Textick

Monday, December 12th, In Transit Between Hoi An and Hue, on a bus with leg room but awful service, where I keep getting jerked around as I’m trying to type. 2:25pm

I’m in a terrible mood. All I can do right now is sigh moodily and frown. It’s not James, I promise. It’s merely a series of events involving bad service, awful weather and being ripped off that have left me angry, disenchanted and exhausted . But, in order to try to cheer myself up, and remember that amongst the crappy times there have been quite pleasant times, I’m going to first list the things I loved about Hoi An, and then I’ll discuss the reasons we’re both in such foul, foul moods. And maybe by then, courtesy of the cathartic nature of writing, I mightn’t be quite so irritated as well.

Why I Loved Hoi An:

a) The shopping. Now, I’m not a shopper. In fact, the thought of spending hours shopping makes me want to break out in shingles and chew off my own hand. But, at the same time, I simply cannot resist a bargain. Hoi An is the tailoring capital of SE Asia (even more so than Bangkok, because the suits are cheaper but the qualities the same, if not better). In every shop window there were delectable jackets and dresses and suits, and I’m a total jacket-junkie, so I went a little weak at the knees a lot. Added to that, there are shoe shops everywhere that tailor shoes to your feet, and let you chose the colours and designs you want, all for a stupidly low price. Of the tailoring, James and I got a suit each (me with a skirt suit, though), plus James got five silk shirts and two more pairs of trousers, and I got three silk shirts, two cotton and a thick winter overcoat. That all came to the low, low price of about $300US, which was unbelievable. Posting it to London, however, was an extra $100US, but we simply couldn’t carry it all around with us. We also got shoes. James got a pair of leather shoes, and I got two pairs of leather slip-ons, and a pair of high heels. They were meant to cost us about $59, but then we paid a deposit of 200,000 Dong (about $15US), and then we got charged $61 when we went to pick up the shoes today. That’s a major reason we’re so crappy right now. That’s a lot of money we got ripped off, and we were so angry that we’ve left our receipts with the girl at the hotel we were at, and she has agreed to sort it out. If she can’t, we get nothing back but at least she tried. If it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t even have the chance to get the money. We’re not really expecting to get it, though. Anyway. This is under “reasons I’m in a shitty mood”, not “reasons I love Hoi An,” so I’ll bitch more about us getting ripped off later. But first, I know $10US or whatever it is doesn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a) the principle, and b) a lot of money in Vietnam. But anyway, the shopping here is incredible, and you can easily go nuts buying clothes and knick-knacks. We went with a tailor named Mr. Tuan, who was so camp it made me happy. He danced around the store and wriggled his hips and cooed over how lovely the material felt, saying “yes!” a lot and grinning at us with tobacco-yellowed teeth. A Norwegian couple came in when we first went into Mr. Tuan’s, and got some hideous but well-made clothes (jackets with dragons embroidered on the back, shirts that looked one colour in one light and another colour in another, Chinese silk shirts with gold lettering on it, etc). They actually helped us decide to go with Tuan, because even though their clothes were awful and tacky for our tastes, they were really well-made and fit wonderfully. Tuan was the first tailor we walked into, and we went with him because we had a good feeling about him. We weren’t wrong, our clothes looked fantastic, and although my shirts needed adjustment (they all gaped over my boobs, the curse of the East/West style breasts that all the women in my family seem to have been blessed with). The suits looked incredible though, and James shirts fit perfectly, and my overcoat looked wonderful as well. I broke out in a sweat just trying it on, so good to know it’s nice and warm for London!!! The next day, when we came to try out clothes on, Tuan’s three daughters were running around the store, so our fantasy that we were helping Hoi An’s gay community was shattered. But the clothes were still good. He said he has 20 tailors working for him in a shop somewhere (read: sweatshop), 5 for pants, 5 for shirts, 5 for jackets, 5 for skirts/dresses. I think that is pretty standard here. All in all it took about 24 hours to have everything we wanted made. It explained the tobacco-stained teeth, since I’m sure when he has a big order he’d stay up all night.
b) The food. Hoi An has a few speciality dishes that are just divine. One is called “White Rose,” and is a steamed rice pastry-thing wrapped around shrimp and pork, served in a sweet vinegary sauce. They have fried wontons and a soup called Cau Lau or something as well, which is apparently only made in Hoi An because it requires special water from a well located just outside of the city. We met up with Jamie again fairly quickly, and ate dinner on Sunday night at a place called Café Des Amis, where we ordered the set menu’s for vegetarian, seafood and meat, and had about thirty dishes in total. The chef apparently just makes whatever he feels like on the night, and watches over you as you eat to make sure you’re enjoying everything. It was all divine, especially when capped off with a bottle of red! Plus, some restaurants in Hoi An served us chicken. Yay!!
c) The architecture. The buildings here are exquisite and very picturesque. Yellow facades with teal shutters, moss covered rooves, dinky concrete alleyways lit by swinging lanterns. Every restaurant has exposed beams or floorboards or a plant-covered balcony. These are a very strong Portuguese, French and Chinese influence in everything, and we saw more French influence here than anywhere else. In fact, Jamie, James and I attempted to play French Trivial Pursuit on Saturday night. We managed to figure out a lot of the questions through the answer, or through key words that have echoed into the English language. Eventually Jamie won, I think, not surprising since he’s the Englishman (with a Canadian wife)! James and I also played a game of French scrabble, which I managed to win. It wasn’t too different, but there was no letter “q” and not many other letters, but then they might have just gone missing from years of drunk people playing it. Oh, we played these games in a pub called “Tam-Tam’s”.
d) The inventive ways people have come up with for dealing with the fact that pubs in Hoi An close at 11pm (even on Saturdays). After playing French Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble, and feeling a little tipsy but not drunk, we decided to party on at a makeshift pub outside of town. We got our beer in handy take-away containers (they pushed us out the door after tipping the rest of our pints into plastic cups), we were inundated with scooter-drivers and PR boys, shoving leaflets for illegal pubs into our hands and promising us free rides to the venue. We were a bit put-off by the handwritten flyer for the “Dream Bar,” so we decided to take the free bus to the pub Jamie had been to the night before. Now this place was DEFINITELY illegal. It was behind heavy blankets and bare aside from graffiti’d walls, dodgy barstools and a pool table. Two European men ran the bar, which James and I decided made it about 1000 times more dodgy. We played pool, dank some more, I asked for a whisky and got that vile Vietnamese whisky I’d sworn never to touch again. I chatted to a couple of girls with mongrel accents (Canadian/English, and Australian/English). Then I decided I was super bored, because, well, it was boring. An experience, seeing this spot that looked like an abandoned shop becoming an illegal drinking spot, but the novelty wore off when I caught my pants on a nail and tore them a little, and when the conversation just became forced and dull. Not with the girls, they were lovely, but just in general. So James and I decided to walk back to our hotel, but it was too far, so we ended up catching a scooter. It was my first time on one, and it was amazing. James and I both hopped on the back, and we whizzed through the empty streets, hair flapping in the breeze. I had my hands around the drivers stomach, which I think he found weird because he kept chuckling and patting my hands in an awkward way. But there was nowhere else for me to hold, so I just held him loose but close. The only alarming moment was when a dog ran out in front of us, but aside from that it was fine.

(continued 11:20pm, 13th December, Tuesday, Binh Minh Hotel, Hue. I am now so not angry or irritated by anything, in fact, I’m in a super mood, but I’ll try to recapture the frustration of our final day in Hoi An)

e) The smallness and the cleanness. The city is made up of about eight interconnecting streets, and all the streets are tidy, and all the buildings are ramshackle enough to be charming, but new enough to make the place look liveable. We saw barely saw any makeshift lean-to’s. We got a little lost on our first day, and I convinced James to head down a dinky alleyway to try and find our way back to the main street. He was grumpy because of the weather, and I was grumpy because he was grumpy, and also because I was blaming him for my being grumpy, which made me even grumpier that I couldn’t even blame him because I knew being grumpy was my choice. So we semi-stomped down this alleyway and suddenly found ourselves wandering this narrow brown-dirt road through all the houses where the real Vietnamese lived. We’d seen people living above their shops, but these houses were much more fascinating. And they were really nice, nothing like we’d seen before, but not so nice that it didn’t feel like we were in Hoi An. It was like walking through a caravan park or something (a caravan park where there are no caravans, only annexes). Each property had a neatly tended garden, and chooks ran around the road and through the gardens. Suddenly we realised we were both grinning. It was such a strange place to be, knowing that we were somewhere tourists never went. And this was cemented by the fact that every Vietnamese who passed gaves us a “what the…?” look and then said “hello” cheerfully but a bit amused by our presence. We left the houses and walked along a dirt track which was muddy, and most likely a path through a farm. A farmer was in a paddy-field, and he called out “hello!” and we waved and said “hello!” back. He watched us for awhile, bemused, then continued his work. We were probably trespassing. Finally we headed back towards where we thought the main road was, and suddenly there was a puppy bounding out of a property and dancing around our feet. It kept jumping up and down on the spot, trying to get us to play. We were like “oh, you’re cute” and then we kept walking. But he followed us! The owner called to him, but the puppy kept following us. We tried to send him back, but he wouldn’t go. So we kept him. Just joking. Eventually, after about five minutes of trying to get him to stay, we just walked off. The puppy reached a point where he didn’t want to explore any further, and then just sniffed some grass, watched us, then ran home.
f) The general healthiness of all animals. The animals in Hoi An are in a million times better condition than anywhere else, perhaps because it appears to be a wealthier city. For the first time, I was really tempted to pet animals in the street, rather than constant fear of rabies, fleas and mange. The cutest (a close match against the puppy, but the winner for me) was a tiny black kitten, that was fast asleep in a shop. The shop was narrow, and had two rows of goods, and the cat was sitting smack-bang in the middle of the two rows, at the very front, so you could barely enter the shop. I gasped and pointed, and the lady smiled and giggled a little. I wanted to pat the kitten so much, but I resisted. It looked so zen. It didn’t even budge when I was standing directly over it. Also, I found a kitten in the swimming pool room of our hotel. It was meowing all afternoon, then I found it, and the nightwatchmen climbed over everything looking for it. I don’t know if he was successful. And in the pub we went to, there was a plump silver kitten asleep on top of the television, which was up in the highest corner of the room. I went and got James to show him, and we both “oohed” and “aahed” over it for awhile, much to the amusement of the bar staff. Oh, and this same pub remembered our drinks from the night before. Jamie, James and I walked in and the girl said “same as yesterday? Two beers and a Johnnie Walker Red?”. It was cool, but also very, very frightening.

Why I Left Hoi An Hating It

a) Our hotel. At first we thought it was glamorous and wonderful, with a swimming pool and cosy atmosphere. But then we moved rooms. We went to a cheaper room, but got about $10 less in value, rather than $4. There was no mini-bar, which sounds minor, but when you can’t drink the tap water, brushing your teeth at 3am without bottled water isn’t quite possible. There were windows, but they were tiny and tinted, so no light got in. It was right by the road as well, so the honking and the traffic was constant and sounded like it was echoing off every surface. It smelled like someone had been developing photos in the bathroom. We couldn’t find the remote for the air-con, and couldn’t open any windows because of the mosquitoes. The hot water lasted about ten minutes. Our breakfast was downgraded, so we could only have egg breakfasts, but no bacon. We couldn’t figure out how to lock and unlock the door, and it took about ten goes every time. The roof was slanted, and the first part was so low that James had to duck his head. In the bathroom, there were chunks out of the plaster from people’s fingernails scratching the roof when showering. The roof over our bed had dirty handprints all over it. Not once did anybody clean our room, and we had to go and get toilet paper ourselves at one stage. The staff at the hotel were constantly on the internet. If you wanted to use it, they got off, but they never went back to work. They just sat in a corner and smoked. Also, one person would tell you something, and the next day another person would tell you the opposite. But then, after terrible, terrible service, the girl at the desk helped us get our money back from the shoe scandal (which we got, by the way!! They delivered it to us here at the Binh Minh in Hoi An, which was just so generous and really helped make up for the generally crappiness of our stay there). So there might have been some dodgy laziness and bad rooms happening, but all it takes is one nice deed to cancel out all the bad. Sometimes. Plus the service we’ve had here at the Binh Minh has been outstanding. Everyone here is frighteningly friendly and helpful.
b) Sickness. Yep, the belly-bug struck us both. It wasn’t too bad, but it was bad enough to make an already disillusioned view of Hoi An become even more disillusioned. Especially when James has to run to reception to get me more toilet paper because apparently our room is so crappy it doesn’t even deserve to be serviced.
c) The Cham Ruins tour. Now. This is a mixed love/hate thing. It was just a bizarre experience, and we actually really loved most of it. The ruins were fabulous, and we went early in the morning so it was quiet and atmospheric. It was definitely a good choice, despite the fact that it rained constantly. There were eight of us in the bus, four Germans and another Aussie couple. We snoozed most of the way to the Chams (it being 6 a.m. and all), and finally stopped at 7:30 for the free breakfast. In a tin shack. With a mattress in the corner that the family obviously slept on. They watched TV and played games on their mobile phones while we sat in flimsy garden chairs and got told eggs are no longer available. So all we could have was bread and cheese. Bread and cheese! So we got bread and cheese and a strong, black coffee, and sat there mumbling over the fact that this was, by far, the dodgiest place we’d eaten. It was honestly tin, wooden posts and a tarpaulin. Plus unidentifiable bird/duck/chicken/geese things running around. James used the bathroom as well, and said the toilets were definitely the worst he had ever seen. I held. We walked up to the ruins, and as we went we had a special guide adopt us. A dog! The dogs here all have this weird tail thing happening. They’re all mongrels, but there are a lot with tails that have feathered fur and curl up over their backs. This dog was very friendly, just trotting along ahead of us, leading the way. As we got closer, another yellow dog ran out and went bananas at the black dog (hmm…a parallel with the current racial climate in NSW??). Everyone in the group backed off slowly. The yellow dog snarled and barked and growled and bared his teeth. The black dog didn’t even flinch. He was calm as a Buddhist, and didn’t even bother to look at the yellow dog. I decided the black dog was a ninja, and the yellow dog was like one of those henchmen who does all the fancy moves and noises and spins around and looks threatening, and then the hero ninja goes “Ya!” and gives one smack and the henchman drops dead. No one else seemed to appreciate this comparison as much as I hoped. The dog didn’t follow us the whole way. He just led us to the next bus which would drive us to the ruins. It began to drizzle more, but we weren’t bothered. The ruins were fabulous. The rain added atmosphere, and mist curled around the crumbling bricks and columns. Inside one, the strong smell of bat, inside another, a bath for keeping holy water. There were about ten buildings in total, and we wandered around, sticking our heads in, taking photos. It began to rain more heavily. The tour guide saw us and said, “Where your umbrella?” and we explained that we’d lost it. He said, “you share with me!” and let me hop under his umbrella. He walked in a way that made sure I was always covered. James had his camera around his neck, and he decided to put it in my backpack. I had to pause for the slightest second while he did this. The guide didn’t notice, and he moved on. Then suddenly, out of bloody nowhere, this stupid German guy jumps under the umbrella!!!!!! He had a raincoat on, and I was only centimetres away from the brollie, and he ducked in front of me and stole my spot. The rain was really heavy by now, and James and I just stood with shocked, slack jaws, getting saturated. I have never, ever experienced anything so rude!! We were like “are you serious???” and this German guy just kept walking. Then another German couple took pity on us, and gave us their umbrella because they had raincoats, which made up for the bad example their friend had just set. We went and saw another ruin which had once been a 24 foot temple, but was destroyed by a bomb. It was now just a pile of bricks held together with a metal harness. The German-Umbrella-Stealer had to touch a statue that represented the phallus, because he was single. No wonder he was single if he goes around stealing people’s umbrella-space. Then the guide gave us an option of going back to the bus through jungle or the way we came, and we all said jungle, but then ONE PERSON said no and nobody bothered to argue against him, so we didn’t get to do that. Even that guys girlfriend was disappointed. So we drove back, napping on and off. So despite stupid people, the tour was really pretty and interesting.
d) Getting ripped off. Because we were so cold and wet, we paid for 100,000 Dong for some umbrellas, which was about 80,000 Dong too much. I was annoyed that neither of us said anything, we just assumed the other was fine with it, which they weren’t, but we were too tired and wet to argue. Then we got overcharged for those shoes. And we got overcharged for a meal we ate the night before. All this got us a little cranky, but it’s because we’d never been jipped before (or caught it when we were), so the fact that we had a few things happen close to each other really woke us up and showed us that we had to be more alert.
e) And then, last but not least, the bus trip. We were tired to begin with. It was raining. The shoes thing had made us super cranky. And then the bus arrived ½ an hour late, and the guys running it didn’t get off the bus to help me with my bags. It’s the first time someone’s not helped. James was trying to sort out the shoes, so I had to kneel in a puddle and shove our bags underneath by myself, while the driver hung out the window watching. An Israeli girl we keep seeing was also on the bus, but she kept her bag and they kept yelling at her to put it down the back and sit down. They were so shockingly rude. Needless to say, I’m glad we get to just train it to Hanoi, where we can sleep all night and go to the toilet whenever we want. Oh, and the driver and his assistant smoked cigarettes constantly. And we didn’t get to see anything of the supposedly beautiful drive between Hoi An and Hue, thanks to constant miserable greyness and drizzle.

But despite this, we ended up laughing. It just took awhile to find our smiles again. Oh yeah, and on the bus, after we were feeling cheated and ripped off and everything, we wanted to buy a Snickers each, and we bartered so good! We got that woman down about 10,000 Dong, and that Snickers tasted so goooood! James said, “Mmmm…comfort food.” After that bartering win, we were in a much, much better mood. Also, when we arrived in Hue, the hotel we stopped at was Binh Minh 2, and we were hoping to stay at Binh Minh 1. When we told them this, they sat us down, offered us coffee, and got Binh Minh 1 to send a car for us!! And no one would let us carry our own luggage, and they all covered us with umbrellas and got wet to protect our clothes which were damp anyway. But it’s the thought that counted. So we felt much better after being so well taken care of. It helped to make us feel better. And then when we got the money back, we were even MORE happy!! So it’s life, I guess (pop philosophy coming up!): whenever it gets bad, the good is not far away!

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 15th, 2005 at 7:05 pm and is filed under Travel, Vietnam. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.