I like it, Da Lat

Fresh air with a scent of pine trees! Puffy white clouds against a stark blue sky! A cool breeze raising goose flesh on bare arms! I'm in Da Lat—Viet Nam's answer to…what?…Lake Tahoe?…Jackson Hole, maybe…although there are no casinos, no power boats, and no ski lifts. Da Lat has been compared to Niagara Falls—it's a popular destination for Vietnamese honeymooners and there are several waterfalls nearby. For me it's a mecca of blessed relief from the heat and humidity of Hanoi. I've come to enjoy a few days of R & R before I get down to work.

I've was curious about Da Lat even before I arrived in Hanoi. The last emperor of Vietnam Bao Dai had his summer palace here. The surrounding region is known for lakes, waterfalls, and wine production. It enjoys milder temperatures, lower humidity, cleaner air, lower living costs, and far less crowding than Hanoi. It's been a university town since 1957. Hanoi has its charms but I can't help wondering if Da Lat might not be a better fit for the likes of me, ergo this visit is secondarily a scouting expedition.

Da Lat's xe om drivers naturally assume a Westerner can only be here to see the tourist sights, but I've been a disappointment to them. I've been content so far to explore Da Lat on foot, revelling in the fresh air and marvelling at how Western the place feels. There's a contour to the town that's in stark contrast to the rice paddy flatness of Hanoi. To encourage the illusion of being in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, I ordered a humburger yesterday—my first humburger in Vietnam. I have to say it spoiled the illusion a bit. The burger looked authentic, but in place of a beef patty I found some kind of jasmine-scented mystery-meat paté. The fries weren't bad, though.

When I arrived Tuesday morning after a two-hour flight from Hanoi I checked into the first hotel I found, the Tan Anh. The room I got for $12 a night was spacious, with two double beds and a fine view from the balcony. What I mainly wanted, though, was a secure place to store my bags while I scouted around for a charming bargain hotel. (Security at the Tan Anh turned out to be marginal. Twice I came back to find the front desk deserted and had to help myself to my room key.)

After a nap, I picked up a tourist map and started making the rounds of hotels in Da Lat's city center. There was quite a choice of luxury accommodations in the $60-$260 range and an even wider range of budget hotels. Most of them appeared totally guestless, prime tourist season having come and gone already, so I was in a good position no doubt to bargain, but when I was offered a price of $10 a night for the best room at the charming Thang Loi Hotel I didn't haggle. After exploring a bit more and grabbing a bite to eat, I went back to the Tan Anh to shower and relax.

While checking my email I heard a haunting female voice singing somewhere outside my window. When I went to explore I discovered the music was blasting from the top floor of a nearby luxury hotel. I took the elevator up to what turned out to be a tiki lounge cum karaoke bar, but by the time I got there, the female vocalist had been replaced by a young man in a tight limegreen shirt and white sansabelt slacks singing My Way. His way turned out to be a long way from the key the band was playing in.

After sansabelt sat down, the band turned out to be way more interesting doing instrumentals. The band comprised Yamaha synth, tambourine, drummer playing a cymbal and two hand-carved wooden drums with very heavy sticks, a woman wearing a brocaded white sweater and a white harvest moon headdress playing something similar to a Japanese koto, and the lead man who played some crazy solos on an instrument I've never seen before. It appeared to consist of one string strung on a horizontal sounding board. Standing vertically at one end of the sounding board was what looked like a long black quill which served both as a tremolo arm and as a pitch selector. The dude playing it looked like Fu Manchu in a dark blue robe with big silver polka dots and a matching hat shaped like a deep-dish pizza (about a 9-inch pie). The music had a pronounced Oriental flavor but at one point I thought I recognized the melody of an old Eagles tune. The sensation was not unlike eating a jasmine-scented humburger with fries.

I hung around until sansabelt came back onstage, then returned to the Tan Anh and grabbed my room key from the pile sitting on the deserted reception desk. The next morning I moved into the Thang Loi.

The Thang Loi is not one of your ten-foot wide hotels. It's a big, rambling old hotel with a boarding house feel. I'm the only guest on the second floor and very possibly the only guest in the hotel. After settling in I headed to the other side of the lake to pay a visit to the Da Lat Foreign Language School. This turned out to be a complete and utter delight. Ben Lavarack, the human resources manager, wasn't around but I got a tour of the school from the administrative manager, a charming young woman named Thuy. The school is cozy, comfortable, intimate, and meticulously ordered. It feels like something between a Montessori school and a houseboat. I loved it and am already giving serious thought to applying for a job there sometime in the future. There are some good reasons to serve a tour in Hanoi first, though. I'll keep you posted on developments.

On my way back to the Thang Loi I stopped to watch some little remote controlled boats zipping around Xuan Huong Lake. While I was snapping pictures two young women spotted me, crossed the road, stood near me for a minute or two, then hazarded a conversational opening. Chi and Thanh are third year students at Da Lat University. They wanted to practice their English and we had a long, enjoyable chat. I've had similar encounters with waiters, xe om drivers, street vendors, and hotel clerks. You get the feeling social isolation in Vietnam can only be by personal choice.