By Oscar soooo Wild.
Now, going back to Vietnam...
I flew from Haiphong to Danang Airport. Did not even realize how well developed a town Danang was, where the Americans first landed at the start of the Vietnam War. It remained popular with the troops throughout the conflict, only one and a half hours away from Hoi An, and until the last day, when it came to viewing in daylight, I did not even know it existed in such grandeur. During the flight, loaded with the heaviest carry-on luggage, a handbag and the massive roll of paintings bought in Hanoi, the youthful Vietnamese beauty who was our air stewardess was most kind in helping me with my extras. She offered me the one before the last seat and left my carry-on luggage next to her feet, seated on the previous row. When she finally sat behind me after serving the light meal, I turned to her, and we chatted the rest of the flight. After all, everyone has a story.
I recognized my name printed on the A4 paper as I got out of the terminal, and the guide and driver took an hour and a half to get me to the Chic Hotel, which was set amongst a field of rice paddies. There, I found another fan as one of the girls in reception hugged me a couple of times, and for some reason, she was entirely drawn to me! Who am I to question a kind and loving gesture, so I hugged her back. I was told people in Cambodia were warm and sweet, but I had experienced it several times in Vietnam. Hotel hopping in Hoi An became a regular activity in the week spent there as booking so 'last minute', William at Audley Travels had struggled to get me in one place for the seven-night stay. The guide, Mr Ray, seemed a little offbeat and spent most of the hour and a half ride from the airport talking to the driver; he did this in a somewhat mocking manner when he told me: "Oh! What do you think? Everything in town closes at 9:30."
When I asked his opinion on whether the Boutique Hotel was better than the Victoria Hotel, he answered:
"Better? Huh. Victoria is very nice; the boutique is not so good."
He preferred something other than Chic Hotel, which was fascinatingly decorated, with amiable staff and an excellent breakfast. Once I got to the Chic on my first night, I wrote to William back in the UK, at Audley Travels, to have my guide changed. He immediately saw to it, so I had a new man from Hué flown in the next day. Good show!
On the first hour of arrival, around 8:30 pm, I left the luggage, and Mr Ray asked the taxi to give me a lift to town after dropping him off at his restaurant. I walked a little in Hanoi's quiet back streets, wondering where all the tourists were, but soon came across a restaurant I had read about in Lonely Planet called Ms Ly and began with an order of white rose dumplings and wontons with prawn. Walking back in the deserted narrow streets was peaceful and not the least threatening. Or could it be I simply felt no fear?
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| The roof pool at Chic Hotel |
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| My marble bath at Chic |
I had already taken a photo of a few desired styles while in La Ronda, Spain, on my iPhone, so all there was left to do was have it made—a flamenco dress, or two, or three, as it ended up, made in Hoi An, Vietnam.
Et pourquoi pas?!
(And why not?!)
On the first night, just before 10 pm, I walked into the only open shop, a tailor. I showed the design on the phone, which was quoted for $300, including the fabric. But when looking around at the dresses they had already made, that would not happen.
On the second day in Hoi An, a new guide and the driver showed up, and they transported me and my luggage to the Boutique Hotel by the South China Sea.
At the Boutique Hotel, I was shown my spacious, modernly designed room with a slick marble shower room, somewhat unpacked, and proceeded to the beach with Hawaiian Tropic oil in hand. Sunbathing alone leaves no oil on the back, and napping burns the skin. The temperature was a perfect mid-twenties, but the sun shone strongly. Again, the breakfasts were divine, and the next three days were spent on the beach, followed by a swim in the pool as the water was slightly too choppy to go in on my own. After all, I knew no one whatsoever there.
The second night back in town to eat at the Green Mango's recommended restaurant, followed by a visit to another tailor where they quoted $600 for that same flamenco design dress. I decided by then to forget about having any clothes made; it is not as though I need any!
Again, I was one of the last ones walking around the town around 10/10:30 pm, quite a change from the buzzed streets only an hour or two prior. I caught a taxi back to the Boutique Hotel.
On the third day at breakfast, I noticed an older couple (older to me, that is) walk towards the open-air eatery where I sat, with the man gently touching his lady at the back with such affection. They walked closer and took the table in front, and as the lady turned around, she addressed me:
"Oh, hello! We met on the junk at Halong Bay."
I, who must have looked somewhat puzzled while going through the scanning memory chip, tried hard to agree with a nod and a smile. So the lady introduced herself as Diane and her husband, James, from England. It did not take her long to invite me to dinner that evening as their three nights in Hoi An ended the following day, and I gladly agreed. I sure had no other plans that evening or any other.
After another day on the beach and an hour and a half of Vietnamese massage at the hotel spa, I showered, changed, and got ready to meet Diane and James at the hotel lobby by 7 pm. They apologetically asked if I would join them in fitting out their outfits made in town before heading to dinner at the Morning Glory restaurant.
"No apology needed. I love shopping." I answered in joy.
They took me to a colonial light yellow building on the grounds where Yaly Couture Tailors was set, somewhat away from the busy back streets. As we walked up the stairs in a hurry into a large first-floor open-plan shop with a selection of fabrics to make any shopaholic's mouth drop open wide, I was delighted with the find. As the husband and wife disappeared into the fitting rooms and came back with highly well-fitted garments, I spared no moment to approach one of the girls on the shop floor, and in no time, my first flamenco dress was on order. Hole!
A deliciously pleasant dinner invite with their prawn mousse 'kebabs' order, including the dress now on order and the exciting company of a retired couple who worked in the BBC, made that night complete.
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| Mousse Prawn at Morning Glory |
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| Morning Glory Restaurant |
The old trading port of Hoi An is colourful in the day, with the colonial colours of the houses and splashes of different shades coming from every corner on every back street. By night, as in the daytime, the lanterns hung on strings above the alleys, as in the shops lit in every shade of vibrant colour. There is a charm all around: good food, the bustling river Thu Bon, the rich temples, the market filled with porcelain, jewellery stalls, fruit, and fish, all making Hoi An an excellent and different destination.
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| The fishermen's boat |
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| The beach at day in Hoi An |
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| Colourful lanterns for sale |
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| Hoi An, by night |
One afternoon, while walking along the beach and collecting sea shells, I saw a young blonde girl get up and walk with a rack sack towards me, so I started the conversation. Her name was Yolanda from the Netherlands, and she was in her mid-twenties, travelling on her own for three months or so in the Far East, having already been all around China. She was saying how, in most parts of this side of the world, being blond was a novelty, and people would keep touching her hair. From what I recall, she mentioned a city she visited in China where she attended an open day where families brought their daughters above a certain age in their late twenties to find them suitors. Her experiences of backpacking all over China were a delight to listen to. She talked of her family, which occupied a good hour of the walk when I decided to return, and we bid farewell and never saw her again.
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| The boats to ride on river Thu Bon |
On
Saturday, 1st March, my new guide, Hien, awaited at the hotel in the lobby, with the driver from before, to drive us to My Son
(read as Misson), opened to the public in 1999 when Unesco recognized it
as a world heritage site.
My Son ruins are Vietnam's most important Cham site. Their civilization dominated the area that is now Central Vietnam for many centuries before being crushed by the Vietnamese. It was once the intellectual and religious centre, with monuments in a verdant valley surrounded by hills.
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| Ticket sales for My Son |
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| Ruins of My Son |
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| My Son |
An exciting tour overall on a pleasantly hot day; then again, I like the heat.
Hien then had me driven back to town for lunch with a view of the river at Thanh Phoung restaurant, seated on the first floor. Another check out and check back in at Chic Hotel was when I was greeted by the same friendly lady at the reception, and my luggage was taken back to my old room.
I had to ask for a doctor's visit and a prescription for antibiotics later; my guide was back to take me on a short boat ride on the river Thu Bon and a visit to the Camkim Carpentry village on the island, which was only ten minutes away.
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| The main bridge in Hoi An |
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| View from restaurant |
I think I am passing out. Long nights are gone when I stay up until 4 or 5 am. writing my blog. It is now 2 am, and my bed is calling my name badly.
Na Night to Y' All.
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