Road from Hoi An to Hué

First grey rain in 3 months now. The land turns green green green. You'd think it was Ireland from the brochures, but for the palm trees and longhorn cows. Green paddies glow, flaring in the dim afternoon light. Sparks of white: scraps of cloth hanging from sticks topped with conical hats, sprinkled in the paddies to chase away Vietnamese crows.

The bus cruises, astride the centre-line; horn is relentless, every few seconds; we dip back into safety if we meet something oncoming, but the driver makes sure to blare his indignance. The trucks rush past, horns dopplering plaintively in return.

Here and there we pass a house, derelict, slate and brown in the green paddy; or a Chinese cemetery on a green slope, graves festive with orange and teal plaster. They peel as years pass, but not as much as one would think.

With >80million people one has to put them all somewhere. Apart from mountain roads, there isn't a stretch of highway that doesn't show some sign of habitation: roadside cafes, a shack, a farm. Kids in blue ponchos, some without; on bicycles on the way home, some without. The constant sprawl of humanity disorients me: I have no idea when we've left the city, nor when we've arrived at the destination.

A slash of red from the tilled earth; a lonely pagoda on the hillside: everything dashes out of the fog at us and retreats. The myopia from the mist doesn't let you see very far.

I fell asleep as we left Hoi An in sun, and woke up to this two hours later. The end of our trip draws nearer: 19 days left.