To quote Bill and Ted, I just had a most excellent adventure.
Adventure comes in many forms, from a good hike to parenting to just trying something you wouldn't normally do in your daily life. A few days ago I did something I never would have dreamed of doing, purely for logical and safety reasons. It's amazing what you'll do when you have nothing else planned, so I said yes and hopped on the back of a giant dirt bike for a three day journey through the mountains of northwestern Viet Nam with Haydin from New Zealand, Andrew from Canada and Mel from England.
There are a few reasons why this is so wild and crazy for me, the first being that my mom is going to kill me because I have been conditioned my entire life to know that motorcycles are dangerous. Others might be that I know absolutely nothing about bikes or riding them, I am a nervous wreck just watching other people ride motorbikes, and I am ridiculously not hard-core. And still I said yes. The only preparation I could contribute to the trip was to switch from my Buddha necklace to my St. Christopher necklace, which seemed important at the time. I also became the Navigator, because I'm pretty good with maps and talking to people who don't speak English, which made me feel special. Other than that I was completely lost, and on sharing this with fact with Mel I realized that at least I was not alone. So together we put on our "Brave Face", tried to figure out how to put a helmet on, and jumped on the back of a roaring bicycle from hell.
Day One: Ache.
Getting out of Hanoi (a city of four million) in morning traffic was enough to put me over the edge, but I was committed so I tried not to scream too much. Instead I just held on to Andrew so tight that he was having breathing problems. Out of the city however, we had a good day of zipping around mountains, water buffaloes and giant trucks, getting about three hundred kilometers between us and chaotic Hanoi with only minor brushes with death. I don't know if any of you have gone three hundred kms. on a dirt bike, but they are ridiculously uncomfortable. You can't move at all, so when your butt goes numb with pain you have to deal with it or stop to allow circulation to flow once more. At one of the rest breaks I decided that our bike was named Clyde, after my grandfather, because he is strong, smart, and I had the sneaking suspicion he wanted me to go back to University.
Day Two: Pain.
I fell off the bike. Three times. We started off well and I was pumped, purely from the elation of still being alive. But then the child on the bike swerved the wrong way and Andrew decided to hit the mountain and spare the little bastard. My right leg ended up a little smashed up, but other than that we were ok. Actually I'm completely lying. I was really shaken and lost all my confidence for the whole day, making me a nervous wreck and an annoyance to everyone else. After the other two minor slides I was so depleted of all energy that I almost didn't make it. Andrew, Haydin and Mel were all very supportive, but I learned that I'm not much of a motorcycle rider, seeing as how I don't like peeling around blind corners on Vietnamese "highways" and am not much of a thrill-seeker.
Day Three: Excellent!
Haydin talked me back onto the bike for the last leg of the journey, and for that I am very thankful. He said that it's easier to just let go and enjoy the flow of the ride, rather than try to control things that are beyond control to begin with, and he was right. So I woke up early, meditated, practiced my yoga, and charged my iPod. During meditation my Muay Thai trainer Ay appeared and said, "No crying!" which is something he used to say to keep me going when I was down and exhausted. My head clear and my confidence returned, I stopped crying, figuratively, and got back on. With 'Rage Against the Machine' flooding my ears, the wind on my face and my friends beside me I felt alive once more.
The ride was amazing. If you have never seen the rice paddies in northern Viet Nam, then my words can do them no justice. I can only say that they are emerald stairs towards the heavens, shining as the water catches the sun's rays, as far as the eye can see. Little figures in pointy straw hats weave amongst them, and the countless views of peace and perfection are forever seared into my memory. Viet Nam, with all of it's symmetrical yet curvy green rice fields, reminds me of an M.C. Escher painting.
When we reached Sa Pa, our final destination, Mel and I hugged each other in peals of joy and laughter for having survived. Andrew and Haydin just laughed at us for being so ridiculous. I wouldn't have made it without Mel there, and we have jointly decided that we are now "Hard Core", which is pretty cool...
Being self-proclaimed Hard Core always is.
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