Hoi An – three pairs of pants

2 November 201526 January 2018

Day 49 (Mon 2 Nov): Hoi An to P’rao (HCM trail)

I really didn’t want to leave Hoi An. Or my hotel. I enjoyed both very much. But onwards and upwards (geographically speaking at least).

My Son (pronounced “me sun”) is a series of groups (inspiringly named A – H, with a few missing due to reasons unknown) of Hindu temples constructed between C4 and C14 by the kings of the region (for those who’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that this is the same time as the Cambodian ones). Except there’s not much left of them, partly due to time but mostly due to American bombs. I asked Hai if he’d seen them. He had. And before the American War. So he didn’t want to come with me – I’m not sure I’d want to go back to see the remains either.

Some interesting information about the place:

no cement or mortar was used, but a kind of glue (how this differs to the concept of cement and mortar, which are essentially adhesives, I’m not sure, but let’s go with it)
All the doors open to either the east or west (as per the Cambodian ones)
One of their main characteristics are their square corners:

And this is….?

Yep, a shiva linga (and the font was pointing north, as expected). And this cheeky (mythical) chappy:

He’s a cross between an elephant and a lion.

Displayed alongside the ancient carvings were more recent additions:

Whilst they weren’t as physically impressive as the Angkor temples, they had something about them. Maybe the shadow of war, the lack of tourists, and certainly the valley setting. It was peaceful yet powerful.

Again, much evidence of “restoration”:

I fear that they are gradually working their way round the 70 or so temples and, whilst it’s nice to see how one or two would have looked, I’d rather just see them as they are.

A different sort of wildlife review now, starting with a tree. Which drop “branches” that are really roots:

And some pre-bacon specimens:

Finally managed to catch a pic of a dragonfly:

But this beaut is my fave of the day:

She was selling tobacco. Strong tobacco, I’m reliably informed. In its raw form – none of this filter cigarette stuff. What fascinated me more, however, was her flexibility and her age. She looked well into her 80s, but it’s difficult to tell as people round here have a hard life. I’d noticed walking through the markets of Hoi An how many traders were elderly women. But, of course, there is no social security and they live hand-to-mouth so the concept of retirement is alien to much of the population. Life’s tough in these parts.

Mechanical looms. They’d stop the machine to sort bits out every now and again, but otherwise it was a deafening clickety-clack. Oh, and notice his attire and bare feet. That’s the way it’s done out here.

And then I had a go at making rice paper. Not difficult, to be honest – just spread out a ladle of gunge (this is not, obviously the technical name, but quite descriptive of the ground rice and water mixture) in a circle:

… steam for a minute or so and then lift out:

She makes 200 a day. Every day. Mind-blowing work, but she and her family seemed content. Making a dollar out here means you’re lucky…

Boarding the boat from the pier:

… I pondered how accustomed to Asian life I’d become. If this had been my first river trip, the condition of the pier and the boat, and the “turn up and go” shuttle service would have made me notice. Today I just took it in my stride.

As we neared the other side, Hai pointed out these boats:

They’re peoples homes. That’s all they have, a whole family living on one of these, the children going off to school in the morning and returning here in the afternoon. Fishing for food, and maybe some to sell, is how they survive. And that’s all they do – survive. Yet their satisfaction (in the main) for life is evident – cruising through the small villages, they seemed happy. Certainly happier than their English counterparts. Our culture is to be dissatisfied, to whinge, to want everything perfect. Here, they just get on with it, and enjoy it more in the process. Perhaps because, for many of them, the horrors of war are still fresh in their minds. I’ve only ever lived in “peace time”. I’m slowly becoming aware of what this really means, how lucky I am and how much my life would change if war broke out.

Random picture: when we got to the other side, it was bin day.

And so we sped through the mountains by (very powerful) motorbike. The views were magnificent. I took lots of photos (there’s not much else to do when you’re sat on the back of a bike for hours), but here are my favourites:

Pulled up at our guest house for the night… where a big government meeting had convened “to do business”. Same the world over – lots of handshakes, toasts, drinking, men and laughter.

View from my room:

And then dinner with Hai:

… and the rice wine (with ginseng), which is strong but apparently doesn’t give you a hangover (can’t validate either way, I’m afraid, as I drank three sips and that was only out of politeness; Hai, on the other hand, was knocking it back):

Turns out Hai fought in the war for southern Vietnam: he has the war wounds (chest and leg) to prove it, and he’s deaf in one ear due to a bomb going off in close proximity.

Quote of the day: “What sort of fish is this?”

“Fish. From the sea.”

Ah yes, of course. Silly me 😉

1 November 201526 January 2018

Day 48 (Sun 1 Nov): Hoi An (day off, old town)

A day chilling in Hoi An. Having bought a tourist ticket, I felt like I should visit a few more of the sites. The Chinese Assembly hall was good:

… but without information boards, I didn’t really know what it was all about and, quite frankly, I couldn’t be bothered to research it. Sorry 🙁

And then I stumbled across the (free!) folk museum which contained traditional instruments:

And was treated to a performance by the resident artiste:

It’s interesting how every culture has developed similar instruments. Same, but different 😉

Walking past the Central Market:

… I noticed these two (see ’em?):

I thought she might be picking out lice (it can be a problem here) but on questioning and closer inspection, I realised she was picking out early-growth grey hairs. I’d noticed that Vietnamese have jet-black hair, seemingly immune to the bleaching effect of the sun. But not immune to a bit of grey. Personally, I’ve never seen the point. It’s a slippery slope… And explains why some of the old ladies are bald.

I ache after yesterday’s biking (it’s been a while as I’ve been travelling), but massage prices are high here, and I’ve been advised that the quality is variable. But then, suddenly, the price dropped from $25 to $15, for a decent spa the other side of the river. I’m not sure whether this was a RAOK* or because I’m nice 😉 or something to do with them seeing me blogging. However, given that she dropped me back at my hotel, too but wouldn’t let me pay her, I suspect that it was because she was nice 😉 I was gently pummeled back to life.

It was a good day to take off – it rained. Unfortunately, I think the rain has set in, which means my mountain tour may be slightly ill-timed. But I’m here now. So it’s now that I’ll go. I also managed to get my phone wet, so I’ve taken the precaution of removing it from its case and switching it off. Uploading and taking photos will cease for a while.

Oh, and I went for a swim in the hotel pool. Swam a few (short) lengths, tried to tumble and promptly choked. Turns out that my body has remembered the snorkelling. It wouldn’t let me exhale through my nose underwater. If you don’t do this, water goes up your nose when you turn upside down. Just couldn’t breathe out underwater. Oh my. How long to re-retrain? Luckily, it was another 5 minutes. Still not quite comfortable, but it meant I could get a few laps in. Astonished how quickly it’s forgotten its previous training.

And now to dinner and then bed – tomorrow I hit the mountains of central Vietnam 🙂

*Random Act Of Kindness

31 October 201519 June 2022

Day 47 (Sat 31 Oct): Hoi An (mountain biking)

Mountain biking through the countryside of central Vietnam. No visits to rice paper makers. No stops at farms, bars, cafes, arts centres. Just me and Pascal biking. We took the ferry across to a smaller island:

… and made a 45km circuit through villages, woodland and across rivers. Oh yes, across rivers. On robust constructions such as this:

And the concrete bridge (“It looks OK, but only walk on these two lines – the rest could give way anytime.”) And sometimes we just rode straight through the middle.

I didn’t take many photos, but these give a flavour:

Shouts of “hello!” met us everywhere we went. It actually got kinda wearing towards the end! Everyone, young and old wanted to greet us. It was obviously a lucky day for weddings (dates aren’t chosen arbitrarily, or for logistical reasons, in these parts: the relevant authorities are consulted well in advance and they advise when the luckiest date is. I told you they believe in luck. And superstition). We saw four. Going past one, I was being very British and trying not to look too intrusively… and was met with cries of “Hello! Hello!” They’re friendly folk, especially in the countryside where they don’t see many tourists.

Wildlife was abundant:

water buffalo
geese
a snake (that I almost ran over because it bolted when we came close)
herons
lots and lots of dogs (all in very good condition, APU)
a ma-hoosive butterfly (about the size of a starling – just gutted that they never alight so I can’t get a decent photo)
and, the piece de resistance, a magnificent kingfisher (it parked right in front of us, startlingly blue; just beautiful)

And then, in the midst of the beautiful countryside we hit a bank. At the top was this:

They can’t extend the existing highway. So they’re building another. And this is a communist country so none of this protesting, and the like. If they say it’s going to be built, you can’t do anything about it. The good of the country comes before the individual. I question who’s deciding what’s “good for the country”, though…

Going was slow in places (ever tried cycling on sand – one step forward, two steps back?), but so glad I did it. Great to be out on the bike, just for the pleasure of it. And there’s another difference. At one point, a lorry passed us and, as he neared, the driver made a sign with his hands and shook his head. “He’s telling us the road doesn’t go anywhere,” explained Pascal (a Frenchman who met his wife-to-be travelling in 1994, married and lived in France for 13 years until fire devastated his business; “if I was going to have to re-build anyway, I decided I’d rather do it in Vietnam”). Apparently, the concept of going for a cycle bike is alien to them:

cycles are used by poor people, those who can’t afford a motorbike
bikes are a mode of transport used for work only, so why go when you can lie in a hammock (remember their way of life is much more physical than ours)
outdoors is to be avoided – it’s hot (which makes the skin brown, and here white is idealised)

Another first-world brain moment.

I arrived back in Hoi An tired, happy and hungry. Oh, and saddlesore. Glad I’ve a day for my bruised sitbones and lady bits to recover before I get on that motorbike.

30 October 201526 January 2018

Day 46 (Fri 30 Oct): Hoi An (Tang Ky old house, an old friend, night market)

Everything was fine. It was fine. Yes, it was fine.

OK, it wasn’t fine. I’ve stayed in some horrible places, but this took things to a new level. The room hadn’t been serviced since the last person, and I don’t think the wet room had ever been cleaned. It wasn’t so much the hair in the sink, or the taps that came off in your hands, but the mould crawling up the wall. I swear it moved. I knew from past experience that a terrible hotel was a recipe for not enjoying a place (c.f. Otres Beach), but I didn’t want to spend part of my two days looking for a new one – I knew that prices were quite high here because it’s a popular tourist spot. I’d noticed a “Travel Lodge” opposite, but prices on TripAdvisor were outside my budget. I decided on a maximum and went over. Got a basement room. The hotel’s only been open three months. It’s spotless. A bit outside my budget, but instantly I knew I’d made the right decision.

Suddenly, I liked Hoi An a whole lot more (and I’d liked it the previous evening). Towns in Asia have all been kind of similar – dusty streets, concrete (Vietnam) or wooden (Cambodia) houses, work and personal life intertwined. Hoi An was completely different. French colonial architecture dominated, especially in the old town:

Bustling, but with a sense of calm and a happy vibe. I liked it. I wanted to stay longer. A quick call to Hai and I extended my stay.

Tang Ky is an example of the old style merchant house incorporating Japanese, Chinese and Vietnamese influences as, once upon a time, they lived here side-by-side. It’s also completely restored. Again. Interesting how the concept of “maintaining historical buildings” differs by country.

Long and narrow, goods were brought in from the river on one side, and sold at the street on the other. No windows made it very dark (but there would have been houses each side originally).

Confucius’ cup. You may have heard of the ancient Chinese philospher Confucius. Well, he came across a cup. When you fill it up, it empties. To drink from it, you have to fill it only 80%. The physics are interesting. It has two columns; when filled, liquid rises above the chamber of the second column, spills through the chamber and out of the bottom of the cup. Hydro-static pressure creates a siphon and empties the entire cup. By filling it only 80%, the system isn’t triggered.

The psychological aspects of it are more interesting. It teaches us moderation. We constantly strive for one hundred percent – to do it all, have it all and be it all. But what if 80 percent was enough, accepting that ourselves and others don’t have to be perfect. Taking the pressure off, no longer striving for perfection. Wouldn’t that be kinda nice. Isn’t eighty percent more than enough?

“Sam!”

Someone knew my name. But I was in Hoi An. It was Joan – I’d met her and her son in Saigon and we’d gone to the War Remnants Museum together. She was great fun to be with, but had had to leave straight after our visit to go to Vung Tau (I’d have made a stop there too, if I hadn’t been seriously running out of time). And here she was – right in front of me in Hoi An. Small world.