Today I have got up early, after all primates shall be no morning grouches too. Breakfast is with fried egg, bread and mangosteens – a fruit that I almost adore, very fair. Then I drive once more out with the motor scooter to the Son Tra peninsula. Although I am at 8 o’clock on site, I see today no primates. But on the other hand my first orchid! Probably a species from the genus Habenaria with pretty white blossoms.

To stay on schedule I have decided to go up to Hoi An. After all I have still to organize a trip to My Son and an Easy Rider, who drives me in the Yok Don – National Park.

I am favoured by fortune. My xe om – driver, who calls himself Henry, turns out later to be an Easy Rider. Finally we agree on a trip in the Yok Don – National Park with a quick side-trip to My Son for 160 USD. For that we will spend two days.

I explore then Hoi An. Through the city runs a river, whose south bank is lined with a palm-planted promenade and to whose north bank an old quarter full of nooks and crannies is attached. At the bank stand tightly built yellow houses, whose facades contrast with the hanged red lampions.

In medieval times Hoi An was an important harbour town, from which was traded a lot among others with China. The old quarter with its countless little houses and alleys full of nooks and crannies is still in good condition. But nowadays hordes of tourists worm their way through the alleys. Of course these allure corresponding spivs. At every turn you are beleaguered like the golden calf. Predominantly the highwaymen are about women, but partly they are also little girls. After all a harrowing experience.

I lunch in the Morning Glory. The roasted duck breast with banana flowers and a lot of vegetable sets once more a very thick exclamation mark behind excellence of the Vietnamese cuisine.

Then, in the evening I savour the second culinary climax of the day in the Vinh Hang restaurant. Some dishes are only very regional, seldom in only one city prepared, because it lacks elsewhere of the proper ingredient. Such a dish is Cao Lau. This noodle dish is only prepared in Hoi An. To the unique rice noodles are added finely chopped pork, many soybean sprouts, lettuce leaves and herbs as well as a variety of sauces.

As agreed, Henry picks me up in the hotel dead on 7 o’clock. The ride is premiere for me, after all I sat in Germany never before on a motorbike. At first I have complete confidence in Henry – a small Vietnamese in the fifties, who smiles always and talks nearly always despite of a broken English. However, already after a few kilometres on the highway the ride comes for me to be a hell’s ride. At 90 kilometres an hour I press my butt firmly on the seat of the motorbike. The fingers seize the handle behind me until those ache. I die a thousand deaths before we arrive in My Son. First breathe deeply. After I have paid the admission fee of 100.000 Dongs I can firstly relax. I enjoy the romantic scenery of My Son to the fullest. At 8 o’clock I am the first tourist here and have therefore the temples, which are meanwhile recaptured by the forest and partly studded with lichens and other plants, for me alone. At pleasant temperatures whirr around great, colourful butterflies between the impressive ruins. The single group of buildings are partially separated by small streams from each other and colourful pheasant species disappear in the thicket of the forest, before I can yet whip out my telephoto lens.

I find the remains of the ancient Cham culture impressive. How they still, although they are damaged in a great measure, in the forest glades before one suddenly and sweeping come in view.

At 9 o’clock gather bit by bit further tourists in My Son and I start back. Eventually is today still a 300 km hell’s ride in front of me. The ride goes at first across bitumenized cart roads – past a vast number of paddy fields and a gorgeous funeral procession before we reach a large river that we cross comparable with Borneo together with a number of further motorbikes in a grotesque way with a wooden ferry boat. Here, far away from the classical routes I arouse immediately the Asian, slightly shy and modest interest of a group of youths.

On the other bank we continue our drive. Meanwhile I have come to terms with the trip in some degree. Across a as much wild as interesting and shaky iron rope suspension bridge we undertake a side trip to one of the many mountain tribe villages in this region. Their openness of mind and hospitality springt einem sofort ins Auge. When I am strolling through the village I am vehemently asked by a family to consort me with them. In broken English and a still worse Vietnamese we chatter at freshly cooked food and self-distilled rice wine. Whilst Henry keeps discreetly to the sidelines and comes casually only short into the picture as translator.

Now, our journey continues further in the mountains. At first landscape is characterized by rice terraces, ananas and banana plantations. Later landscape changes into a dense forest, scenic gush some waterfalls on the roadside. On the pass it is distinctly cooler, after all we are approximately 1.800 m above sea level. The highest peaks are concealed by thick clouds. Now we go downhill again. With continued ride I lose my fear to find myself shortly in the next province hospital or in the newscast as German casualty in Vietnam. Instead I start to enjoy also the ride. After crossing of the pass surrounding changes noticeably: Forests are vanished. Whether it is a result of the use of the defoliant Agent Orange by the US-Army during the second Vietnam War or simply a logging due to economic interests, I couldn’t say. Anyhow appear only bleak hills, interrupted by pampas grass several metres high and rice terraces.

Finally we reach a further mountain tribe village. One of the Bahmer. Characteristical is their rong-house (nha rong). It is a a great thatched-roof house on stilts. To a certain extent it is a kind of church hall that is used for weddings, celebrations and prayers. First I photograph a shy, with her look but also inviting girl who is engaged in processing of reed. At the next moment I make a poignant discovery in the front garden. Chained at a tree, a macaque runs again and again mindless from the left to the right and back. We are once again abruptly concerned with the nature protection topic.

In Dak To we still make a short stop at a war memorial. During the Vietnam War fronts were directly opposing each other here. The region was fiercely fought over, thousands of humans died or fled.

Eventually we reach Kon Tum in the darkness. Its entrance to the town with its streetlights, that every few seconds change agitatedly their colour, emphasizes once more the Vietnamese affinity for trash. Starved we both partake of a poor dinner. In the countryside, table manners are particularly bad: It is gobbled, stripped bones are thrown under the table and the greasy hands wiped on the pants. Exhausted and thankful due to the many collected, unforgettable impressions I collapse after an extensive shower into bed.

Today is the second day of the Easy Rider trip. The day starts with a good omelet for breakfast. Then we set off to the Yok Don – National Park via Buon Ma Thuot. Along the way we stop at first at a little house, where Henry wants to show me diverse tropical crop plants as black pepper bushes, mango trees and coffee bushes.

Now Henry walks straight into the great garden behind the house, the dogs start to bark and the homeowner joins us. But after he starts suddenly a conversation with us and shows us proudly around his garden, it becomes clear to me, that it is only me, who is just now confused a bit. Between Vietnameses and Germans is evidently a fine difference in mentality referring to this.

Once more it goes along coffee, pepper and rubber plantations. In between we stop at a rubber plantation. The rubber trees stand in this lined up like organ pipes. In breast height bark was halfway through scratched and the tough juice trickles in slow-motion in a fixed halved coconut husk. Now I look around in the neighbouring pepper plantation and am almost scared witless, when a several metres high bush is starting to rustle and a subdued giggle is sounding. At the next moment appear then a straw hat and hereupon the face of an older Vietnamese woman, which conveys an exotic seeming mixture of open-mindedness and Asian reticence.

The more we approach us Buon Ma Thuot, the more boring the landscape becomes. Cleared wasteland extends on both sides of the road, the roadsides are akin to a rubbish tip, now and then blaze little bushfires without anyone would being bothered about those.

After all Henry gets lost as well in Buon Ma Thuot, so that we make an approximately 30 km detour. My butt pains already, so that my mood dwindles markedly. Eventually we approach us the national park. Henry drives straight to Ban-Don tourist village and is probably a bit on edge too. There he want to drop me off in full darkness. I express my doubts, whether we are right there and inquire firstly. Of course it is not Yok-Don National Park’s tourist centre. This is located 4 km farther south, where Henry even sets down me then. Already at the last junction I have strong doubts, when a despicable fair stands there. The settlement, in which the tourist centre is located, makes a miserable impression on me. Admittedly they are the typical stilt houses of the Mnong. The huts are converted partly to souvenir shops, partly to restaurants. At first nobody is to be found in the village, who even speaks just one word English. To my luck I meet finally a band of three French: Jules, Richard and Ann. According to their information they are currently th sole tourists in the village.

Now I am conflicted. A lot of people had already advised me against a visit of the Yok Don – National Park. After my first impressions I can only too well understand this scepticism. The landscape is dead, it is about a cleared savanna, which is furthermore totally rubbish-strewn. The hope to see here interesting animals within the next days, is on site quasi evaporated. In addition afflicts me the uncertainty, how I can ever leave this suspicious place.

On the other hand I take to the French. Definitely we would have had a nice time this evening. Some companionship would do me good on my solotrip. As finally a stray dog barks at me, I make in view of my missing anti-rabies inoculation a decision. In the same night I will drive back with Henry to Buon Ma Thuot. My time in Vietnam is certainly invest more profitably in Cat Tien National Park. Perhaps Yok Don National Park might be interesting for an organised day trip – although I doubt even that, provided that the demands exceed riding of a domesticated elephant. For a visitor, who travels under his own steam, this national park is a rather fiasco though. On-site it is deficient in each infrastructure. No maps, no flyers, no English-speaking staff. In addition, after the first impression exists also no realistic chance to catch sight of the potentially existing fauna. Thus I can only advise each independent traveller against a visit.

At full darkness Henry and I drive now back. We drive on a rural road, which putatively consists only of potholes. To crown it all, the Honda headlamp lights the road only very sparsely. In daylight Henry has skilfully evaded each pothole, now we take along at least one out of three. Fortunately I divine a little Grand Canyon just in time and cling to the bike for all one is worth so that I fortunately only just do not fall from the motorbike. One hour later we reach Buon Ma Thuot. Meanwhile – after in total 680 km in two days – my butt feels as if I had become gay. I give Henry the remaining instalment and our ways parts company, even though with some melancholy for my part. With Henry as Easy Rider I was very favoured by fortune. Henry was always in a merry pin, never hacked off by my many questions. He excelled by local knowledge, sensed my interests and surprised me from time to time.

Nevertheless I am frustrated a bit. In the end, this day was still a lead balloon and I realise that sometimes the journey is yet the reward. An Easy Rider tour is just to recommend. I am convinced that the country lets experience such intensely with no other travel option, albeit yesterday’s day was surely the better in terms of quality.

As next destination I have on my list Cat Tien National Park, that is distinct more southerly located. But this morning I have absolutely no idea how I shall reach the park. So, for a start, I have breakfast without ruffle or excitement and then I seek support at Daklak Tourist agency, that Henry has recommended to me last night still with these words: „There they could speak English and German (?) and they would sell to me an OpenTour – ticket, with that I would reach easily Cat Tien National Park.“ But I am sceptical. However, after this tourist agency is also mentioned in the Lonely Planet, I chance my luck. Disenchantment follows immediately. Staff speaks only broken English and recommends me a continuation of my journey with public busses, what was my backup plan in fact. After the experiences in Hanoi I rate the possibilities to find on site the right bus, that passes by Cat Tien National Park, as very low and decide on the reliable option, also if I will probably lose then one day. Initially, I will go up to Da Lat and then there see how it progresses. First I take a cab and hold the taxidriver, who does not speak a word of English, the previously written out address of the bus terminal under his nose. On our way we pass the yesterday’s French. Meanwhile they have also arrived Buon Ma Thuot and are obviously on the way on motor scooters that they have rented in Saigon. Fortunately the circumstances on the bus station are considerably more placid than in Hanoi, so that I can easily buy a ticket to Da Lat for 110.000 Dongs. Unfortunately the bus will start first in 90 minutes, so that I grant me the second coffee for today. This is more than excellent, has a superb chocolaty nuance, so that I would best lay in an annual stock for not even one Euro per 500 g – packet. But unfortunately is in my backpack only space for one packet.

After I have allowed myself two additional coffees we start. At first the way goes along paddy fields and goes up into the mountains. The bus tears along the serpentines, that are lined with extensive coffee plantations, before nice pine forests strechtes just before Da Lat. After five hours we arrive finally in Da Lat and I feel like a milkshake. At bus station arrived I take a xe om, whose driver is also an Easy Rider. He drops off me at a cheap hotel and we agree us on a trip to Cat Tien, that will me cost me after hard price negotiations 1 Mio. Dongs.

Already the pine forests convey the impression to stay somehow not any longer in Vietnam. But even Da Lat is by no means Vietnamese. In the central uplands located Da Lat was founded not before 1912 by French colonial masters as summer residence to can escape from the muggy, warm air of lower regions. The townscape is still today characterized by many French colonial buildings.

A very special building in Da Lat is the as late as 1990 by the Vietnamese designer Dang Viet Nga, a daughter of Vietnam’s second president – Truong Chinh, planned Hang Nga-house, which is better known as the Crazy House.

Of course I also do not miss out on a visit (entrance 35.000 Dongs). What I experience that bowls me almost over. When faced with the quirky composition of secret rooms, caves und towers, connected by entwined aisles and stairs, whose windings and ends are not predictable, and equipped with grotesque furniture and design elements, I am simply dumbfounded. House walls are on the one hand by knobby trees repeatedly disconnected and on the other hand by an all overarching spiderweb connected. Clear forms and geometries are just as quiet colours avoided. Above two hours this crazy mixture attains my unrestricted attention.

Then I amble along the market, gaze the bustling activity and make a stop sometimes here, sometimes there at a little snack stand. Also culinary French founding period cannot be denied.>

But on the way to a restaurant at the centrally located Xuan-Huong-lake I eventually come across yet again some typical Vietnamese: A karaoke bar. Well, Vietnamese have a great love of karaoke, almost each village has not less than one boîte. In larger towns are often some boîtes in only one street. Younger Vietnamese go there just like that or for example to celebrate their birthday there. The love of karaoke seems like the affinity for trash to be a typical stereotype about Asians. Very similar impressions I have already gained in Indonesia. Extremely strange is the taste of music of youth. Everywhere rings out a curious symbiotic mixture from techno and folk music.

The hotel is with 5 € admittedly dirt-cheap, but without breakfast, so that I proceed to the adjacent café, where I wait for Tin Tin. I drink once again a typical Vietnamese coffee. This is mostly such strong that it could raise the dead. Thus it is drunk in Vietnam with concentrated, sweetened condensed milk, which as tough gloop drops slowly from a tin into my raven-black coffee. Tin Tin is the Easy Rider from yesterday. At the first glance I took to him. He is 31 years old and an ex-English teacher, but works now as Easys Rider to see more from his country.

At first we visit a by pine forests surrounded reservoir near Da Lat. Then it goes to a very nice waterfall that is only some kilometres away. Like all in Vietnam also that is fair-touristic developed. National parks like Yok Don are converted to amusement parks and a waterfall in a pine forest is upgraded with a ropeway, which leads up from the valley to the waterfall, and a rollercoaster directly through the surrounding forest.

Initially the ride continues through the lovely pine forest, before it goes past at extensive vegetable – and gladiolus fields. You think you would just visit Europe. We stop for having a cup of coffee. The café has a great view on a further waterfall. Tin Tin and I talk animatedly. He tells me amongst other things about the origin of the Easy Rider. 1992, after Vietnam’s opening towards the West, local people began at first to drive tourists in Da Lat with their motorbike from the bus station to the hotel, later to the local points of interest. Gradually the tours became more and more longer, the Easy Rider were born. They got their name by American tourists referring to an American movie.

On the way I photograph yet a horde water buffaloes, before we take again a break to drink some sugarcane water. We lie laid-back in our hammocks, how it is the custom in a Vietnamese street cafe, and converse again. Unfortunately I am now some scatterbrained for a short time. After approximately 3 km ride I notice, that I have forgotten my backpack, in which is my single-lens reflex camera. Although we drive back immediately, is – as I had feared – my backpack stolen. The guests and the staff make themself conspicuous by a maximal indifference. Only a little girl comments and means that the Vietnamese, who lay beside us in the hammock, is himself scurried off after our departure. Tin Tin chance his luck in the neighbouring village and canvasses there the little electric shops.

However, that is a vain venture, because in all four points of the compass are hundreds, nay thousands small shops. I am demoralised. Not the loss of my camera, which is substitutable, but the loss of all so far taken photos, that are on the SD-card, deeply hurts me. Admittedly the memories will last, but the memory assistances are lost. The photos of the EPRC, of Van Long, of the Delacour’s langur, that we finally discovered after three days search, of my acquaintance and her work, of the cute band of three of red-shanked douc langurs, of the wooden ferry boat and the nice Vietnamese boy, of My Son, devoid of humans, with its colourful butterflies, of the French in Yok Don, the photos of the Crazy House, as well as further hundreds „normal“ holiday pictures. All of this is away – lost.

I am grieved. It is not my first travel in a distant country, always I paid attention. Was even overcautious. And then I was thus scatterbrained. Forget deep in thought my main travel utensil. Well, humans make blunders. Now I was hit. Really deeply hurt.

We sit again in a café, I smoke and think. Do not cry over spilt milk. Thus I buy a compact camera in th next electronics store in order to be able to take some photographs within the next days. Silently we continue our way to Cat Tien National Park.

In front of the National Park runs a river that must be crossed with a boat. In the park I book for me a little, nice bungalow and for tomorrow a tour into the primate centre.

At night I sit due to default of an existing sitting accommodation on the wooden floor of my small porch of the bungalow in the romantic LED-light of my torch. I am in company of a Tiger Beer – can and listen to the polyphonic chirping from the forest. Again and again that is vehemently interrupted by snatches of the weird folk music-techno-mixture, which from the opposite riverbank wafts to me. But I endure bravely that too.

After breakfast I set out for the booked tour in the Dao Tien Endangered Primate Species Centre. This is located on an island and to reach only by a boat. An Englishwoman, who does here her diploma thesis, conducts the very informative tour through the primate centre. In a way circumstances are similar to those in the EPRC in Cuc Phuong National Park, only that this centre has specializing in four locally occurring primate species. During the tour of two hours is imparted lots of background knowledge about Indochina’s primates, those endangerment and protection.

On the way I take repeatedly photos with my yesterday bought compact camera. What a total difference to my single-lens reflex camera with telephoto. I rail against my fate, in fact I wanted to spend still two days in Cat Tien National Park, take a tour to a free-living gibbon group and to the Crocodile Lake, in which it shall give Siamese crocodiles. The further rough itinerary included yet a visit of Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) and afterwards a continuation of the journey either in the Mekong delta, to Cambodia or in the Phu Quoc National Park.

Contagioned by Vietnam’s biodiversity I had anyway decided to visit this country again in some years. Many interesting destinations, as for instance some national parks in Northvietnam, the Halong Bay, the imperial city Hue and a ride with the Vietnamese rail, I could anyway not place time-wise during this journey. After mature deliberation I make for me the decision to add the outstanding destinations to the planned second journey and to cut this one now short.

Wie die Tage zuvor habe ich jedoch keine Ahnung, wie genau ich nach Saigon und von dort zurück nach Deutschland kommen soll, zumal ich keine Reiserücktrittsversicherung oder Umbuchungsklausel abgeschlossen habe. Allerdings ist dieser Zustand nicht neu, die gesamten letzten Tage wusste ich abends im Hotel nicht, wie ich weiterkomme und wo ich morgen übernachten werde. Letztlich hat sich morgens aber immer problemlos eine Option aufgetan und die Reise war, abgesehen von meiner eigenen Schussligkeit, unproblematisch.

However, like the previous days I have no idea, how I shall exactly get to Saigon and from there back to Germany, particularly as I have concluded no travel cancellation insurance or change in booking clause. Indeed, this condition is not new, the last days I did not know in the evening in the hotel, how I will progress und where I will spend the night tomorrow. But in the end has found always easily an option in the morning and the journey was, except for my own scattiness, unproblematic.

I cross the river with a boat. On the another bank I take a xe om – driver, who shall drop me off at the bus station in the next town. But we stop in front of a closed travel agency. I am a little bit upset and argue with the xe om – driver, who suddenly cannot anymore English. Then stops at the opposite side of the street a small, local bus with a little sign „Saigon“, in which I enter to two dozen Vietnamese. Admittedly I am a little bit disoriented: I do not even know the name of the city (in Vietnam exist quasi no traffic signs and never place-name signs), in which I have got in. At least according to the position of the sun we are heading south, after an approximately 100 km drive appears then eventually the first small road sign to Saigon. Blessedly. Leastwise I do not drive into the wrong direction. After a drive lasting many hours we approach finally somewhere in Saigon. Previously the driver swerves now and then to deliver for instance a bagful vegetable. At the bus station awaits me the same trouble once more. Scarcely got off, I am besieged by a mob xe om – drivers. I make clear to them that I would be taken to the next internet café and beat down the price. I take a driver, who answers my questions with „Yes, yes“, nonetheless of the certainty, that this driver has probably absolutely no idea and it will still give ample discussions on the way. Then it happens such: At first he turns me in at the very first café, after my protest we drive to the next café, that has at least WLAN. But without an own computer that avails to little. Then we approach a third café, in which the café owner finally places his private computer at my disposal.

A little later I am sitting in a taxi and am on the way to the airport. In two hours geht der last flight for today to Germany. Admittedly I have no ticket, but also that will go off all right. At the airport I am sent from counter to counter. But eventually I am fed up and proceed directly to the check-in counter of Malaysia Airlines, with which I would fly back one week later. With a charming smile, a some fanciful explanation and after a short argument I can change my booking for some Euros. Ninety minutes later we take off. With intermediate stop on the modern airport of Kuala Lumpur it goes back to Frankfurt.

On the plane I could sleep fairly. My baggage arrives immediately, the ICE to Günzburg is booked quickly. At the moment, I am writing these lines on the train. I guess it is time for a conclusion, that is not easy. In conclusion remain very divergent impressions. On one side I to pick up a smorgasbord of positive experiences from this travel. The circumstance, that it is about an Asian country, was after my interesting Borneo journey very pleasant. The country is scenic diverse. Bedlam cities, great scenic sceneries, interesting animals, so as the gorgeous langurs in Van Long und on the Son Tra – peninsula. A country with a great history. Furthermore I have gained firm insights into biological field work and the certainty, that such a work would be been nothing for me.

Where there is light, there is also shade. Firstly is mentioned the weather in der first week. This was insomuch cold and dismal that no holiday feeling should arise. In addition I had often problems with the Vietnamese peculiarities. Missing manners, the indifference (e.g. of the xe om – driver) and over and over the feeling to be had. And the main point is, needless to say, the loss of my camera together with all the photos.

In future I have to make more provisions concerning this matter .

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