We decided to take the train from Nha Trang to Da Nang as we were tired of buses and flying seemed to defeat the purpose of seeing a country. Below I have included notes that I contemporaneously made on the fly. Please excuse grammatical errors, bad syntax, etc. This is pretty much stream of consciousness as the trip progressed.
Hope you enjoy the ride!We arrived at the station in the pre dawn hours prepared for a scenic ride on the train from Nha Trang to Da Nang en route to the supposedly lovely town of Hoi An on the north-central Vietnamese coast. The station was full of sleepy eyed Vietnamese and a sprinkling of foreign travelers. We sat in anticipation of the imminent arrival of the SE4 express from Saigon. A few minutes before the scheduled arrival of the train we were allowed out onto the platform. It looked like many platforms I have been on in former French colonies. The doors all had louvered shutters in a sort of puce-green color. The walls were a faded dirty yellow. Across the tracks we were facing an old train that Deb thought looked like something you would take to Dachau. It had louvered steel shutters that could likely stop a bullet. As we stood there, the shutters were opened one by one which caused Deb some further misgivings. I confidently assured her that was not our train. A few moments later I heard the welcoming sound of approaching train that reinforced this conviction.
As the train pulled into the station we were mildly disappointed to note that the train looked dirty and tired. This initial impression was reinforced as we boarded a train which had seen much better days. We had booked “soft” seats. The seats were indeed soft. They were broken down and upholstered in a fabric that was once a beautiful red velour but was now a more a burgundy from years of accumulated dirt and grime.
We found our seats, which to our dismay, faced backwards. As we took stock of our situation, the train pulled out of the station right on schedule. We peered out through the dirty windows to see the cityscape of Nha Trang slowly change to the Vietnamese countryside. As daylight filled the early morning sky we had a brief view of the coastline before the tracks took us inland. In the increasing dawn light we saw we were now traveling through a mix of rice paddies, coconut palms and other farm land interspersed with houses and the occasional village. Low mountains enshrouded in clouds formed the backdrop for the pastoral scene. As the sun rose into the clouds our day was made complete when the overhead televisions came on with the sound volume set just below the pain threshold. We were treated to what appeared to be a a cheaply made Vietnamese soap opera with all the production value of a home video. We are compensated with the beautiful scenery but it was not quite the train ride we had envisioned. At least there are now only seven more hours to go.
We passed another beautiful cove with mountainous headlands bracketing the crescent of a fine sandy beach. A crying baby serenades this part of the journey. The seat opposite us was occupied by an older Frenchman who continually struggled with his seat which would not stay in an upright position.
The train continues on occasionally giving us glimpses of a now more rugged coastline interspersed with mountains. Colorful fishing boats ply the coastline in pursuit of the ever diminishing fish stocks to feed this hungry nation of 82 million people.
The cloudy sky has lowered even further over the verdant green of the rice paddies and opened up to provide rain to water the fields and give sustenance to the surrounding rain forest covered mountains. The misty sky adds an ethereal quality to the dim morning light.
Rice paddies with egrets or heronsMany of the paddies are flooded and vibrant with that impossibly bright green that only rice paddies seem to possess. A pajama clad bicyclist in a conical hat pedals along a raised dirt path that separates a pair of fields providing the quintessential Vietnamese scene. Many fields are accented by what appears to be large white egrets or herons. It is easy to mistake the scarecrows in the paddies made of plastic bags on sticks for these beautiful birds.
The train rattles over a steel bridge above a dirty brown river. Small rowboats pass underneath as we cross over. The rail TV is now serenading us with some pop crap which sounds like ABBA, playing over Vietnamese subtitles and televised fireworks, wishing us a Happy New Year. Our air conditioned car is alternately freezing and then hot and stuffy. Apparently the baby is unhappy with the music as well because he is now howling. Over the howling we hear the raised voice of the father who beats the child in either frustration or anger but gives up as it only makes the child howl louder. The child finally quiets down perhaps mollified by visions of his own mortality as we pass a cemetery that is miles long. Many of the graves are along the rice paddies as if to allow the ancestors to participate in the rice cycle of life and perhaps watch over their descendants.
We pass a cow covered soccer field just before passing through another of the countless characterless Vietnamese villages. I say characterless because the charming villages of teak and thatch houses everyone imagines now exist only in movies having given way to concrete boxes so typical in the developing world. On the other side of the village a small stream winds through the paddies and leads the eye to the mountains beyond. We leave the rice fields for awhile and pass through a narrow river valley with low mountains on either side. As the train travels along the river we spy numerous small boats and water fowl and then more villages.
The countryside is really quite pretty outside the villages. There is every shade of green ranging from the bright green of the rice paddies to the deep green of the jungle covered mountains. There is evidence of reforestation on the mountains that were denuded during the war thanks to napalm and agent orange. The forests have suffered continued assault by the Vietnamese in their endless quest for fuel and lumber to fill the needs of their exploding population. Only four hours to go.
After five hours on the train the landscape shows subtle changes. It appears wetter and cooler than the south which is a result of the monsoonal pattern. Vietnam is interesting from a climate standpoint because when the south is dry the north is wet and vice versa as there are two monsoon patterns that affect the country. A north eastern monsoon in wets the north in winter and a south eastern monsoon wets the south in summer.
Deb enjoys the ride
The character of the villages has changed as well. The houses are constructed of plastered brick with red tile clad pitched roofs and bright colors of yellow, blue, pink and green on the walls. There are some decorative details reminiscent of colonial French architecture.
Note the clarity of the window
The coastal plain has broadened with large expanses of rice paddies stretching for miles at a time. The sky is gray and overcast which is probably the norm for this time of year. This is fortunate for us as the a/c on the train continues to fluctuate between sub arctic and tropical air flow. With cloudy skies we maintain a level of comfort that we would not enjoy if the day was clear and sunny.
As we parallel the road a happy motorcyclist briefly races the train but we leave soon leave him behind. We are passing a series of broad rivers that show the different colors of the tidal flow where they meet the sea. It is obvious that these rivers flood as evidenced by exposed large sandy beaches. The blaring of the TV has been replaced by the sound of a rooster crowing. At first I think it is someone’s clever cell phone ring tone because it sounds almost electronic. However, as the rooster continues to crow it is apparent that there is indeed a live rooster contained in someone’s bag. The nonplussed attitude of the conductor leads me to believe that this is not an abnormal occurrence. It is starting to rain again. Hopefully it will wash the accumulated crud off the windows so I can see the scenery better.
Only three hours to go.
The conductor comes by to give the floor a desultory sweep and admonishes Deb to lift her feet even though she is obviously asleep. Trolley carts have passed by several times with pans full of very tired looking pork, chicken, spring rolls and cooked sparrows. The Vietnamese attack these dishes with the same gusto westerners attack airplane food. I call this type of food fuel because it really does not rise to a sufficient level for me to call it food. We are sticking to our crackers and peanut butter to supplement the muesli we had for breakfast.
Vietnamese crop fields are a model of order. Rice fields are laser level. Other row crops are in ruler straight rows with furrows in between of precise depth. The fields are free of any trash or debris. It is a shame that they can't bring these qualities to the rest of the country.
The train just passed over another broad river bordered by paddies literally carved out of the wide low river bank. A small row boat floats in the midst of a flooded paddy. It contains a huge pile of mud which threatens to capsize it. Yet the occupant continues to dredge mud from the bottom of the paddy increasing the cargo of the alreday overloaded boat. Occasionally we see individuals working in the fields as the train passes by but it is difficult to tell exactly what they are doing through the dirty train window at our rate of speed.
The temperature in the car has dropped to a new low. As Vietnamese scramble for jackets and sweaters I luxuriate in the chill air. It has already been too long in this hot humid climate for my taste. The chill air reminds me of an email from Chris that there is 4' of snow at home. I am missing the skiing but my aging bones do like the humid warmth here. I understand the reason why everyone likes to retire to Florida, but the high humidity would prevent me from ever wishing to live there. Give me the dry heat of the California and Baja desert anytime.
Water buffalo with their huge racks of horns and sleek rain soaked hides appear for the first time on this ride. The rooster is crowing again, seeming to herald this new arrival on the landscape. The buffalo graze on the rice stubble, knee deep in water and in the mud of other fallow fields. Their waste fertilizes the fields and paddies as they graze, fulfilling a part of their symbiotic relationship between man and beast.
After a brief period of almost sun beating through the dingy windows of the train, which causes don hat and sunglasses as protection against the intense tropical sun, we again go on through darkened cloudy skies now anticipating our arrival in Da Nang.
There is a rooster hidden in this pictureThe train whistle trades riffs with the crowing rooster. The rhythm of the carriage on the rails seems to chant a mantra---one more hour to go---one more hour to go. The sky continues to darken as we pass yet another cemetary. As the clouds release their wet burden we are faced with the prospect of detraining in the rain in Da Nang. As we near the end of our day on the train, Deb and I agree that, warts and all, this ranks as one of the highlights of our visit to Vietnam. The scenery has more than compensated for the early start, dirty train and discomfort from the lack of climate control in the the car.
Outside the window the air is getting mistier and mistier. Light streaks of water on the window glass indicate 100% humidity. If it is not raining when we get off the train it might as well be. We will be soaked in a matter of minutes regardless.
We pass a group of field workers. Their conical hats and diaphonous plastic rain ponchos give them the appearance of giant mushrooms floating through the field. The rice paddies now dominate the landscape; some stretching off into the infinitity of air so thick that it could be cut with a knife. The air is so still that a flock of cranes standing in a flooded paddy exist in a perfect reflection of themselves as water buffalo graze between them with flicking tails.
The conductor announces are arrival in Da Nang.
Kwan Yin's "guardians"
Kwan Yin's "guardians"
Wandering around the back of the structure we entered another sizeable room in the cavern. We were greeted by another Buddha about thirty feet in height. It was difficult to tell if he had been carved out of the solid rock or if he had been placed there. In either case it was a monumental sculpture. 
Inside there was an altar dedicated to Buddha. A wizened crone seated next to the altar smiled at me and seemed to be directing me around behind the altar with cryptic gestures. Puzzled, I went to the side of the altar to find a narrow staircase ascending the interior of the pagoda. I went back outside to grab Deb and we climbed the stairs which were lined with several plaques depicting the life of Buddha. We reached the first floor which corresponded to the first tier of the pagoda. We found an altar with numerous icons about 2 feet high. On the next level we found a large golden altar to Brahma.
We continued our climb to the top finding different altars on each level. At the top we could look out to be treated to a fine view of the coastline, karsts, and town below.
Pagoda roof detail
Pagoda roof detail
