The ancient town of Hoi An

Thursday, August 4, 2011 – Saturday, August 6, 2011

Day 1

We snoozed the alarm clock so many times, we ended up missing out on our planned 8 am trip to the beach. We woke up rushing to pack all of our clothes. There was no systematic way to how we pack or unpack. It often involves a lot of pulling things out, throwing them in a pile, and then shoving it all back in again when we have to go. I take care of all the toiletries, and Scott takes care of the packing and squeezing-everything-into-our-bags part. We dropped off the motorbike and said goodbye to Bac Di and headed to the airport, 40 minutes away from downtown.

The road there was two lanes on each side and very modern, but it didn’t seem to matter because everyone still drove in the middle of the road as if there was no lane divider. We passed by some miniature pure white sand dunes and finally arrived at the airport. The entire time I was thinking that if we were flying from Nha Trang to Danang, two major tourist areas, we were definitely getting on a big plane. We went to our gate, and there was even the walkway out to plane. I told Scott that I was absolutely sure that we were getting a big plane. I mean, look at all the people! It was double the number of the small prop plane. I saw a prop plane land and insisted that it was not for us. Boy, was I wrong. They called us to board, and we walked outside of the airport where a bus picked us up and drove us to that darn, small plane. There was double the number of people because there were two airplanes; one for business and one for economy! Let’s just say that I faced another hour of intense-Scott-handgripping, and I was happy when we landed, though it was A LOT less turbulent than that first flight from Rach Gia to Saigon. The airport was small and packed. Water was dripping from the ceiling, and there were people from all over the world waiting around in the baggage claim area. We picked up our bags and went outside to find a guy holding my name up with a sign. We got an entire bus to ourselves and were driven Hoi An, the ancient town, which was an hour away.

Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and as such, has retained its ancient homes and buildings. Back in the day, Hoi An was an extremely popular seaport village, and its access to the ocean brought in ships from other countries and facilitated trade between Vietnam and countries such as Japan. The houses and shops are situated along the river, and each year, during the rainy season, the river floods over and water fills the houses, meters high. However, the people of Hoi An have adapted to this change, and the wood has been built to withstand water damage. Hoi An is also known for its abundance of tailors, silk, and silk lanterns. The character of the town is a mix between Vietnamese, Chinese, French, and Japanese cultures, and so is the cuisine. 

Exploring the city

Hoi An lanterns

Beautiful lanterns

Scott and I checked into our hotel and were extremely pleased with what we got for $28/night. It had marbled floors and counters, blissfully cold air-conditioner, and plenty of space. We looked up some places to eat and found a popular one by both Lonely Planet and Tripadvisor called Morning Glory. We set out by foot, and it was hot. There were absolutely no clouds in the sky, and the sun was beating mercilessly down on us. We wondered into the ancient part of the town, and I was amazed by its beauty. Many of the houses were old French villas during the colonial times and painted bright blues and yellows, typical French colors. The shingled roofs were slightly moldy and archaic, just how I liked them. We found Morning Glory, which was a restaurant built inside an ancient French villa. Aside from the weather, I didn’t feel like I was in Vietnam anymore. Scott and I got the window seat and read about the owner, Ms. Ly. This restaurant was about making the Hoi An street food specialties more gourmet. Ms. Ly has opened several restaurants in Hoi An, and she offers premier cooking classes. The menu was amazing. Scott and I ordered white rose dumplings, summer rolls, chicken and rice, and cao lao (a Hoi An specialty consisting of thick udon-like noodles and pork). The food was so fresh and clean.

White rose dumplings (Hoi An specialty)

After lunch, Scott and I walked through the town, which had mostly been transformed into a town of souvenir and tailor shops. We went around and asked prices for different items to get a feel for bargaining. The first store we stopped at was non-profit craft store supporting disabled Vietnamese. They invited us to take pictures of the workshop and I bought a really cool bracelet carved out of a water buffalo horn. I also wanted to find a tailor shop because all the travel books said that this was the place to get suits made for men. Some places asked for $120/suit, some for $90, and we found a place for $70 after some vigorous bargaining and pretending indifference. Scott went next door and bought himself some tailor-made shoes as well. Scott got measured for his suit, and we picked out his fabric, a sandstone color that looked really great on him. I got measured for a dress from some leftover fabric I had. By this time, it was getting dark, and the town started to wake up. 

Artisan

Fine artwork

Working outside

We walked to the river and saw the old Japanese bridge lit aglow with lanterns. Old women were selling candles in paper boxes that you drop in the river, silk lanterns were hanging from the trees, a small cultural show was being performed, and women were dancing on stage. I felt like I had just stepped back in time or into the Disney movie Mulan. The streets were packed with tourists and locals alike. This city, just like all the others, was so different and unique. I have always wanted to put a lantern in a river, so I bought Scott and myself one and watched it float about 7 feet to get pushed into the bushes on the side of the riverbank. Anti-climactic to say the least, but it was the thought that counted. Scott and I started getting hungry again, so we went in search of a restaurant called “The Lighthouse.” We walked for so long my feet started to hurt. We crossed a bridge onto a smaller island where it was supposed to be, and no one on the island knew where it was. We gave up, took a taxi back that cheated us, and went back to Morning Glory. We had another glorious meal. Scott ordered shrimp curry in a coconut, and the only thing he said the entire meal, or rather, sang, was, “My shrimp is in a coconut! My shrimp is in a coconut!” I ordered wonton soup, and we shared white rose dumplings and a mango salad. We just couldn’t go wrong with Morning Glory. We headed back after a long day of activities and quickly fell asleep. We had another activity-packed day ahead of us.

-Audrey 

Curious little boy

Audrey puts a lamp in the river

Photo series #8: The Reading Glass Project

Sorry to bring you back a few weeks, but I never had a chance to post these pictures. Here is another series of pictures from the hospital when we were testing eyesight and handing out reading glasses. I will never travel to another developing country without bringing reading glasses along, it completely enhances your experience and brings even more meaning to your worldly adventures. We share conversations, take pictures and leave glasses.

-Scott

P.S. Read more about the amazing non-profit that gave us the opportunity to give glasses to those in great need: http://readingglassproject.com/.

Nha Trang, Day 2

Day 2

Scott and I had an extremely early wake-call. We had to meet Bac Di at his house at 6:30 am. Once there, we followed him to the pier where we would dock the boat to go spearfishing. On the way, we stopped to buy some banh mi, or barbeque pork sandwiches, to go. At the boats, we met up with three other men. One was a mechanic and responsible for driving the boat. The two others were spearfisherman by hobby. One man was older, wore glasses, and had a mustache. He was a pun master; he liked making jokes by playing on words. The other person was a young 19-year-old man who used to work at a scuba shop before he quit because the owner was not paying him fair wages. Bac Di was a retired cop from Orange County, and an avid spearfisherman. Scott and I felt like we were on some sort of black op mission, and we were with the best guys out there. 

We piled onto a small speedboat and made our way out to the islands dotting the coast of Nha Trang. During this time, we had our breakfast sandwiches, and they were so delicious. The baguette bread was extremely crunchy, the pork was perfectly marinated, and we could have eaten 2 more. The islands we boated to during breakfast were made mostly of stone jutting out from the water. Surrounding the perimeter of the islands were small huts with a red flag and which housed a guard. If you got too close, you would be shot at. These guards protected the coveted and lucrative swallow’s nest. The saliva of the swallow binds the nest together, and it is the saliva that is harvested as a delicacy. The company that runs this is extremely powerful, and soon, most of the island’s coast will be private property, sad news for spearfishermen like Bac Di.

Heading out to sea

The deadly guard shacks

We made our first stop, and all the fishermen geared up to get in the water. They put on wetsuits, snorkels, flippers, and loaded their spear guns. One by one they jumped into the water in search for our lunch. Scott and I stayed on board with “The Mechanic,” or the boat driver. We waited in anticipation as the sun beat down on our bodies and the slight lull of the small boat started to make us feel sick. Just as we were about to be let off on some nearby rocks to beat the seasickness, “The Pun Master,” waved his spear in the air. He climbed aboard and hooked to his belt was a freshly speared rabbit fish. Its silvery skin was still shining, and its face looked like a rabbit’s. We picked up Bac Di, and Win, the youngest. Bac Di also had a fish strapped to his belt. The Mechanic dropped the men off at another fishing spot, and dropped Scott and me off at a small, floating lobster farm.
 

Bac Di and Audrey

That looks sharp

The hunter

Heading into battle (with fish)

Success!

In the middle of the farm was a small wooden house with one large living space inside. Surrounding the farm was water and gridded plank walkways. It looked like a checkerboard, but instead of black and white squares, they were all blue, looking straight down into the ocean. We pulled in, and five miniature black dogs ran out to greet us. They looked like soldiers, all standing guard and at attention. They sniffed us to make sure that we were part of the good guys. The farm swayed a little as the weak current pushed it to and fro. I had a bit of a perpetual stomach ache since we left Rach Gia, and it was acting up again. Scott saw the bathroom and says, “You don’t want to go there.” But in a time of need, you do what you gotta do. I walked the plank to the bathroom, which was a small rectangular, plastic box that went up to my waist. I opened the door, which was attached to a small stick with a plastic fishing string. The toilet was a hole through the wooden planks that opened straight into the ocean. You can guess what the newspaper was for. Let’s just say that it was a success and compared to other squat toilets, quite pleasant.

Shrimp fisherman (lookouts standing in the front)

Beautiful view from the shrimp farm

Our welcoming party to the floating house

Dogs in floating villages are hungry too

What a life

Floating village bathroom experience!

Plain and simple toilet

 Scott and I explored the farm and walked from plank to plank, always in straight lines. We watched the dogs do the same, maneuvering through the farm with ease and comfort. The entire farm had a strange smell to it; it was somewhat fishy, but not quite. I would have to say that it was “shrimpy.” After 15 minutes, The Mechanic came back with the rest of the crew and picked us up. Our next stop was a smaller floating fishing farm where we would cook our lunch. The boat maneuvered through the floating fishing village, and Scott and I admired its charm and beauty. The people who lived here worked hard for a full year to raise lobster to sell to the eating communities. Lobster in Vietnam is very expensive; double to triple the price in the States. However, raising lobster is no guarantee because they can easily die, and one small mistake can put a year’s work and living at jeopardy. Bac Di told us that, recently, at another village, one farmer poured some chemical into the water, and it killed all the lobster being raised in that entire village. Life in Vietnam can be very difficult, even if you work hard. 

Walking the planks

Audrey checking out the shrimp

While waiting for lunch, Scott and I jumped off the side of the floating house and swam to a nearby island. I got stung by some jellyfish on the way, which was not enjoyable. We played around for a while until we were called back for lunch. I piggyback swam on Scott’s back to avoid anymore stings. Scott was my shield. Everything was set up on the floor for us: bowls, chopsticks, drinks, and food. I looked to the side, and the fish was grilled on a small barbeque, the size of a coffee pot. Bac Di’s wife had prepared some food for us, so we had fresh salad and grilled pork chops. Each of the fish caught was slowly brought out and cooked in different styles. First, we enjoyed grilled rabbit fish. The meat was white and tender. Next, we had stewed fish. Finally, we had fried fish. All the while, the men (including Scott) drank rice wine. This alcoholic beverage is sipped from tiny shot glasses, and to me, it does not taste good. It burns more than vodka. The men drink this, one glass after another throughout the entire meal. A black dog came and sat next to me, eyeing my food the entire time. I fed him my left over bones. Even dogs in Vietnam have iron stomachs. Koby would never be able to get seasoned ribs without getting a stomach ache. The owner of the floating house was a tanned old man, whose smiled reminded me of Tien’s mom’s. He had crinkles at the corner of his eyes and a very kind face. He asked me to call him “Uncle”.

Floating village #2

Rugged and beautiful

Audrey getting artsy

More Vietnamese hospitality

After Scott and I could not possibly eat anymore, we asked if we could take the circular bamboo boat out for a spin. They explained to us that the boat was difficult to steer, so Win, the youngest, went out to get the boat. Next thing we know, he is sitting in the boat, stirring the water to and fro in a very peculiar manner. We get on, and it was so wobbly. Circular boats do not balance well. We each sat equidistant to each other on the perimeter and rowed around the house. Win taught Scott, who caught on well. All the men then asked us if we wanted to eat some squid. The owner of the house seemed eager to share, so Scott and I agreed. Before we knew it, they had caught a gigantic squid! I had never seen one so big. They let me hold it, and take pictures to pretend that I caught it. I would love to take credit, but I can’t. The squid was orange, and its sides were squirming and rippling. It shot water out of its mouth about 3 feet and scared me half to death. The Uncle cut off the tentacles, gutted the squid, pulled out the ink sac, and offered it to us to eat raw. We hesitated for a moment and agreed. We thought, “Why not? This is our one chance!” I also thought to myself, “My stomach is going to hate me later, but I’ll deal with that when it happens.” I put the live tentacle into my mouth and chewed more vigorously than I ever had before. I didn’t want it to try anything funny. Scott put one in his mouth, and he said that he could feel the tentacles sucking his tongue. He had to physically put his finger in his mouth and pull it off the roof of his mouth. The meat was crunchy and sweet. I wasn’t careful enough with the second tentacle, and it sucked my tongue. It was the weirdest feeling and totally freaked me out. It would be rude to spit it out, so I smiled, crunched the darn thing between my molars and swallowed. It was a strange experience, and I am not sure if I would do it again, but at least I can say that I have tried live squid. Scott was offered the raw mouth and told to make sure not to swallow the beak. He couldn’t say no, so he ate it with courage. The fisherman grilled the rest of the body, and we ate it. Throughout the meal, the pun master would say cryptic things such as, “When the meat of the squid turns white, it is ready to eat. If the skin of your wife turns white, be ready to run.” I could imagine him with a long white mustache and beard, stroking it as he told us his puzzling adages. We sat awhile longer with the men and enjoyed the turquoise of the water. The men finished another liter of rice wine. Storm clouds were brewing, so The Mechanic got us all on the boat to get back before it started raining. We said goodbye, and Uncle said words so reminiscent of Tien’s mom, “Don’t forget to come back again and visit me. Remember me when you got back home.” We said that we would.

Touring the floating village!

Scott giving it a shot

Pretending to catch the MASSIVE squid we ate

Cleaning

Grilling

Freshly grilled squid!

Back on the small motorboat, we got to learn more about Bac Di. He is a retired cop from Orange County and had so many stories to tell us about his adventures and the dangers of his job. We were fascinated. Scott and I could not believe all the great people we had met in Vietnam so far, Vietnamese and American alike. Being in Vietnam had enabled us to make new friends. It seems that traveling to a different country brings people closer together. Travelers are a tight knit group of people, and Vietnamese friends are loyal and loving. After we docked, we said our goodbyes and biked back to our hotel to freshen up before exploring the long stretch of beach that is Nha Trang. The beach was extremely crowded. People were parasailing, jetskiing, tanning, lounging, and playing in the water. It was pretty much the direct opposite from the peace and quiet of Phu Quoc Island. Scott and I tanned and fell asleep on the beach, and then decided to go to a famous brewhouse in Nha Trang, Louisiane Brewhouse. We got lost a few times driving along the main road mostly because it was so crowded. We had to stop and ask a taxi driver how to get there. Anytime I pronounce an English word in the English pronunciation, the locals never understand, so I have to add a little Vietnamese twist to it, and all of a sudden, they know what I am talking about.

We finally found the place, and it was quite nice. We walked in, and there were large copper vats in the entrance. The dining area was luxurious, and there was a pool in the middle of the outdoor seating area. Scott and I sat down. At first I spoke to the waiter in English, decided that I preferred Vietnamese, and surprised them. They always seemed happy that I can speak Vietnamese even though I am sure that they would rather practice their English than listen to my broken Vietnamese. They are usually nice enough to give in and converse with me in Vietnamese, at which point, Scott guesses what I am saying by my body language and the few words he knows. He is usually spot on. We tried the beer tasting sample. The owner of the brewhouse is from New Zealand, and his mission was to bring microbrewed beer to Nha Trang, which was right up Scott and my alley. I was tempted to jump into the pool, but was told by the waitress that it was only for daytime use. The place looked like it could house a really hoppin’ party. Scott and I headed home early again only because all the activities of the day had tired us. We had woken as the sun was rising over the coast of Nha Trang. Though it is worth it, traveling from place to place can be exhausting, so before we knew it, we were asleep, and it was already the next morning.

-Audrey

Scott cruising on our motorbike (picture taken from a taxi)