VIETNAM - Da Lat (see below for cockroach whimper)

Bidding a cheery farewell to Mui Ne and its insect-life, I hopped on a bus to Da Lat; a town up in the mountains, the principle honeymoon destination in Vietnam and rather eccentric.
The drive was a beautiful, steep climb into lush mountains, the green trees set off nicely against the red earth. The air grew cooler and fresher, for which (after the pungent stench of Mui Ne that is famous for its fish sauce - and smells accordingly) I was extremely thankful. We vanished into the clouds and arrived in Da Lat in a torrential rain storm. The bus dropped us at a hotel (of course) and the friendly, chatty hotelier cheerfully showed us rooms, knowing that the rain was in his favour. Once again the rooms were a good size, clean and cheap and I was very excited to discover blankets on the beds and hot water in the taps. So we settled.
I have picked up (or was picked up by, I'm never sure how it works) by a nice Irish girl who is travelling the same route as me, which brings the living cost down significantly.
To make up for it we spent last night in a bar in the basement of a swish hotel. An amazing place, no doubt built for the homesick French. It was low ceilinged and cosy with thick stone walls and wooden beams, playing sentimental, warbling French music. Totally out of place and yet rather fitting in this chilly town up in the mountains.
Today looked promising weather-wise so we decided to hire a motor bike (Cliomadh being designated driver, me ineffective designated navigator). By the guidance of the handy landmark, a mini Eiffel Tower (yes really) we found and wandered around Boa Dai's Summer Palace, a 1930s pile of concrete that seemed to be designed with Function (with a capital 'F') in mind. More entertaining were the Vietnamese tourists who were dressing up in fancy costumes and solomly posing next to plastic elephants and horse-drawn buggies. Kitch (with a capital 'K'). Emboldened by our success, we set off in search of a waterfall. Halfway there, however, the clouds descended and the rain started pelting, so we about turned and opted for drier diversions such as the insane Hang Nga Art Gallery & Guesthouse and the local museum.
Dripping wet, despite our fetching plastic macs, we poked around the crazy Alice in Wonderland-style Hang Nga, up wonky stairs and stooping down higgldy piggldy passageways into bedrooms complete with leering animal models (some with disturbingly illuminated eyes) and mirrors on the ceiling. Rather warming to Obscure Kitch theme, we had lunch in similarly adorned cafe before heading through the relentless rain to the local museum.
The museum is in another old French Villa and contains various artifacts from local ethnic tribes. More entertaining, however, was the proprietor: A friendly Vietnamese woman with Cleopatra hair, a lot of eye make up and drawn-on eye brows. She welcomed us, introduced herself and became our self-appointed guide. After pointing out various pots and jugs she turned to me, surveyed me thoughtfully and said: "Slim, nice form. Like Asian."
"Thank you."
"Not like other English and Americans. Fat. You are beautiful."
I took and immediate liking to her but still winced at the perceived image of the west. We are so big and clumsy compared to their delicacy.
By now it was cold, we were wet and I'd lost the feeling in my fingers so we've returned to our guesthouse to dry off and discuss the various, exciting ways we can make our way to Nang Trang tomorrow...