Motorcycles 081212
We finally landed.
It was an OK flight. Nothing memorable but nothing horrible either. The view from the top was interesting. The houses were really cute and colorful. The airport was gorgeous. Small but chic and clean.
The immigration guy was pretty silent, so no hassle for me. I had to run around the airport because my dad wanted me to meet a friend of his who works there. He was busy, so I bolted.
The cab driver was such a weirdo. He could not understand a word I was saying. Lucky enough, I wrote down the address of my hostel.
We finally landed.
It was an OK flight. Nothing memorable but nothing horrible either. The view from the top was interesting. The houses were really cute and colorful. The airport was gorgeous. Small but chic and clean.
The immigration guy was pretty silent, so no hassle for me. I had to run around the airport because my dad wanted me to meet a friend of his who works there. He was busy, so I bolted.
The cab driver was such a weirdo. He could not understand a word I was saying. Lucky enough, I wrote down the address of my hostel.
When we left the airport, there was only one thing I can see, fucking motorcycles! Dude, there are more motorcycles here than there are cars, fucking awesome!
The hostel I had booked was full for tonight (I had booked for Saturday and Sunday), but the concierge took me to another hostel to stay in for the night.
So I got settled in and went down to book and pay for my river cruise.
Bui Vien is cool, definitely a backpacker's area. There are a lot of backpackers wandering around.
But you know what was more wandering around than backpackers?
Fucking motorcycles!
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