Wednesday, January 29, 2014

I Love the Smell of Semen in the Morning




















It may seem like this story is about to be sexy. Trust me, it's not.

So... after last we spoke, I took the hour long walk back to my hostel, the stars, beautiful, blah blah

I was fast asleep in what I would soon notice was the boys dorm when some moaning from down under began. Then my bed started to shake and it became incredibly obvious that my once unassuming Danish bunk-mate was in some state of euphoria saved for private moments, and not those shared with 3 other strangers from around the globe.

As the moans intensified and distinctive squishing sounds ensured I panicked. I searched the dark room for some sign that English Joe or Dutch Klass were there in the room with me to, if nothing else, offer some comfort that I was not in this alone.

With no ally in sight I laid low, squeezing my ample thighs together as best I could, as I dare not wake the sleeping, jerking off bear while he thrashes about in ecstasy to relieve myself of liter of liquid long ago consumed.

Each time I thought this nightmare was over, it began all over again. Each time the noises grew louder, the movement more intense, and the goal closer to accomplished - if you catch my drift. This went on for hours.

When dawn broke I did as well, straight for the freedom of outside and the fresh air, void of the undeniable stench of foreign and unwanted spunky air.

Klass had employed ear plugs and Joe thought he was simply having a bad dream - all night long! Neither of the daft blokes were forced to experience the rocking and rolling of the wooden structure on which I was perched, trapped in the dungeon of terror for a fortnight.

With such a traumatic evening and restless night I opted for a plain and simple beach day, making my way up and down Long Beach, stopping every so often to set up camp, read a book I could simply not put down, take a dip and move on. It was a lovely, quiet, solitary day topped off with the authentic Vietnamese evening ritual of pizza and ice cream and another long, poorly lit walk home.

There was some nice conversation, and in turn ribbing from my international roommates into the nighttime hours before we all retired and kept our fingers crossed the Dirty Dane would keep his pants closed.

English Joe had mentioned taking his motorbike to the Southern end of the island and I, in true American style invited myself. Turns out Joe's misses is from Citrus Heights in Sacramento, California - a town over from my Alma Mater (go cougars!) proving further what a small and strange world we live in.

The ride took about 90 minutes down gravely roads, dirt paths, a partially constructed 2 lane highway. The island is on the precipice of gentrification and full blown tourism, as made abundantly clear on our journey with varied and seemingly forgotten stages of development sprinkled throughout the region. Also made clear, people in the small villages, though not unfriendly, are unable or unwilling to assist with directions, even while utilizing a map. This did provide me with the opportunity to meet David Lo Pan from 'Big Trouble in Little China' (look it up) getting a shape at the local barbershop and ended up delivering us to the port before arriving at Bai Sao, touted as the most beautiful beach on the island- possibly in all of Vietnam.

Joe and I had a lovely time soaking up some rays, splashing about in the turquoise surf and dining on some fried rice before the motorbike ride home, equal in good times and scenic views as the way there with the exception of the left side of my body almost erupting in flames from the late afternoon sun straddling a bike.

Having sort of bailed on Carole to hike for the day, I made sure to contact her and head directly to the beach to catch the sunset on my final night on the island. She met me and once the sun touched the horizon we hoped on her bicycle and for the second time I was riding on the back of a two wheel vehicle with someone else at the reigns, though this time it was human powered and far less steady.

A quick meal, some heavy conversation and obligatory tears over vegetable stir-fry and she was headed North as I was heading South. Here we said our goodbyes, both glad to have met one another and both aware that the chances of our crossing paths again are slim to none.

Walk. Stars. Dark. Shower. Scrubs and sunburn, pretty much in that order.

Tomorrow - Hanoi.













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