Hoi-An

Of course, I missed my bus…woke up with the alarm at 6am and promptly decided to lie back down for another 5 minutes before attempting to cope with what was promising to be a monumental hangover. 5 minutes became an hour and, unfortunately, the night porter had failed to tell the day shift that I had changed rooms the previous night. When they came knocking on my door to take me to the bus, the room was empty and they left empty-handed. The good news (for me at least) was that my Aussie chums had been left stranded too. For some reason the tour company had them down to be picked up from a different hotel…when they came looking for one person (me!) the bus driver assumed they were with a different company. Of course, if I’d been awake or in the expected room, I would have been able to clear all this up and we would all have been on our way early doors. We arranged for the bus to come for us at 1.30 instead and all promptly went back to bed. However ropey I was feeling, Russ was certainly looking a whole lot worse after deciding that going to bed was a waste of time. Mel, on the other hand, was looking the most bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after sloping off around 2am – lightweight!
The bus journey was fascinating – not just for the fantastic mountain scenery as we headed down to Hoi-An. I had never realised just how badly a bus’s suspension could be and still make a journey of 260km. I had staked out a claim on the middle of the back seat on account of it having the only leg room on the entire bus – i.e. the aisle. Sitting there I was treated to a full panoramic, bouncing glory every time we hit a pot-hole or bump. The distance in height between the front and back of the bus was as much as 8ft at times, depending on how fast our driver decided to steam over the high-quality road surface. The other effect of the poor suspension was the crazy fishtail-concertina effect brought about with every swerve to avoid a motorbike or oncoming vehicle. The best bit about all of this though was watching the effect it was having on Russ. As the journey progressed he grew steadily greener and his face was as good as a large-scale topographical map for the nuances of the road surface – every new irregularity, producing a further wince or grimace. We were all pretty glad to arrive in Hoi-An and readily agreed to stop at the suggested hotel, which was clean and pleasant and only cost $8 for each twin room. Russ and I had agreed to share to save money…but only on the understanding that I was to give him a pair of earplugs.
Our main mission in Hoi-An was to get some clothes tailor-made to send home. I also had designs on the fine local cuisine and was interested in checking out the famous local architecture.
On our first evening we got stuck into the local food – ravenous after our long, painful bus ride and with that peculiar hunger that afflicts only those who’ve battled hard all day with a hangover. The local specialities are White Rose, Cao Lau and fried wonton. Cau Lau is a delicious mixture of doughy noodles, bean sprouts, croutons and barbequed pork topped with crumbled, crispy rice-paper and a tasty sauce. The White Rose are steamed shrimp wrapped in rice-paper and the wonton are like mini-tacos filled with shrimp paste and topped with a bright selection of crispy, stir-fried vegetables. Not just the taste, but the contrasting textures of these foods meant we were all hooked after our first sampling. This was just as well really – if the food had been as shitty as the weather, there’s no way we would have enjoyed waiting while our suits etc. were made up.
It rained almost continuously from the first morning until we left two days later. There was no way I could be bothered with any sight-seeing in the constant downpour and the alternative source of entertainment was eating and drinking…which, surprisingly, I did a lot of. I did attempt to use the time constructively by getting on the internet at a few different places. Unfortunately, the access here was every bit as bad as in Hue and caused mostly frustration.
The other constructive thing we managed to do was to meet up with Mitch (American guy from Hanoi, now living with his new Vietnamese wife in nearby Danang) and his friend and motorbike tour operator, Tin. I had been excited about the prospect of doing something in the way of motorbiking with Tin when I’d first met these guys in the north. With the Aussie crew on board it seemed a 4WD might be a better way of escaping the tourist traps on Highway 1. It was a pleasure to be back in their easy-going company again and we enjoyed a very pleasant lunch at Ly’s Cafeteria 22 – by this stage I was considering myself to be a true connoisseur of Cau Lau, having had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner (and a few extra time for good measure) every day - the Café 22 Cau Lau was definitely my favourite.
Tin was able to put together an interesting-looking itinerary for the 4 days we had to reach Dalat in time for Russ to get the bus down to Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon) for his flight home. Russ and I were definitely game on for our little adventure – even if the cost was a little higher than we’d been expecting. We both reasoned that in ten years time we wouldn’t be remembering how much money we’d spent – but rather, where we’d been, who we’d met and what we’d seen.
Unfortunately, Mel didn’t see things our way – and Mark was unwilling to leave her to travel solo to Dalat via the coast road, despite appearing to be as keen as Russ and I for the adventure. In the end, Russ and I decided to take the trip anyway. Instead of a 4WD we would be riding on the back of two bikes – with Tin and another of his local guides. As we walked away from the meeting, we both had an air of uncontained excitement and wore jubilant grins on our faces: we were going on an adventure to see the ‘real’ Vietnam!