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.

Paper Trained

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

6 fried spring rolls
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.

G- (quietly to Phyl after the waitress had gone away) Ok, I appreciated the first tutorial, now leave me the hell alone and let me eat my food the way I want to. I hate having my food touched.

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.

G- This is going to turn out bad.

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.

We walked toward the river. Thus far, all of our time in Hoi An had been spent dealing with tailors and cobblers and we actually wanted to see the town.

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!

G- What?

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.

You, I Do For Free

It was nice to be able to sleep late without interruption by Richard and Bitch. Finding a cobbler was the task of the day, as well as a return to the tailor for a fitting. As we walked out of our hotel, the woman across the street started yelling to us, “Hey! Hey! Rent bike.” Generally we ignore people who yell at us as we exit our hotel, and it happens all the time, but we decided that we did want to rent bikes instead of walking the mile to the tailor. Each bike cost us about $1.00 for the day, and gave our feet a break.

We peddled off to the tailor, dodging pedestrians and motorcycles that do not stop at cross streets. Fortunately, Phyl's 3 shirts fit her perfectly, requiring no additional alterations. Well past lunchtime, we stopped at a restaurant on our way to the cobbler. We were outside of the main tourist area and only 1 couple was eating at this restaurant.

P- We'd like 2 Saigon beers and a margarita pizza.

Waitress – Sorry, no pizza.

G- Ok, how about the pasta?

Waitress – Sorry. We don't have that either.

P- Can you tell us what you do have?

Waitress – We can make you basic dishes. Our cook is about to have a baby very soon and cannot cook complicated dishes. Can you order something from this page.

G- Um, ok. Can you give us a minute to decide? (after waitress walks off) WTF?

P- What are they going to do when the cook has the baby and cannot cook? Will the restaurant be closed?

G- I have no idea. Ha! It's the strangest thing to have a restaurant open but the customers can't order anything.



Not THE bed, but one just like it.

 P- Do you want to go somewhere else?

G- No, we've already started drinking our beers. Let's just order something simple. How about the grilled vegetables.

P- I guess we're eating white rice whether we want to or not.

G- You need it. We haven't eaten any since last night. I think the shakes from the withdrawals should start soon.


P- I was hoping to have a rice free lunch. Ok. Get the grilled vegetables & rice.

After lunch I went to use the bathroom, requiring me to walk through the restaurant section and into the home of the owners. The poor cook was in a room, lying down on the typical low, wooden bed, covered only with a woven mat, no mattress. She was enormously pregnant. No wonder the poor woman can only cook simple things. The other room, probably the family room or den, contained a small TV and another wooden bed. The bathroom, clearly the family's only bathroom, was narrow and about 8 feet long with the toilet at one end, a shower head in the middle and a sink on the far end. On the wall next to the sink was a plastic shelf holding shampoo, body wash, toothpaste and toothbrushes.

It felt strange to be inside the restaurant owners' private home and bathroom and I wonder how they felt about customers parading through their private space. It is, of course, common, and this is the norm across Southeast Asia where the lines between public/business space and private space is blurred. Still, I felt a wave of sadness.

When I returned to the table, Phyl was talking to the waitress. Phyl was telling her that prices in Hoi An were higher than we expected. She told us that tourism had increased prices, creating difficulty for the locals because wages had not kept pace with the increasing prices. She said that menu prices had increased twice in the last few months, but her salary had not increased. She lived about 5 kilometers outside the city where prices were a little cheaper, but still on the rise. We told her about the Vietnamese pancakes we had eaten in Saigon and asked her if she knew of a place in Hoi An where we could get them; a place where locals eat. She gave us a recommendation named Balle Well and put an X, on our city map, telling us it was down an alley and difficult to find.

We rode our bikes one more block to the cobbler that had been recommended by our tailor. The tailor had called ahead so we were expected. As we looked around the shop, the lady told us that her husband makes the shoes and also works for a very expensive shoe store in the middle of the city. We showed her what we wanted, making subtle changes to her samples, then selected the leather, soles, and heels. A price of $25.00 per pair was negotiated, and the shoes were to be ready in 2 days.

She took out a piece of paper, placed Phyl's foot on it, and traced around her foot like a child would trace around a hand to draw a Thanksgiving turkey. She took a few measurements, made notes around the outline of Phyl's foot, then did the same with the other foot. My feet were done next.

G- (to the lady) The shoe will be much wider than this, right? I don't like tight shoes.

Lady – Yeah, yeah.

G- (pointing to the outline of my foot) I want the shoe to be at least this wide. We're going to be wearing thick socks.

Lady – Yeah, yeah.

P- Let's go over the materials one more time. I want this style, with this heel, this leather, a zipper on the side, and tabs on the back.

Lady – Yeah, yeah.

G- And I want this style, with this heel, this leather, also a zipper on the side and tabs on the back. Be sure that it is lined on the inside, like this boot.

Lady – Yeah, yeah. You pay half now. You come back tomorrow after 4:00 pm.

G & P – Ok.

We rode away on our bikes talking about the cobbler.

G- I'm very disconcerted.

P- I hate that we just have to hope that she has everything right because we cannot read what she has written down.

G- I hate the way we are always patronized. I hate being told 'yeah, yeah'.

P- Me too. It's like she's telling us, “Yeah, I got it, just shut up.”

G- Exactly! I'm sick of 'yeah, yeah', then being ignored. I do not want my shoes to be tight. I wish we could just tell her the size we wear and have them make the size we wear.

P- I guess they know what they're doing since they make shoes.

G- I hope so, but we can't be sure they do a good job.

When we reached the big market, we stopped to decide what to do next. As we talked, hawkers called to us to buy little figurines, flowers, boiled peanuts, water, cigarettes, and t-shirts. We ignored them until one woman asked if we wanted foot massages.

P- I could use a foot massage.

Lady – Yes. Foot massage. Come this way.

P- How much?

Lady – 5 dolla.

P- $2.00.

Lady – 4 dolla.

P- $3.00.

Lady – No. 4 dolla.

P- Never mind. (to me) Let's go have a beer. (We began talking about going to White Sail.)

Lady – Ok, ok. 3 dolla.

We locked up our bikes and followed her into the maze of paths that wound through the market.

Lady – You sit. (pointing to 2 little plastic chairs)

G- Is there a toilet around here? Also, maybe a place to buy 2 beers?

Lady – Yes. (to Phyl) You sit here.

She lead me to the toilet used by the market workers. Revolting would be a good adjective, but I had been in Asia long enough not to be phased by disgusting toilets. Hell, I have certainly been in my fair share of revolting toilets in America, and now I even preferred the squat public toilets. As usual, I was extremely careful to not to touch anything. She was waiting outside when I exited and took me to a woman with 2 cold beers in a styrofoam cooler. The beer woman even wiped off the tops of the cans with some 'Asian' paper towels (really tissues).

We walked back to Phyl and I sat on the other little chair as the lady called 2 more women. One began massaging Phyl's feet, while the other one began massaging mine. My masseuse totally sucked, so I was glad to only be paying $3.00. The main lady inspected the hair on my legs.

G- I know. My legs need to be shaved, but I want to pull the hair out with thread and just haven't had the chance. I had it done in Cambodia.

Lady – I do for you.

G- Ugh! This was supposed to be enjoyable, now I'm going to have my hairs ripped out?

P- Do it.

G- Oh yeah? Your mustache could use attention too.

P- No way.

Lady – Yes. Do your legs and your mustache, 10 dolla.

G- 10 dolla? No way.

We negotiated some more and settled on a price of $12.00 for everything, including the foot massages.

Phyl's foot massage continued, but mine ended abruptly and the ring leader lady and the crappy foot massage lady began yanking the hairs out of my legs. Damn! I wish I had an ice chest of beer. When they had finished the fronts of my legs, I shifted in my chair so they could do the sides, but as they worked their way around to the back of my legs, they began to twist me as though my hips were like owl necks.

G- Hey! I don't bend like that. Give me your stool and take my chair.

For a change, I was giving instructions. I stood on the stool and faced the other way.

G- Now. You don't have to hunch over and I don't have to be twisted like a pretzel.

Main Lady – Good idea.

P- She's the idea girl.

The hair pulling resumed and we continued our discussion about our trip, our thoughts on Vietnam, our home, and how the ladies were related. They were cousins, and a crazy trio. We knew they were talking about us and they were cracking themselves up. We always wished we knew what people were saying, but maybe it's better not to know. At some point it became apparent that they were talking about Phyl's boobs. Phyl & I looked at each other and raised an eyebrow.

G- Amazing, aren’t' they.

The women looked a little startled that we knew what they were talking about, but then laughed and shook their heads, yes.

P- Asian women, especially Vietnamese women, seem to be very fascinated by my breasts. I even had a Vietnamese woman touch them as I was walking on the beach in Nha Trang.

Main Lady – Vietnamese women want big boobs.

P- You don't want them. They're very heavy. Even if you do want them, what made that woman think it was ok to touch them?

Main Lady – She just likes them. Yes. We want them.

P- I don't care how much she liked them or how much you want them, it's not ok to touch them.

Phyl's masseuse was eying them like one might eye melons at the grocery, trying to decide which one to squeeze for ripeness. After the beach incident, I was ready to intercept her hand if she reached out to cop a feel. I eyed her suspiciously. Phyl also had her left arm up in a somewhat defensive position.


One of the other ladies said something to the ring leader, then they laughed.

Main Lady – She said she give you boob massage.

P- No! But if I did, I guess that would cost me a fortune. (pointing at me) $2.00 for her and $20.00 for me.

Phyl's masseuse – (Who hadn't spoken any English until now.) 10 dolla for her (pointing at me) you for free.

G- No boob massages.

P- Don't any of you touch my boobs!

As my legs were being finished, Ms. I'll-massage-your-boobs-for-free yanked out Phyl's mustache. We rode our bikes to White Sail where we had beer and dinner.

Richard & Bitch

Hoi An, an adorable town of about 100,000 people, was virtually the only city in Vietnam to escape destruction during the war.  The town is a few miles from the beach and sits on a river; 400 years ago it was a major international trading port.  Today, the city has a completely intact old quarter which looked very French and reminded us of the New Orleans' French Quarter. We met a French couple one day at lunch and we asked them if they thought Hoi An looked French. The guy said that he lives in a home in Normandy that looks just like the homes in Hoi An. They could not get over how French it looked.


Many of our hotel's rooms have large windows that open into a very narrow space, I'll call it a courtyard, but it's not really because you cannot walk into it. The hotel was fairly quiet, but sound carried through this narrow space. We were awakened to the following screaming match echoing throughout the narrow space.

Richard – Bitch! Stop asking me questions while I'm trying to figure out where we go next.

Bitch – Richard, stop calling me a bitch.

Richard – Shut up, bitch.

Bitch – Richard, you're an asshole. Stop being so mean to me.

Richard – Fuck you, bitch! All you do is whine while I have to plan everything.

Bitch – I'm not whining, I'm just asking you questions. Just answer my questions.

Richard – Shut up, bitch.

Bitch – Fuck you!

Richard – No fuck you!

US & other guests (simultaneously) – Shut up!!!!!

Finally, Richard & Bitch shut the hell up. We envisioned them to be late teens or early 20's. As we left the hotel, we thought we spotted them.

G- Look at those 2 sitting with their bags between them and the very angry faces. You think that's Richard & Bitch?

P- Maybe so, but they look late 20's or early 30's. I expected them to be younger.

G- Me too. I guess they're just having a meltdown. I wonder how long they've been traveling.

P- I'm happy they seem to be checking out. I don't want a repeat of this morning's fight.

G- Amen to that.

We ate lunch, then walked around the city, checking out our options for tailors and cobblers. Hoi An is known as the place to have clothes and shoes made in a short amount of time. We had planned to have Gina's mom ship our winter clothes to us, but after on line research revealed it would cost $300.00 - $400.00 to have this done, we decided it would be cheaper, and easier, to buy or have a few winter things made. It is unfortunate that Hoi An has become the Mecca for tailors and cobblers because this has created a situation where every other shop is either a tailor or a shoe shop, all offering exactly the same things.

G- I have no idea how any of these stores make any money. There are just too many of them.

P- It's just like Bali, every stores sells one of 3 things. It seems like the store that would do something different would get a lot of business.

G- If we were on a short vacation and could take the clothes back home, maybe we'd like to have something nice made, but we don't even have jobs when we go back home, so we don't need anything.

P- And we never got dressed up for work anyway.

G- Look at the coats that store has on the manikin. Every single tailor shop has the same coats.

P- They're cute.

G- They might be cute, but where would that be in style? In London, 30 years ago? No one really wears anything like that anymore.

P- I love that pea coat or the tweed.

G- I like it too, but it would be a 3rd or 4th coat that you wouldn't wear often. I'm just saying, who orders coats like that? Maybe if one shop would offer different coats, something more current for today's styles, they'd set themselves apart and make more money.

P- You know we have not seen anything like that since we've been in Asia. Everyone just does everything the same.

G- I know. I guess that's just one of the things that sets America apart; businesses try to set themselves apart, not just be the same as everyone else. And, had it never dawned on these shop owners to ask tourists what kinds of things they want to buy?

P- I guess not, because all across Southeast Asia all we have seen is Same Same.

We finally settled on Tan-Tan Tailor because the wife worked the sales and the husband sewed the clothes in the back of the store. In many, probably most, shops, the orders are taken and the measurements are sent to someone outside of the store who actually does the sewing. We wanted the actual tailor to be in house and to take the measurements himself.

Phyllis loved the simple, cotton shirt Laurie had given her in Ubud and wanted to have it duplicated.

She selected 3 bright colored, light cotton fabrics, and left the original shirt with the tailor We discussed having my 1 pair of cargo pants duplicated, but it was going to cost $30.00, would take a few days, and because it was an unusual request, we worried that the fit would not be right. We had planned to have a coat made for Phyl, but for the same reasons, and the fact that they did not have fabrics to make light coats, we also scrapped that idea.

G- I'm really disappointed by this turn of events. I guess I thought we'd be able to have anything we wanted made here, but the reality is that you can have the kinds of things that they are accustomed to making, but not whatever you want.

P- You can have other things made, it just takes much longer and it seems like they try to talk you out of having it done and push you to having a suit or shirt or dress done.

G- I don't want a suit or shirt or dress. I want cargo pants just like the ones I have.

P- Well, you can't have that. You know I hate shopping and that's all we've been doing all afternoon. I'm done shopping! It's beer o'clock. Let's go back to White Sail Cafe.

Chicken & Pickin'

 3:30 AM

P- Are you awake?

G- Yes. I can't go back to sleep.

P- Me either. What is wrong with us?

G- I don't know, but I'm not happy.

At 4:00 AM we got up, drank some coffee, and got ready at a leisurely pace.

P- When we booked this 5:30 AM train trip, I was afraid of unhappy, early morning Gina, but I like the Gina who has been awake for hours and is happy.

G- I'm not happy to have been unable to sleep, but it was a good morning for it.

P- I never see happy morning Gina.

G- Soak it all in, baby, because this is like one of those eclipses that only happens once every hundred years. You're unlikely to see it again in your lifetime.

P- I know. I know.

At 4:30 the poor guesthouse owner called with our wake up call. We confirmed that he was calling a taxi at 5:00AM. At 5:00 AM we walked downstairs, as quietly as possible, while he opened the large metal doors, a noise that could be heard for miles. The taxi pulled up a minute later and we were off to the train station.

G- Well, now we know why we never see any Asians out jogging; they do it at 5:00 AM.

P- I can't get over the number of people out here running and walking.

G- I know it's a familiar refrain, but thank Gawd I was not born Asian. I would have hated my life.

P- No, you would have just been a morning person.

G- Not possible. I'm genetically, biologically hard wired to be a night person.

P- Whatever.

When we arrived at the station, the lobby was already full of people and ladies were already circulating through the crowd trying to sell baguettes, water, fruit, and newspapers. The newspapers lady stood in front of us, for the longest time, waiving the paper in our faces.

P- You know this woman knows we can't read Vietnamese. Why in the hell does she think we'd want to buy that newspaper?

G- I have no idea. Maybe she's telling you there is no toilet paper on the train and you should buy the newspaper to use it as toilet paper.

P- That's about all it would be good for.

G- Look. It's that Dutch couple with the baby. The ones we saw buying tickets yesterday.

P- Oh, Typhoid Mary and the feverish kid?

G- Yes. I hope they're not sitting near us because I don't want to catch whatever they have.

(to the Dutch couple) Hi. How's your little girl feeling today?

Dutch Man – Much better. Her fever is gone.

G & P – That's good.

P- (whispers to me) Typhoid Mary still sounds like she's trying to cough up a lung.

I hate getting up in the wee hours of the morning, but once awake, I love the morning and seeing the sun rise. The train followed the coastline on our right and a mountain range on our left. The sunrise, over the rice fields, between us and the sea was positively gorgeous!!! The rice fields were lush and green, the sky bright orange.  We rode along enjoying all the beauty of the Vietnamese countryside. We passed a group of kids playing badminton in a field behind a little village. It was 6:30 AM. Badminton at 6:30 in the morning!!!! The quiet, however, was short lived. At 7:00 AM, the TV in the train was turned on, the volume at typical Asian, glass shattering, decibel levels.

G- My gawd!!! Can't we just ride in peace and enjoy the beauty? Why do we have to be subjected to this noise?

P- I will never have an explanation for it. No one is even watching it.

G- Why does it have to be so damn loud?! I hate it.

P- Me too. What is it? It's kind've creepy the way the little girls are dressed up like tramps, rapping, and dancing behind that guy. I've never seen an Asian rapper, and wearing a suit. Ha!

G- It looks like one of those child beauty contests, with singing. I think they're supposed to look like fairies.

P- Yes, very Jon Bonet Ramseyish. And if I have to see that damn milk commercial with that laughing cow one more time, I'm going to scream.

G- Why is it necessary to have entertainment at 7:00 AM?

P- Just wait. The rice and vegetable cart will come around soon to serve breakfast.

We laughed, but at 7:30 AM, that is exactly what happened. The food cart came into our train car, with a smell we find horrifying at that time of morning, and damn near every person bought a container of white rice and whatever else it was.

G- OMG! Look at the food cart woman!!! She is picking her nose!!

P- That is totally disgusting. She's not even trying to be discrete, she's just pickin away like she's in the
privacy of her home.

G- She looks like she needs some heavy equipment to perform an excavation.

P- What's she gonna do with it once she gets it? 

G- I can't think about that.

P- I can't believe the people are going to continue to buy food from her.  This is positively revolting?  Nasty bitch!!!

G- There you go, we just learned something good about plain, white rice. You'd be able to see it if the food cart lady puts her booger in it.

The woman behind us began feeding her toddler some kind of noodle porridge. Blech!!

G- Look at those round boats!!!

P- How can those people paddle them without going in circles?

G- I remember seeing them on Amazing Race!!!! Do you remember them?

P- You know I'm not going to remember them.

G- Remember that young boy with the big, blondish, afro looking hair? He was racing with his girlfriend who was a total high maintenance bitch. She whined and bitched at him constantly and we wanted him to kill her, but he just quietly plodded along and ended up winning the race. One of the challenges was for them to row that round boat across the water to pick up the next clue, or something like that. I distinctly remember those round boats. I wonder if they were right here for that challenge. Remind me to Google it.

P- I vaguely remember the couple, but I can't remember those boats or the challenge.

We tried to focus on the beautiful scenery and not the horrible, cat screeching sounds coming from the TV. The train passed through tunnel after tunnel, with each exit offering a new gift of beautiful mountains, beaches, rocky cliffs, or the sea.  At lunchtime the food cart came by again and we bought white rice, with a scoop of vegetables, and 4 chicken skewers. It was pretty good for train food. The older lady sitting next to us smiled and seemed pleased that we were eating the same thing as them, and eating it with chopsticks! We have become quite adept at eating with chopsticks.

P- When you go to the bathroom, look on the floor in the section where the 2 train cars connect.

G- Why? What's there?

P- 4 chickens, or roosters, I'm not sure, in 2 baskets.

G- Well, people at home travel with their dogs. I guess when you travel in Vietnam your foul can travel with you.

After she finished lunch, the older lady began talking to the man in front of her. Sometimes she'd just lean back in her chair and talk, sometimes she'd lean forward and talk through the chair and sometimes she'd squeeze her face between the chairs and talk. Every once in a while he'd respond, but most of the time he just sat there with his eyes closed.

P- That woman has not come up for a breath in hours.

G- At first I thought he didn't know her, but now I think he may be her husband.

P- The poor bastard!

G- She's Gladys Kravitz and he's poor Abner.

P- What could she be talking about for so long without a break?

G- I don't know, but it seems he's accustomed to the assault.

After lunch the Dutch man and the little girl walked by. On their way back he sat, with his daughter on his lap, in the empty seat, next to the older lady, and chatted with us. While we talked, the older lady stared at the little girl's blonde hair. She was a toe head. I guess when she hit the point when she could no longer restrain herself, she reached around and began grabbing the little girl's hair; not pulling it, exactly, but definitely rougher than one would expect. The little girl whimpered and pulled away, and the father slapped the older woman's hand and told her NO.

Dutch man – We have this problem often. Many people grab her hair.

P- Well I'm having the problem of women grabbing my breasts.

Dutch man – What? Really!?

P- Yes.

Dutch man – (Mouth gaped open and speechless.)

The train ride was about 8.5 hours to DaNang, the town, with the train station, about 30 kilometers from Hoi An. After an ordeal exiting the train – the people getting on the train won't wait long enough to let you off, so you have to fight your way off the train, while they block your path. It's insane, but apparently common practice, and the railroad employees make no effort to make them wait for you to disembark before allowing them on. Crazy! We exited the station and debated the best way to get to Hoi An while 10 taxi drivers yapped in our ears, and squabbled with each other. The motorcycles were going to be 100,000 Dong each, and the taxi driver said he could take us, on the meter, for about 300,000 Dong.

G- Damn it to hell! Look at that meter. There is no way we're getting to Hoi An for 300,000 Dong.

P- Lied to again. Surprise, surprise.

G- We should have taken the motorcycles. We learned that lesson already. Why did we let our guards down?

P- Because we're stupid and sometimes we forget.

G- Damn!!!

By the time the taxi dropped us off at the address we had provided, it cost us $20.00, an enormous sum for a taxi ride in Asia, on a backpackers budget. We were very angry with ourselves and we didn't even stay at the hotel because it was too expensive. We set off on foot and after stopping for directions 2 times, finally located a street lined with hotels. Phyl checked them out while I sat with the bags. We finally settled on a room, for $15.00 per night, which was small, but had everything we needed.

It was late in the afternoon, so we went in search of a snack and cold beer. Travel days are exhausting even when most of the day is spent sitting on a bus or train. Fortunately, we found a great little restaurant, with free wifi, called White Sail, just around the corner from our hotel. Jackpot!!