We walked over to the restaurant, Balle Walle, that had been recommended to us the day before. Initially we passed up the alley and had to double back when we realized we had gone too far. Finally, we found it. I had the card, from the restaurant in Saigon, upon which was written the names of the dishes we wanted, but we soon learned that Bale Well served one set meal. We were seated, ordered 2 Saigon beers, and instead of being brought menus, were brought food.
A basket of lettuce, some kind of clover, and mint
10 skewers of grilled pork
4 large Vietnamese pancakes (Binh Xeo)
rice papers
sauces
The waitress asked us how hot we wanted our sauce and added an appropriate amount of peppers. She then gave us a demonstration of how to roll and eat the food. We dug in! As we ate we began a conversation with a man from Prague who was in Vietnam to teach English. He had just finished 6 weeks of intense training, had 2 weeks off before he began teaching, and was spending the time exploring Vietnam. It was the dead of winter in Prague and he was enjoying the warm weather. We all agreed that the food was fantastic. The restaurant had also been recommended to him by a local.
As I wrapped my 3rd rice paper, the waitress came over and took it from me. Apparently I was not wrapping it properly and needed another tutorial.
P- I know. I don't know why she thinks it's ok to keep doing that. It's a whole different world.
G- This is the best food we've eaten in Vietnam.
P- Yes. I love this. Do you like it better than the place in Saigon?
G- Maybe so, but it's very different even though it's the same dish.
Stuffed like 2 ticks on a hound dogs ass, we waddled down to the cobbler's store. On the way we passed
the restaurant where we had eaten lunch the prior day and saw the girl who had recommended Bale Well. Conspiratorially we whispered that we had eaten lunch there, LOVED it, and we thanked her for the recommendation.
The lady at the shoe store asked us to sit as our boots were on the way.
P- (quietly to me) Why are they on the way here if her husband makes them in the back of the store?
G- We knew that was bullshit when she said it.
P- Look, they're being delivered by 2 different motorcycle drivers. They mustn't have even been made at the same place.
We tried on the shoes. Well, Phyl was able to get hers on, but they were too tight. Also, the boots had no tabs on the back. I couldn't even squeeze my feet into my shoes, and the lining was not what I had ordered.
Lady – Ok. What you think?
P- Mine are missing the tabs and they're too tight.
Lady- Ok, no problem. We fix.
G- As you can see, I can't even get mine on my feet and the lining is wrong.
Lady- We fix. No problem. Change lining.
G- This lining isn't what I ordered, but it might be ok. Phyl, feel this. What do you think?
P- I think that's good. Is it leather?
G- It feels like it.
P- That should be warm.
Lady – Yes. Warm.
G- Ok, this lining is ok, but they are way too small.
Lady – You leave tomorrow?
G- We've decided to stay another day, so we'll come back here tomorrow.
Lady – Ok. 3:00.
G & P – Ok.
G- I wish I hadn't had these boots made. It sounds like such a good idea, but it's a pain in the ass.
P- I agree, but I think they'll turn out ok when they're finished. I liked mine.
G- The thing that pisses me off is that she was ignoring me when I was telling her that mine needed to be bigger than she had drawn and just as we told her, both of them are too tight.
P- You'd think she'd know what to do.
G- It seems like a stupid business practice to make the shoes too tight from the start and have to go back and stretch them. Why not just make them right the first time?
P- I wish we hadn't done this. I hope they turn out alright.
G- This whole industry in Hoi An seems like it's just a tourist gimmick more than it is a way to get quality clothes and shoes made at cheap prices.
We spent the afternoon walking along both banks of the river, finally sitting at a cafe in the early evening for beer, people watching & dinner.
P- I am not believing what I am seeing!
P- Look into the motorcycle parking lot across the street.
G- OMG!
P- That little boy is shitting onto a piece of paper that his mother is holding under his ass.
G- Why didn't she take him near the river or at least point his ass toward the river instead of the street for all the restaurant patrons and passers by to see?
P- Why not just run him into a place with a bathroom?
G- Maybe there was not time for that. How old do you think he is?
P- Maybe 3 or 4.
G- Oh, he's finished. I guess she just threw the shit paper into the river.
P- Yes! That is exactly what she did! Now she's pulling more paper out of her notebook to wipe him.
G- Ouch! That has to hurt. Loose leaf paper is not know for being soft, and she's being very rough.
P- She looks pissed.
G- Now he's crying. Poor little thing.
P- You would be crying too if someone just wiped your ass with notebook paper!
We looked to our right at the faces of the western couple sitting at the table next to us. Their eyes were wide and they had looks of horror on their faces. They looked our direction and we had a conversation with our eyes.
G- Who's ready for dinner?
 |
| Juan & Claudi |
We decided to go into the restaurant for dinner and forego the entertainment provided for the street tables. I ate pasta with a fresh tomato and basil sauce and a glass of Da Lat wine. Phyl had a shrimp pasta and a glass of wine. The owner noticed us admiring the large photographs on his walls and told us that one of the photos was his wedding procession. It was a sepia print, taken 30 years ago, before the bridge was rebuilt. The procession was almost as long as the bridge, lead by children carrying long flags, followed by family members in special wedding robes, and finally the bride and groom, followed only by the man who officiated the wedding (we were not sure if it was a Buddhist Monk or who). We loved the photo and appreciated it even more now that we knew the occasion and that it was very personal to the restaurant owners.
After dinner we walked to White Sail where we spent a few hours before bed. There we met a couple named Juan and Claudie, from Puerto Rico, who had lived in L.A. for many years while in school. Juan took beautiful photographs and we discussed our blogs. They had also quit their jobs and were on a year long trip. Having already been to India, they gave us many tips that didn't necessarily make us feel warm & fuzzy about going there.
White Sail had recently opened and the owner was eager to have his restaurant stand out in a crowded field. Claudie had gone to the market and was teaching him to make guacamole while we chatted with Juan. We realized that we were staying at the same hotel when Phyl told Juan the story of Richard & Bitch. They had also heard the same argument and we laughed about it and talked about the way the stress of travel can break many relationships. Fortunately for us, and for Juan & Claudie, it brought us even closer rather than cause us to turn on each other. We decided it was because we had both been together for so long before setting off on our odysseys.
