Vietnam? Yes please!: Rubber Plantations

I am very excited. I have planned a Day Trip. A Grand Day Out some might call it, of meaningful and inspirational proportions. Other than Margueritte Duras, who I have already blogged about, the reason I originally wanted to come to Vietnam was because the film 'Indochine' made it look so gosh darn glamorous. I mean, really, what's more glamorous than Catherine Deneuve in this outfit:

Or this outfit:

Or this outfit where she looks pissed off, but in a controlled, I'm-a-French-colonial kind of way:

There's also the matter of Vincent Perez in a navy uniform, but that is not the point of today's adventure. The point of today's adventure is to pretend I am Catherine Deneuve in this outfit, where she is absolutely rocking the conical hat look and embracing Vietnamese culture and generally being in charge, a bit dirty but still looking like every rubber farmer's fantasy.

Cor blimey Catherine Deneuve circa 1990, you are a fitty.

So, to prepare for this journey, I screen grabbed some maps on trusty Mini Pad and packed essentials like tea in a thermos, petrol in a bottle, water, the new-old iPhone with Google Maps and 3G abilities and sun cream. I was doing very well, speeding on Roger Red Bike to the shiny new highway that cuts through charming rice fields - yes I did get lost a little at this point, but nothing major - until just as I was speeding up to merge onto said shiny highway, a man at the side of the road waved a baton at me, spoke to me in Vietnamese a lot and then translated quite simply: "no moto". Oh. This somewhat scuppered my navigational plans, so I had to revert to the trusty method of repeating the name of the destination with a questioning inflection every time I felt slightly unsure about where I was going.

This method never fails, and got me almost all the way back to where I had started from. I did get to see some water buffalo on the way, though:

Hey buddy, hey... isn't this a bit, y'know, urban up for you?

After three people told me the same directions, I trusted them enough to head towards Cat Lai, which I didn't realise was a ferry station, so this scenic route turned out to be way more exciting than the originally planned journey. The ticket man confirmed that this was indeed the ferry to take to get to Long Thanh, my intended destination. It's funny, because at times like this you really notice the difference between life in Vietnam and life in the UK. In the UK when faced with a ferry to an unknown destination, the following anxious concerns would have crossed my mind:

- I don't know where I'm going - the ticket officer is going to think I'm stupid;

- what if I don't have enough money for this ferry? Is there an ATM that won't charge me?

- I don't know where this ferry is going - what if I can't get back?

- I don't know the ferry timetable - what if I get stuck on the wrong side of the river overnight?

- what 'type' of people take the ferry? Am I the right 'type' of person to take this ferry?

- I didn't anticipate taking the ferry when I left the house - do I have the right equipment for taking ferries?

- I haven't told my parents I'm taking the ferry...

Luckily, in Vietnam, none of these things cross your mind because we live a very 'what the hell' lifestyle and ferries cost 10p and there is the understanding that you are rarely the 'type' to do anything because, well, frankly, you're the only white person on the ferry, or moped, or sitting on the plastic stool, or bargaining a better tourist price, or asking for directions. So, no, you're not the right 'type', but at least you're a novelty.

The ferry came with an amazingly Asian soundtrack blaring from on board speakers, and a baby to play with, so I felt quite happy going with the flow and humming along to the music whilst the baby tried to steal my watch.

Back on the road, I followed along dutifully, passing some fairly standard Vietnamese side-of-the-road built upness, and after about twenty minutes saw my first sign of rubber:

This was a good sign. For a long time after that though, the rubber trees stopped and for a little while, my only chance of survival in an emergency would have been squash and turnips...

And then I passed what I can only guess was the Vietnamese State Space Station... or a nuclear reactor...:

Why else would you build a dome shaped building, other than to house alien life forms?

Eventually, though, I made it to the town of Long Thanh and followed QL51 a little way out of the centre to the first significant rubber plantation I saw. When I had asked Frenchie earlier if he thought I'd get in trouble if I rode down one of the dirt tracks and picnicked in the middle of the plantation, he reassured me with the following response: "it's not like it's gold." How right he is, in so many ways. Rubber plantations, indeed, are not like gold.

Halfway down the little track, I turned Snoop Dogg off because it wasn't really appropriate for the peaceful atmosphere of the plantation, which really was as beautiful as I had imagined it would be. Other than the sound of a man chopping wood, and the very occasional passing bike, there was only the noise of the leaves and the birds. Have some calming and peaceful pictures: