An Eagle’s Hullabaloo in Hoi An

Perhaps I’m being unfair by suggesting that Danang is entirely populated by touts and scoundrels, yet my assertions appeared to manifest, when it required some very colourful discussions and a few minor scuffles, just to travel the short distance from the train station to the bus station. Here, things got decidedly worse, as a prolonged land war was needed to secure a reasonably priced ticket to Hoi An. To call our vehicle a chicken bus, was praise well earned. Every space was utilised, with bags of produce, vintage bikes and smelly cooking equipment filling every space. The staff were also interesting. Any passenger carrying a bag that could contain saleable items, was hasselled for extra money, which got extremely close to violence at times. It took ninety minutes to bounce roughly twenty five kilometres, before we were dumped, in what seemed to be a paddock.

Beautiful Hoi An on Dusk

After asking for directions and receiving many differing answers, we managed to walk several kilometres and find our hotel. It was a difficult morning, but well worth the effort; our accommodation was akin to Nirvana, with a huge sumptuously decorated room and tropical gardens surrounding a pool and ambient eating areas.

The true heart of the old port town ran along a stretch of the Thu Bon River and was a couple of kilomtres from our hotel. We walked this distance initially, but soon realised the benefit of hiring push bikes. This provided us with some terrific fun as we interacted with the multitude of other cyclists, despite our often being on the wrong side of the road. Our only real mishap occurred on a trip to Cu Dai beach. Half way there my chain snapped in two, which forced Katie to ride all the way back. Help arrived in the form of a motorbike, which meant that I had to sit on the back and pull the pushy behind as we weaved through the traffic.

Hoi An

For most travellers, Hoi An is about kicking back and enjoying the fabulous restaurants, the colonial French architecture with the local colour and traditions, but we discovered that it had even more to offer. It was here that we participated in the first cooking class of our trip, which included a visited to a local communal garden for herbs, another trip to purchase ingredients from the local produce market, then yet another trip, this time to the countryside, where we learned to create little plates of Vietnamese bliss. We came home by boat and the obliging old boatman, let me steer the mighty craft all the way back to Hoi An.

The next day we headed off-shore for some scuba diving around the islands. The visibility was good and the ocean didn’t disappoint, as numerous species of fish of all shapes, colours and sizes, swam around us in abundance. We even saw some large schools of yellow fin Barracuda. The dive was a huge deal for Katie, who suffered a life-long fear of deep water. Her face looked grim on the outgoing boat journey as she fortified herself to face the terror of a real life nightmare. With true courage she entered the water and sometime later emerged with a memorable smile. After conquering her greatest fear, she calmly entered the depths for a second dive.

After valiantly defeating the oceans we set out on the first of our progressive dinner courses, utilising differing restaurants throughout the town. We also caught up with Monique, our favourite Dutchy, and some fellow travellers we had met along the journey. On the way to our last restaurant we felt a strong desire to phone home. The news brought us undone. We found a quiet patch beside the river and both wept for Ben; a beautiful boy who had fought bravely and now travelled another path that the living can’t see.

Advertisement

The Night Train to Hanoi

After a noisy, jolting overnighter on the train from Sa Pa, we arrived in the Vietnamese capital of Hanoi, at the ungodly hour of 4.30am. As the train doors opened, wild yells and angry arguments could be heard, as numerous touts and cab drivers jostled for the arriving business. Amongst this bedlam, we managed to negotiate our taxi fare from an initial 120,000 Vietnamese dong to 80,000, then back to 100,000, and finally all the way down to 50,000 dong, without actually saying or doing anything. Eventually, we arrived in a dark alley, in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, so we happily gave our bemused taxi driver a thorough dressing down, whilst getting soaked in the pouring rain. After wandering for a while in the darkness, we finally discovered the May De Ville hostel, up the street, in another tiny alleyway. Apparently, 50,000 dong only gets you so far.

Our Hanoi adventure may not have started well, but events soon changed for the better. The night shift manager happily checked us into our room at 5am and even said that we could help ourselves to a free breakfast at 6.30am, when they began serving. Feeling much better about the state of our world, we dumped our packs and decided to head back out in the pouring rain to experience Hanoi and the lake, before it got too busy. This provided us with an interesting view of the old city, watching all the stall and shop owners setting up for the day, as they opened their shutters, put out their wares and received their deliveries, including very large blocks of ice, which seemed impossibly big for the bicycles they arrived on.

Hanoi in Motion

Later that evening, we went about experiencing Hanoi in full swing. “You buy from me” rang out in a constant cry from each street vendor; selling everything from bananas and pineapples, to t-shirts and even zippo lighters. Here we learnt how to cross busy streets without being skewered by the multitude of motorbikes, travelling in every direction, on both sides of the street and the pavement. An old women carrying two heavy baskets, balanced on either end of a yoke, provided the lesson. Even though her back was bent from the weight, she seemed to negotiate this madness, as if she were out for a leisurely evening’s stroll. So we closed our eyes and very slowly wandered out into the traffic. Amazing! Rather than die horribly, the traffic magically maneuvered around us.

After a lot of hinting, I became acutely aware of the next day’s major event; our second Wedding Anniversary, so we asked the staff where we could find a really great place for dinner. That evening we dined in a lovely Italian restaurant, but later, when we arrived back at the hotel, we thought that someone had broken into our room. Then we noticed the items on the desk. The staff had, of their own accord, organised a very decadent looking cake and a single long-stemmed red rose for our anniversary. To say how marvellous they made us feel, is quite the understatement.

Fisherman in Boat

The next morning we walked out to West Lake for a look at the Pagoda and strolled the streets outside of the Old Quarter, spotting a posh looking French restaurant along the way. We decided to come back there for dinner later on. It didn’t disappoint. We picked out the most impoverished looking Cyclo driver from a loud competing bunch, who rode us very slowly through the traffic, towards our destination. It might well have been romantic, except that our very elderly rider tired visibly, as we proceeded, so we ended up paying him for the entire journey and walking most of the way. Eventually we dined on tempura crab, roast duck, salt & pepper squid and beef with lemon grass.

On the walk back to our hotel, we heard a voice call out “Ken” from within a large unruly crowd and we found ourselves looking at a tall, bespectacled guy, who seemed to know us. After a few moments of befuddlement, we finally recognised Danny, the traveller from Alsager, who we met at the top of the chair-lift in Dali. We also spotted his lovely partner, Michelle, so we joined them for a few beers and traded travel stories, before heading back to the hotel.

The next day we’re to be picked up early by Tien; our guide for the next three days on Ha Long Bay. Could this place be as wonderful and picturesque as they say? Tomorrow will tell us for sure.

I have this strange feeling that someone is watching us!