed into the tiny seats and we were on our way. At least there was air-conditioning.

As we approached the steep mountain pass, our driver switched the air-conditioning off. He turned it back on again briefly when we had to stop for twenty minutes whilst they exploded some of the hillside ahead of us, as you do, but as soon as we were moving again back off it went. Not knowing the Vietnamese for "Are you crazy, it's hotter than taking a sauna on the sun in a sweater out there!" we had to just accept it, but it soon became clear why. It was a classic Captain Kirk manoeuvre, divert power to the engines from all non-essential systems and, in doing so, nearly almost get us up the hill.

After being passed on the incline by buses, heavy-goods vehicles and a little girl on rollerskates the car eventually spluttered to a stop at a picturesque little spot only spoiled by the broken-down car in the foreground. Whilst the driver tinkered under the bonnet and tried to recall if he'd renewed his breakdown insurance, we took some selfies and actually enjoyed the opportunity to briefly straighten our contorted legs.

After about fifteen minutes we clambered back in and the car resumed climbing. Not how a twenty-first century car should a road, more like how a rheumatic tortoise might ascend a water-slide. After a while we reached the top and, with an assist from gravity, down the other side. I'm told they also filmed some of the Top Gear special on this road, but they took the turns a little faster.

Around a half-a-mile from the hotel in Dalat, we briefly broke down again. We could have gotten out and walked, but that felt defeatist at this point and we felt we owed it to our driver to stick it out till the end. Or, rather, our end and his halfway point; I didn't much fancy his chances of getting back to Nha Trang.

Once checked into our hotel, called for some unknown reason 'Lavender Tim', we chilled for a bit in the oscillating breeze from our room's fan (no air-conditioning here) then headed out for dinner. I'd found a place in the Lonely Planet book that apparently served local delicacies and I know, I know, fool me once etc. but we thought we'd give it a try. We went to the listed address but it was a guitar shop, but didn't fret as there were plenty other places to pick from.

Of the four or five restaurants on the same short street proudly displaying 'Recommended by Lonely Planet" signs, though presumably due to a mistake at the printing-company omitted from both mine and Mark's editions, we selected the one with an empty table in it called 'Chocolate'. We had an awful, repulsive glass of wine each that tasted like ASDA-brand berry cordial diluted with vinegar. We course-corrected with some Saigon Beer (the red export variety, 0.5% stronger ABV) then ordered our standard spring rolls/wontons/rice-or-noodle-dishes medley. We don't know why the place was called 'Chocolate'; I'd have called it 'Vietnamese Food & Beverages' but then, as I've been told a million times, I have a tendency to be too literal.

There was a bar over the street called 'Woody' that we didn't go in but took a picture outside because obviously.Read more