As I make my way down a broad boulevard shaded by leafy cedars on either side, I regret that I’m not wearing a jacket today. Despite the sunshine and blue sky, the air is crisper than I’d anticipated.
I’m kept from turning back to my hotel by the smell of fresh-baked baguettes stacked in a window display ahead. With one of those and a cup of coffee in hand, I’m determined to continue my initial exploration of this town.
I pass estates with shuttered windows, wrought-iron balconies, and latticed gardens… all the makings of alpine chalets. Ahead of me, the spire of a Roman Catholic church juts out above the skyline, and Grand Lac shimmers in the morning light.
At first, the sensation is disorienting, but as I look up at a replica of the Eiffel Tower (about one-fourth the size of the original), it becomes downright bizarre… Am I in small-town Vietnam or some sort of France-themed amusement park? The answer, it turns out, is a bit of both. I’m in Da Lat.
