Don't Tell My Mom

Please don't tell my mom; it's not the type of thing she's want to hear. My dad maybe could handle it, but mother's don't like to know these things. Yes, I did it because it seemed fun, and No I didn't get hurt, so there shouldn't be any problem. No harm, no foul, right? Still, don't tell my mom that we skipped out on our bus ticket from Hue to Hoi An and hired motorbikes to drive us 100 miles down the coast.

Our drivers, Nho and Ty (Easyrider), were just supposed to drive us around the old tombs and city of Hue during our 5 hour bus layover. We were just supposed to get back on the bus and ride to Hoi An that afternoon, but the more we rode, the more fun we had, the more they talked up riding down on the bikes and after a while it seemed like a darn fun idea. So we did.

Of course riding a motorbike through the windey highways of Vietnam, past the rice paddies and mountinous jungle isn't the safest way to travel, but there just isn't a better way to see the country. They took us to a mountain waterfall with a swiming hole below to relax at. They took us over the seaside mountain pass outfitted with a US bunker from the war, as the green hills which looked on raced to the blue Pacific below. They took us along the miles and miles of beach, past the resorts, restaurants and men lounging on plastic chairs. They took us off the tour bus and into the real Vietnam, bringing us local snacks (gelatinous rice steamed in bannana leaf with shrimp) and local restaurants. It you ever come to Vietnam, please hire a motorbike.

But please, don't tell my mom. These kinds of things tend to worry mothers, so please don't tell mine.