becca and i had scored a 4 dollar a night dive in Dalat. the hotel itself was totally unremarkable - a boring 5 story box that looked to have been some kind of ward previously. it was cheap. our bus operators dropped us off there without asking us, and, lazy, we carefully bit the hook. the drivers got their commision.
all that i can clearly recall about our room was that it was possessed by some type of mysterious fecal ghost that darted around the space of the room unpredictably, invisibly, angrily. there is no other way to explain why while in bed you would suddenly be overcome with the smell of boiling southeast asian sewage, only to sit up and smell nothing, and to return to the same position and smell nothing, and then be visited again by the horrific smell seconds later while closing the window. in addition, the restroom door had a massive hole in it - the peculiar kind that somehow enhances the various sensations experienced while audience to the passing of bowels. this greatly increased beccas and my intimacy, in a way that i never could have expected.

Dalat - ahhhh Dalat vietnam, in the central highlands, the dalat youve ALWAYS heard about but never had the chance to see. its the one place in the fetid, scorching, malarial strip of jungle and humidity called VIETNAM where all the good little reds at the head of the party get to take their annual 4 days off and stop sweating through their ridiculous looking uniforms in the very mild mere 80 degree heat.

its the dalat you read about as a CHILD - Dalat - in all of its splendor - all of the magnificant things for us tourists to see, the scenic vistas, dalat's famous honeymoooooon lake, the gigantic CONCRETE CHICKEN, the magnificant CRAZY HOUSE

the giant
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