I'm in Love (Part 4)

I don't know what they do to oranges in Dalat, but they are freaking good. I swear, there's vanilla in there somehow. My only regret is that I pigged out on pomelos while I was in Dalat and didn't try my lone orange until after I arrived in Hanoi.

Minor crises

Now, those of you who know me well, know that I have pretty severe grass and tree pollen allergies. Spring and summer are generally toxic seasons for me. So you'd think that I might be trepiditious about visiting a place known as "the city of eternal spring." You might also suppose that, with my vampiric complexion and no regular access to the sun, I would think to slather on some SPF, even on a cloudy day. You, my friend, are giving me much more credit than I deserve, which is why I spent my second day in Dalat wrapped up like an Italian widow in a scarf, cardigan, and long pants, wheezing and popping Benadryl.

Flower Garden

My first day in Dalat, I just wandered around the city, then decided to walk the perimiter of Xuan Huong Lake. I ran into the Dalat Flower Gardens and decided to go in. But as soon as I did, I noticed some ominous clouds off in the distance. So I stuck near all the covered areas. And then I saw a few cracks of lightning and heard thunder. Still, I wasn't going to panic (although I was surrounded by trees and metal poles and other things lightning tends to like) until I felt rain and then I'd just take a taxi back to the hotel or something. I hung around, waiting, for 2 hours. And I never felt one drop of rain.

What I did feel, however, was a passionate need to have a garden and/or grow orchids (as you can probably tell from my pictures).

Xuan Huong Lake

Dalat is known for being a lovely mountain city with fresh air, trees, and all that crap. One of the main attractions in the city is Xuan Huong Lake, which is named after an eighteenth century lady-poet. I spent most of my time in Dalat on the shore of the lake, being totally feminist. Ho Xuan Huong was, in some ways, the Chaucer of her time and culture--she wrote in the venacular language, based her form on folk culture, and was really, really sexually explicit. The book of and about her poetry (oh, don't act like you didn't already guess that I researched this woman the moment I heard about her) points out that since Vietnamese is a tonal language, you can make really dirty stuff seem high-minded, which is what she does. A translation of least dirty poem is below:

Spring-Watching Pavilion

A gentle spring evening arrives
airily, unclouded by worldly dust.

Three times the bell echoes like a wave.
We see heaven upside down in sad puddles.

Love's vast sea cannot be emptied.
And springs of grace flow easily everywhere.

Where is nirvana?
Nirvana is here, nine times out of ten.

Finally, photos!

Click here for the main page for all my albums (I made one for each city). The Hanoi album only has photos from the hotel thus far, but I will update, edit, and create captions soon, I swear.

Technical Difficulties

I'm trying to post more pictures, but the computer in Dalat does not like me using Picasa Basic Uploader. Will get them up when I can.

I'm in Love (Part 3)

I am only in love with food and drink (well, not counting the man in Brooklyn). This time it is Dalat red wine. It tastes strangely familiar--fruity, with a dry finish. I'm not a wine expert, so I won't get too over my head in descriptions, but if I can bring this stuff back with me, I will.