Why did the chicken cross the road?
I never really knew where this age-old saying came from—until I bought a motorbike and drove through rural Vietnam.
Picture this: you're riding through mountainous landscapes, past beautiful terraced rice fields and lush jungle. You weave up and down hills while dodging wildlife at every turn.
First, the cows. They're the easiest to avoid—slow and usually hanging out on the side of the road, minding their business.
Second, the dogs. These dogs are unbothered. They lie in the middle of the road and don't flinch when a bike approaches. They're like big, hairy rocks. I think they're just so malnourished that they lie there, tired and unmoving.
Finally, the most lethal: the chickens.
Chickens are skittish and travel in groups, usually one mama and a bunch of chicks. For some reason, they always run across the road—always! Just as you're riding by, they sprint directly in front of your bike. It's wild. Super dangerous for them, and for me. I'll be cruising along and suddenly—six chickens dart across the road. Sometimes they even take flight if it's too close.
The worst thing would be to annihilate a chicken and crash. I've had a few close calls, all involving chickens.
There are also water buffalo, goats, and horses out here, but they're no threat—they usually stay off in the grass, far from the road.
Today I drove three hours to the very mountainous region of Tà Xùa. Last night I stayed at a nice homestay where I was the only guest. This morning, I even had to board a boat to cross a river—pretty cool.
Tà Xùa is famous for cloud hunting, or săn mây in Vietnamese. It sounds strange, but it's actually a big thing here. Since it's a Vietnamese holiday this weekend, a lot of young locals have flocked to Tà Xùa. Vietnamese youth love going phượt, which means backpacking or motorbiking to wild places. It's really cool to see domestic tourism like that.
This region is also home to many Hmong people—an ethnic minority originally from the mountainous areas of China. They're recognizable by their elaborate, colorful embroidered scarves.
Just before dark, I managed to catch a glimpse of the famed sea of clouds. It was nice, but not mind-blowing. The roads, though? Absolutely brutal. Imagine riding at a 55-degree incline over rocks and sludge, inside clouds and mist. Not for the weak.
It's crazy being out here all alone. One of my friends asked if I feel lonely. I don't. I don't even feel out of place. I feel like I was born to do this.
Tomorrow is my birthday—I'll be turning 25. I'm very grateful for this adventure and this beautiful life. Maybe I'll splurge on a nice private room to celebrate. I'm not a big birthday person, but it's always interesting to see who reaches out.
Tomorrow? I drive—and drive some more.
