Note that I have included Louise’s birthday bash here, but as it was a Mui Ne thing, all that I am allowed to mention really was the state I was in on that morning. Anyway, rewind several hours and we begin the evening at La Habana.
Having said farewell to Sarah on the day that Jacko died a couple of weeks previous, Henno’s last Friday night was celebrated with the usual aplomb and ceremony. I thought I was in control. I thought I was fine after an initial “wobbly stage”. However, despite my clarity of mind, I was still… unbalanced, and the Tequila which I consumed (breaking a 7 year abstinence period from the evil shit) and talk of me looking like a Moto GP racer encouraged me to take the ‘chicane’ at the Opera House at such speed that I would have been setting a new personal best from Hai Ba Trung to Dong Khoi.
Predictably (and luckily the only time I came off my bike in SaiGon in approaching 3 years) this left me and Kafka with a few scrapes. Kafka doesn’t bleed if his surface is scratched, but I did. I still can’t put together exactly how I came off, but it must have been a sight for the Vietnamese who like to picnic at the side of the opera house at 2 in the morning. A lack of pain and a lot of shame meant I went straight home to clean myself up as best I could, my open wounds on my feet and hands ate up the iodine solution, and I collapsed in bed with my alarm set for 3 hours later.
At least I made it for the train to Mui Ne in the morning, no small thanks to Alex, who got an eyeful when he had to rouse me from my sleep. 3 of the 4 ticketholders boarded the train, with me immensely looking forward to greeting the mosquitoes who could probably already smell me boarding that train.
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