We had high expectations for Dalat, a town tucked up in the central highlands with a cooler climate and a supposed colonial ‘vibe’. It used to be a get-away for the French back in the day, but these days it’s the rich Saigon-ers that come to get-away and, well, we didn’t get much of a ‘vibe’ at all.
However, as soon as we got out into the surrounding hills we begun to understand Dalat’s attraction. We took a motorbike tour with Yang and his mate (let’s call him Bob), who drove us around to see: massive Buddhas, available in gold and green; flower farms; a cricket ‘factory’, which actually farmed crickets rather than manufactured them; waterfalls, because no tour is complete without waterfalls; and a silk farm where we watched ladies boil the little silk worms out of their cocoons and spin out the silk. I don’t know how I thought silk was made, but it certainly wasn’t like that. Still, we ate the silkworms, poor things, oh AND we had coffee made from beans which had been ingested and then later pooped out by a fox/weasel type thing. It was actually pretty good. I thought it was going to be shit…(sorry, couldn’t resist).
As per usual our favourite thing was the motorbike. Even though we weren’t actually driving the things, the sense of freedom is always a winner.