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Published: March 19th 2014
It's hard to believe that we've been ensconced in our little rental house in Hội An for almost 3 weeks. In that time we have affirmed to ourselves that we are, indeed, "city folk". After we sold the house in Vancouver we toyed with the idea of leaving the noise and pollution of the city but we've been reminded of just how nice it is to have markets, restaurants and shops within walking distance. Recently we found ourselves admitting sheepishly to each other that we're happy to be back in the middle of the bustle and craziness.
The soundtrack of Hội An is a chorus of horns. Walking is like navigating an obstacle course, and sidewalks are definitely not a safe zone. If someone needs to get around a truck, or traffic jam they will just jump the curb and barrel down the sidewalk. Every curb has concrete ramps every few feet so scooters can easily park directly in front of a store. Restaurants are set up in front of shops, their tents extending to the street and often beyond. You get used to skirting makeshift kitchens and pails of water for washing dishes.
In addition to the background
of horns street food vendors loudly hawk their wares. Anyone that can cook something sets up shop and finds a way to deliver her delicacies to the public: everything from scooter and bicycle vendors to stalls on the street to carts to women selling out of baskets of food balanced on each end of a pole that they carry over a shoulder. Bánh bao (little steamed buns stuffed with pork meat and an egg) sellers blast a recorded voice from their carts "Bánh bao, Bánh bao, Bánh bao!" as they wheel through neighbourhoods. Almost every street corner has an elderly woman crouched on the curb over a BBQ turning skewers of pork and chicken or deep frying sweet potato and coconut cakes or banana fritters.
On top of this layer of aural colour are the karaoke bars and the TVs. Haphazard karaoke clubs pop up every few blocks and people belt out their favourites at all hours of the day. Last Sunday as we were having tea on the verandah we heard one start up at 8AM.
Most of the houses here are tall skinny affairs with a very small footprint on the actual ground. The front doors
are left open and the family seems to live in this front room and in the courtyard for the majority of the day. This is where they eat, worship their ancestors, and hang out together, clearly visible and audible to anyone walking by. At night the family gathers to watch TV which adds the final symphonic touch. Every TV in Hội An seems to be set to full blast.
Luckily for us the little wooden house we rent is off of a main street, along a little sand path, and is set quite far back. Our neighbours to the left face the side street and block most of the traffic noise (though we do hear their TV at night) and there is an empty lot on our right where another neighbour lets his chickens hang out and take dust baths. Other occupants of our sandy lane include an elderly bonsai artist that invited us in one day to admire his amazing creations, and quiet farmers. We are a few blocks from the rice paddies and the Thu Bồn river and about a 20 minute walk from the historic downtown; the beaches are each a 5km bike ride away. We
are perfectly situated for privacy and convenience. 5 minutes to the local market and bakery, and only 2 minutes to the bus station for quick trips to Đà Nẵng. We are able to get almost everything we need except books - how I wish I'd heeded everyone's advice and gotten an e-book reader! I'm a big enough person, I'll admit it, I was WRONG!
When we first corresponded with our landlord, Mr. Tuyen, he told us the house design was based on the traditional wooden houses from this area. After visiting some of the 200+ year old houses in historic downtown we definitely see the similarities. The large hardwood posts set on marble bases (to protect the wood from the annual flooding of the nearby river) and the Japanese style tiled roof evoke an earlier time. There is a little covered raised verandah out front from which we can survey the garden of bonsai plants and the two Japanese style ponds in our yard. The verandah is big enough for two tables with chairs, one on either side of the wooden front doors. We follow the shade and have tea and breakfast at one and lunch at the other.
Our Street
With local trafficBoth tables overlook the garden, the wooden gate, and beyond that the bonsai lined driveway that leads to the sandy lane where scooters and bikes go up and down all day long.
Garbage is sorted into organics, recyclables, burnables, and everything else. We are responsible for burning our own leaves and such but everything else is collected weekly. The garbage truck plays a tune similar to an ice cream truck back home that lets everyone know it is coming so people can rush out and leave their bags on the curb. Electricity and Internet is billed monthly. The company representatives come to your gate and you can pay them directly or if you don't have the money handy, make a trip later to the office. These both work out to a few dollars a month. Our 20 litre bottles of water are delivered by scooter. Two bottles cost $1, delivery with a smile included.
We tried out a few different stalls at the market before finding the family we now deal with for our weekly fruit and vegetable requirements. The prices are fair and their produce and tofu is the freshest. There is something so comforting about building
a support system of bakers, shop owners and farmers we trust.
At first, the amount of money we should pay for goods was difficult to figure out. Tourists are the number one industry in Hội An and people here are aware that a lot of Westerners are uncomfortable bartering, so they quote high prices for absolutely everything and we see a lot of tourists pay without question. After researching it a little bit and talking to people we learned that the going wisdom is expect to pay about 50% of what is quoted and even then, you are paying a lot more as a foreigner than a Vietnamese person would pay. The first few weeks I carried a little notebook and wrote down the prices quoted everywhere and what we paid for each piece of fruit so I could compare.
It was something to learn: how to barter fairly and well. I am not used to it at all and even felt squeamish when I started. In this part of the world, we are considered rich. So the thought of squeezing someone that makes so much less than I do upsets me. That said, the people of Hội
An make a very good living from tourists, and the cost of living here is much lower than in Canada. And the reality is we are
not rich, and don't want to pay more for something than is fair. So now when someone quotes me an exorbitant price I just laugh, and without fail they laugh too. After that they ask what I want to pay and the dance begins. It also helps that we live here. As people recognize us the starting prices get lower and lower, they know we're starting to understand the game.
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Joe Steyn
non-member comment
Hibiscus and Dragonflies
Hi guys thanks for sharing these lovely photos - they bring back many pleasant childhood memories. I remain jealous of your endeavours, so enjoy. I have just spent a week in Santa Barbara and realized how I miss the heat of the Sun. Here it is still cold and wet, but a swim is planned at Heather's on Gabriola this weekend. I can't go as I allowed work to get backlogged - too much Sun. Enjoy - Joe