Stop Teaching Me How to Eat!!!

Returning to the river, we ate an early lunch, more Vietnamese pancakes, along the river, where we also waited out an afternoon rain shower. We then purchased a ticket to a Hoi An walking tour that gained us entry into 5 homes or historical buildings.

G- This town is adorable and I still can't get over how much it reminds me of the French Quarter.

P- It is precious and has such a quaint feel to it.

G- Which places do you want to tour?

P- Help me decide.

G- No, you read about them last night while I was blogging and you're the one who loves to tour old homes, so you pick the ones you want.

Our first stop was to Tan Ky House. Built by a Chinese merchant, it was long and narrow, and ran from one street to another. The walls were teak, the floor old tiles, and it had been in the family for 7 generations. It had a center courtyard open to the sky, but contained several small rooms. The ceilings were supported by carved beams in 2 levels. The first, 3 lines, represented God, man & earth. The second, five lines, represented the 5 elements. The living area contained black furniture inlaid with mother of pearl. We were given a short explanation of the house and its owners, and served tea in the living area. In the space between the bedroom & kitchen, lines and dates indicated the flood levels reached in the home during each of the major floods for the past 100 years. We were told that the water comes in and goes out within a matter of days. During the flooded times, the family moves the furniture upstairs.

Our second stop was built by a wealthy Vietnamese family, it was very similar to the Chinese merchant's home, being long and narrow, but it was an open space to allow the breeze to flow through, and the center courtyard was much larger. We were told that the Chinese had come from the north where there is a cooler climate, thus their homes were broken up into small rooms, whereas the Vietnamese man was accustomed to the hot temperatures and designed their homes to maximize airflow. This concept reminded us of shotgun homes in New Orleans.

The third home, House of Quan Thang, was old, but similar to the first 2. It belonged to an apothecary and the 2 rooms across the front were lined with glass front boxes, and had large windows that opened to the street. In the rear of this home was a long, low table that also functioned as a bed. Families still lived in all of these homes and in this one, an older lady was preparing dinner in the modern, by Vietnamese standards, kitchen.



Our fourth choice was used at the Cultural & Heritage...... where we watched a performance of 5 people on traditional Vietnamese instruments, 2 women singing, and a trio doing a silly dance performance with baskets. We were amazed by the number of tourists who video taped the performance.

P- Why are so many people taping this? When are they ever going to watch it again?

G- It's fine to watch one time, but I wouldn't want to see it twice.

P- They'll never watch it again.

G- Maybe once home, they'll force their families and/or friends to sit through it, but it's really one of those things where you had to be there to get it.

P- I liked the instruments, but the 2 women's screeching was wearing on my nerves.

G- The little basket dance was cute.

Our final option was spent in the Museum holding historical objects found in Hoi An. It took about 5 minutes to see everything in the one room museum and was poor by anyone's standards. After the museum we strolled around the market. The exterior was surrounded by women selling, primarily yellow flowers. There was a pastry cart where we purchased a doughnut and a woman cooking the little Vietnamese style quiches, like the kind we ate in Saigon.

We returned to the cobbler to find that Phyl's boots fit, but mine were still too tight. As we were leaving the next day at 12:30 pm, the lady promised to deliver my shoes to our hotel by 10:00 am.

G- Son of a bitch! If I wanted shoes that fit like a glove I would have purchased those strange rubber sole shoes that fit your individual toes. You know the ones I mean?

P- Yes. Those are the stupidest shoes I've ever seen. Can they really even be called shoes? They're more like socks.

G- I don't know, but I'm getting boots that are like leather mittens. That damn woman, telling me yeah, yeah when I tried to tell her to make my shoes larger. Maybe she should listen instead of saying yeah, yeah. Same, same. Yeah, yeah. I'm sick to death of hearing those ridiculously patronizing words.

P- Do you notice that they say them twice? It's like they're trying to convince you of their bullshit.

G- Well, I'm unconvinced that my boots are going to turn out ok.

P- Yeah, yeah. Me too.

G- But at least they're same, same. They're both too damn small!

G & P – Hahahahahaha.

We walked back along the river past the fish selling stalls..............not a good smell at the end of the day, and down the narrow lane of the produce sellers.

G- I love all of this fresh produce!

P- It's like our California farmers markets, but it's every day.

G- Everything is like a drive up grocery. If we lived here you'd call me at work and say, “on your way home pick up some basil, a fish, and some flowers because we're having company for dinner.” Then I'd just drive by the stalls on my way home, select what I want, and pay without ever having to get off my motorcycle. It's great.

P- Unless it's raining. What do they do when it rains? So far the weather has been clear all the time.

G- I don't know, but I'm sure they make accommodations and keep on going.

Balle Walle was so fabulous that we decided to eat there again. Of course the people recognized us, I doubt they get many middle aged westerners with shaved heads, and the waitress even remembered what we wanted to drink.  Beer!  She brought the food and gave us another tutorial on proper rice paper rolling, then stood just a few feet away from our table and watched us eat.

P- I wish she wouldn't stand there watching us eat. It's giving me the creeps.

G- I don't like it, but we get stared at and watched so much I've become immune to it.

P- At least she isn't trying to grope my breast.

G-True...that is something to be grateful for.

As I began to roll my next rice paper, she stepped up, snatched it from my hand, and began to shove lettuce and sprouts inside. I stopped her and took it back, smiling as sweetly as I could.

G- I know what to do now. Thank you for showing me, but I want to roll it like this.

She looked at me like I was crazy, but walked off.

G- (quietly through my clenched teeth) Stop touching my fucking food! I am forty fucking four years old!!! I think I know how to feed myself. I know they're just trying to be helpful, but we are not mentally deficient. I am sick to death of being told the simplest things like we are 2 year olds. It's as though, just because we don't speak their languages, all the people here seem to think we were born yesterday.  I've raised my own kid almost as old as that girl. I can eat my damn food by myself!! Augh!!!!


P- I know baby. I bitch about it all the time and you tell me to chill, that they're just trying to be nice.

G- I've had enough of it.

P- It's totally annoying. Is she still standing over my shoulder watching us?

G- Yes.  She's making sure we don't eat our food improperly.

We made it through the rest of dinner without additional tutorials and the waitress came and sat next to Phyl while we chatted about the restaurant. She was practically sitting on Phyl's lap and I was worried she might be headed for a breast attack when she finally moved over a little bit. We learned that it was run by one family and it's only closed for a couple of holidays a year. These items are the only things they serve, and they do serve them well. The grandmother brought out a large metal object and began slicing vegetables with it. It was something neither of us had ever seen and we asked our waitress what it was. She didn't know the English word for it, but brought it over for us to inspect, and showed us how easily it sliced the vegetables.

G- I love this thing.

P- Me too. We should get one.

G- Where can we buy one?

Waitress – In the market.

G- Can you write the name of it, in Vietnamese, so we can take the paper to the market?

Waitress – I can go buy you one on my motorcycle.

P- You would? How much do they cost?

Waitress – Maybe 40 or 50 Dong. I go fast.

G- Yes, ok. Thank you very much.

She zipped off and within 5 minutes was back with a plastic bag. No doubt she had just driven down the kitchen utensil lane and bought it from her motorcycle. It had cost 50 Dong and we were very excited to have it. As I pulled it out of the bag, we were both a little surprised, but didn't say anything until the waitress had walked off.

G- Well, I was expecting a shiny new one, not an old rusty one. Hahahaha!

P- Bwahahaha! I was expecting a new one too, but when you think about it, this old one is even cooler.

G- I wonder what stories it could tell.

P- That's what I was thinking. I wonder if it came from some old lady who died but had been cooking with it for years.

G- I wish we knew. I love the idea that it's old and has character. What a great, and useful, memento from our time in Hoi An.

The waitress returned with a vegetable for us to practice slicing on our new gadget. Sure enough, it still sliced like a charm.

We walked one final time along the river, enjoying the lights dancing on the water and watching people light and float candles down the river. We purchased gelato, which was actually pretty good, and ate it as we walked passed shops closing up for the evening. We randomly strolled down back alleys we hadn't previously walked and saw families eating dinner and watching television. In the yard of one home a father lit incense and said an evening prayer at a small alter. The child mimicked his father's bowing.

G- I'll never get use to seeing motorcycles parked in the living room.

P- That's why all of the houses are tiled.

G- And have a motorcycle ramp on one side of the steps.

P- I've still never seen a house with any furniture that looks remotely comfortable.

G- They're usually just sitting on the tile floor, so even a hard wooden chair is better than that.

P- It's just so different from America where our furniture is plush and soft and cushioned.

G- It's definitely a completely different lifestyle. I'm thankful for our comfortable furniture.

P- Me too. It's definitely one of the good things about being a spoiled American.

G- Soft beds too. Don't forget soft beds. Thank Gawd I had gotten fat before I came to Asia or my bones would be breaking from these hard beds.

P- Considering that most of them sleep on mats on top of wooden beds, they probably think the hotel beds are like sleeping on clouds.

G- I've never awakened every morning with my hips hurting before coming to Asia. It has to be the hard beds.

P- Come on, let's get back and pack and go to sleep in our hard bed.