The Magic Curtain

Today it was deeper into the Delta, far south of the "Tourist Trail."

First leg, a local bus across Ben Tre province. A very helpful local travel woman had written down the magic phrase "ferry boat to Tra Vinh" which, when the bus arrived, proved effective.

Scooped off the street, we rattled through town and out of it. I soon learned via observation that Ben Tre sits on a small arm of one of the mouths of the Mekong. When we crossed the actual Mekong, well, it was obvious. The bridges are changing the Delta in the north, and change is moving South.

We clattered and bounced to the end of the line. One local bus: 16,000 dong, or seventy cents US.

The road curved right and no ferry in sight. A local scooter guy (they are always there) offered me a ride for 10,000 dong. We dickered and were off. For 500 meters. The ferry was around the turn. In his defense, he did schlep me right to the boat. Scooter: 10,000 dong because I was laughing so hard I forgot we settled on eight. Fifty cents and huge laughs on both sides.

The Mekong is huge, and this is just one of six major mouths in the Delta. The ferry is slow and wonderful. And, for walk-ons, it's free.

Once across, things got more interesting. 28 kilometers to Tra Vinh. Bus? No, no bus. Of course there is a bus somewhere, but it's hot and nobody's saying because that would be spilling the local scooter guy's bean pot.

Ah, My Main Man the scooter guy. Of course, Tra Vinh. Sure. 100,000 dong (five bucks). I do my best and offer 80 thou. With a stage presence worthy of John Arnold, he swings his hand wide, grins like a barn door, and then slaps me on the shoulder as he emotes "NO" in the friendliest way. All of the onlookers laugh, I laugh, he smiles and the deal stands at 100 thou. I mean, the brother knows he's got me.

I mount up and were off across the country side on a 125 scooter. And then? Then the Magic Curtain parts and I am there, in that place, the traveler's Nirvana. We are flying down tiny lanes through hamlets, over canals, many canals, dodging potholes on a lane too small for cars. This is it, this is the real deal, no tour buses, no cars, not even. Tri-shaw. We are floating over a landscape so breathtaking and beautiful. No one here is catering to me. There is now tourist trade. There is no reason for me to be here. I am through the curtain that separated tourist from traveller. I am a traveler once more, that greatest of blessings.

And then, when it could not get better, the lane ends and we are riding on the packed earth dikes of rice paddies. My stupid little over-small helmet is perched on my head, the scooter suspension is bottoming out and we are only going fast enough to be seriously maimed but probably not killed. It is glorious and I am grinning like a baboon.

Then we are done. Tra Vinh, which is said to be one of the prettiest towns in the entire Delta. And so it proves to be.

I am so very, very lucky.