Story written 11 July 2008
Riding the Ho Chi Minh Highway on 2 wheels is an excellent way to get off the tourist trail... and the bus. Two bikes, three riders, 800 km, and four days: we made our way from Hoi An to Nha Trang through the scenic Central Highlands.
In addition to Vietnam's scarlet flag with a single gold star, illustrative billboards line the roadways, presumably to remind people of the greatness of Vietnam.
Shown here: a diverse group of occupations: farming, industry, military, science–I thought it strange that the hilltribe woman was simply 'being' a hilltribe woman and not 'doing' anything like the others. In a way, it represents the position of the ethnic minority groups in Vietnam.
Hilltribe children at this orphanage were left parentless from disease, farming accidents, and, I presume, clashes with the government during ethnic uprisings obliquely described as ‘hill-tribe wars’.
There are over 300 orphans at the two Vinh Son homes, with a representation of 10 ethnic minority groups, and ages ranging from newborn to 20-years-old.
Along the Ho Chi Minh Highway, memorials dedicated to the events and people that helped to liberate Vietnam keep the memory of war alive.
The Ho Chi Minh Highway is lined with reminders of the American War, as its known in Vietnam.
Rong Houses are the traditional communal structures of the Bahar minority group in Vietnam's Central Highlands, where important events, such as weddings and festivals, are held.
Rubber tree forests, along with coffee plantations and miles of rice paddy, cornfields, and black pepper farms line the highway through the Truong Son mountains in Vietnam's Central Highlands.
This woman is of the Sedang ethnic minority in the Central Highlands, Vietnam.
Above us, the heavens were a battlefield of lucent white skies and lead-colored rain clouds, sparking lush green hills and bathing others in shadow. I could feel the wind and hear the place: the roar of a waterfall, the electric chirrup of insects, the caws of birds. Off in the distance, a fine mist smudged the jungle’s timberline and the mountains beyond, consuming the road we traveled, as we wound our way into the heart of the Central Highlands.
Cheryn Flanagan has been a member since 10 November 2007 and goes by cherynf.
Currently in jetlag purgatory.
Subscriber since November 2007!
I'm a vagabond on hold in San Francisco–designer by day, travel writer by night, and photographer whenever I get the chance.
You can also find Cheryn at www.destinationtbd.com.