We were packed and ready to go by 9am. The plan was to catch a taxi into Quy Nhon City and get a hotel room for the day, until later that night/early morning the next day when we would get a cab to take us to Dieu Tri station (about 15kms out of town) and rendezvous our 3.20am train journey south to Nha Trang. Arriving early morning, there would be a driver waiting to take us up into the Central Highlands, where the train doesn't venture, and on to the town of Da Lat for a couple of days.
As we were sitting around the Haven breakfast table saying our last goodbyes and reflecting on what a good time we'd had, a phone call from our Vietnamese travel agent in Hanoi came through: 'had we got our train tickets?' Huw took the call and assured them we had, thank you very much, as we had been waiting on tenterhooks for the tickets to appear via the very unreliable Vietnamese mail system. The wait was made worse by the intervention of a public holiday (the very communist inspired 'King's Day') followed by a weekend and compounded by a village address that seemed impossible to clarify to anybody except the locals.
A few minutes later, another call from the same source, but this time wanting to speak to Phil. I took the call thinking this was about the details for the Da Lat connection, only to find out that 'I'm sorry sir, there appears to be an unfortunate misunderstanding'. The unfortunate bit was that we had missed our train - that had left six hours earlier - and our driver was waiting empty handed at Nha Trang station as we spoke. The misunderstanding bit was mine! I had mixed up the early morning date and we had stayed one night too many at Rosie's. Not such a bad thing...except the whole next set of our transfers had just gone pear shaped, including our forward hotel bookings in Da Lat. When our taxi driver for Plan A walked in the door a minute or so later to drive us into Quy Nhon, we realised what a poopy-doop we were in.
Enter Plan B. We all started throwing ideas around about what to do. We could just push everything back a day and re-purchase some sleeper cabin tickets on the night train and ask our driver to front again tomorrow. But Lisa and I quickly edged toward another, more venturesome idea to catch the midday train and stay overnight in Nha Trang. There was no guarantee we could get good tickets, but it suddenly felt like a better idea than hanging around for a day and dealing with the night train saga. It meant we would definitely be in Nha Trang for an early start the next day. So Lisa quickly got us a booking at a hotel, we confirmed train times and options and Huw and Rosie gave instructions to our local driver (with Mi's help) to get us to the station so we could purchase tickets.
Then it was hurried goodbyes - and a few tears amongst our thankyous to all at Haven (we had such a terrific time) - and we were off on the next unscripted part of our adventure. At the station, it was like pulling teeth. The serivece at the ticket counter was slow, unhelpful and labouring. No, there were no sleeper berths available on the midday train. No, there were no soft seats in the same coach - and our luggage was too big to take into that area anyway. So Plan D, variation 2 was starting to look pretty good by this stage. Lisa and I had a little private consult and we decided to go for it. We'd go cattle class on the hard seats. What the hell it was only a 4.5 hour journey, the temp was in the low 30s and humidity around 85% and we only had 6 bags and one child to deal with! Easy decision when all the other alternatives seemed like they sucked too!
So, we killed a couple of hours in the Dieu Tri waiting room and then got on to Rail Coach 5, berths 52' 53 and 54. When I say 'we got on', I mean we embarked in the manner of an alien species poorly adapted to its environment. I just managed to heave our three heavy travel cases (we left Canberra with a measly two) from track level up to head height carriage level without embarrassing whatever is left of the white male ego. We then rolled our way along the central lane-way between the wooden seats of the carriage bumping every person as we went, especially as limbs, sandals and sleeping mats were competing for whatever space in no-mans land they could occupy.
Of course, our seats were at the far end of the carriage and of course, when we got there, they were occupied. And not just by anyone. But by a family consisting of grandma, husband and wife and little baby girl - the latter who was strung in a hammock between the two rows of facing seats, crying her eyes out, as she was swung back and forth. By the time I arrived, Lisa had skillfully negotiated the four nearest seats on the opposite side of the carriage (unilaterally shelving Contingency Plan D6 hatched back in the waiting room - 'what we will do when someone tries to occupy our seats'). Fortunately it was smiles all around and help arrived from all corners to help stash our monumental luggage into the overhead racks. I couldn't even see any other cases on the whole carriage, let alone three to a single family.
So we settled in wide-eyed and tried not to look too noticeable while everybody stared at us. Someone took pity on us and offered us a bunch of bananas. My instinct was to say no thankyou, but I suddenly thought maybe I should take one but then Lisa intervened and gracefully accepted the whole lot pointing out they had plenty more (bunches). Turning around to acknowledge the gift, it looked to me like the only thing they had. So generous.
Pretty soon the train was rattling along and we were starting to feel rather good about proceedings. We had a birds-eye of the passing scenery via a heavy duty iron grille. Nobody was contesting our newly acquired seats. Sweat was pouring off us, but then even the locals were sweating. And everywhere around us, something a bit unusual was going on. At one point I was thinking this is what it might be like to be a chicken being trucked through the country side in a cage with a few hundred other feathery friends, not knowing exactly what your destination is or what might happen along the way. Might as well enjoy the journey! I soon decided that people were far smarter than chickens - we at least know where we are going.
We were well prepared on the food front. As well as bananas, we had choco pies and Marie biscuits, as well as some water. Every time a food hawker came down the carriage we politely said no or ignored them. Eventually, the guy next to us took pity and bought some green mango and chilli salt and gave us some. With a bit of egging on and some hand gestured instruction, we took to eating some. No too bad as it turns out, but an acquired taste. So that was our whole diet for the trip.
Eventually, we started to make the outer reaches of what appeared to be Nha Trang. Our expected arrival time had passed and we were getting a little anxious about the 2-minute window we would have to alight. So as soon as anybody appeared to get ready to disembark we pulled down our cases and made for the exit door of the coach, only this time we bumped into everybody we missed on the first time through. Only problem with our plan was the exit was jammed with Vietnamese soldiers in army fatigues and a swag of what looked like ammunition boxes. We squeezes into tiny spaces in the hallway outside the toilet (W.C.) near the exit point, hanging onto our luggage and looking out hopefully for our denouement - Nha Trang station.
Just as the whole thing was getting horribly messy and confused, and just as the train started to slow down, a guy in uniform yells in respectable English 'the coach 6 door is clear!' Either an excellent decoy or a very good tip. I said to Lisa let's go for it, deciding that the fire in this case was probably no worse than the frying pan. So we skittled our way through another carriage. It turned out to be an excellent tip except that a small flock of people were also on it. As luck would have it, we arrived in the first legion and when the train stopped scrambled out in the first bunch. That felt good!
The next part of our day was pure delight - not that the first bit was bad. On reflection, it had turned out amazingly well. The train trip was quite enjoyable in its own way. Harper was a true soldier and had coped really well, including once again being the constant source of attention from other passengers.
As we exited the station, a Novotel driver was there to meet us - nice to see something worked on our plans. In another 15 minutes we were up on the 12th floor of this thoroughly modern hotel overlooking the South China Sea and beach frontage of Nha Trang. A swim in the pool, buffet dinner and lovely wine later, we had a blissful end to a surprising day with lots of twists and turns.
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