Set in a long, thin valley, surrounded by jagged green peaks, at about 600 meters above sea level the village of Mai-Chou is sort of an oasis after the craziness of Hanoi. The main strip through town isn't much to look at, but just a quarter mile beyond the last building, the smaller sub-village of Pom Coong is literally an island surrounded by rice-paddies. As I approached in the early afternoon, I prepared myself for what I assumed would be a tourist trap. The travelers bible (Lonely Planet, or LP for short) had listed Pom Coong and a neighboring sub-village as area highlights. But as I pulled into the narrow walkways between the village's traditional stilt-houses, I didn't see another foreigner anywhere. I puttered around for a few laps before a young woman waved me over to her home and communicated via hand gestures and a couple of english words that she had a place for me to spend the night. In Pom Coong, the villagers have opened up thier homes to visitors - for a completely reasonable fee. For $12 I had a traditional roof over my head, the best dinner I've had in months, and a small breakfast (b-fasts just aren't big over here). The family, consisting of a younger couple and their three-year old boy, and I all slept in the main room of the home on bamboo floors and under a tin roof.
And what a night it was - as promised the rains arrived with a vengeance. At dark, thunder started booming and lighting flashed. It literally rained, unabated, for over 24 hours. Lightning would flash here and there and here and there. There were were stretches of solid minutes where the sky was completely lit up outside. The remnants of Typhoon Hagapit were doing a number on most of Vietnam that evening, as I would later find out.
After waking to the rain gutters overflowing and the concrete walk ways between homes flooding - and with more than a little prompting from my hosts - I decided that it would be best to wait out the storm in Mai-Chau and postpone my departure for a day rather than face the mountain roads with my scooter..I mean, motorbike. So, I checked back into the stilt house and spent a damp (but warm) day alternately reading and taking rainy-day walks through the rice paddies. I managed to find a run down internet cafe in the newer part of town and shared it with a dozen school-aged boys playing on-line video games. Back to walking and reading, reading and walking. By the time evening rolled around the rain was slacking off a bit and I had high hopes for the following day. What a sucker....
And what a night it was - as promised the rains arrived with a vengeance. At dark, thunder started booming and lighting flashed. It literally rained, unabated, for over 24 hours. Lightning would flash here and there and here and there. There were were stretches of solid minutes where the sky was completely lit up outside. The remnants of Typhoon Hagapit were doing a number on most of Vietnam that evening, as I would later find out.
After waking to the rain gutters overflowing and the concrete walk ways between homes flooding - and with more than a little prompting from my hosts - I decided that it would be best to wait out the storm in Mai-Chau and postpone my departure for a day rather than face the mountain roads with my scooter..I mean, motorbike. So, I checked back into the stilt house and spent a damp (but warm) day alternately reading and taking rainy-day walks through the rice paddies. I managed to find a run down internet cafe in the newer part of town and shared it with a dozen school-aged boys playing on-line video games. Back to walking and reading, reading and walking. By the time evening rolled around the rain was slacking off a bit and I had high hopes for the following day. What a sucker....
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