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Published: April 10th 2007
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In stark contrast to our previous adventure by bus, the short four hour trip to Hoi An was a pleasure. We wound for hours along the coast and mountains, receiving views of beaches in one direction, and cloudy peaks in the other. We arrived feeling great.
Hoi An in a small town in South Viet Nam, famous for its old (world heritage status) centre, where traditional architecture is the style and tailoring is the business. In every business that isn't a bar, restaurant or souvenir shop, lurks a hopeful local, armed with tape measure and smile, keen to measure you up for a cheap (they really are cheap) suit. Despite the temptations of the James Bond look I passed, after all, it was powerful hot.
Our first proper day in town we rented bikes and rode the 4km to the beach. We looked like something out of one of those 1930s films where everythings slightly too fast - with no gears our legs had to peddle furiously just to move anywhere. The beach was stunning - hardly any people, golden sand for as far as you could see, palm trees lining one side for shade, and lovely warm
water. It would have been nearly perfect for it had not been for the army of sellers that patrolled nonstop, pestering you at every moment to buy their fruit/football/frisbee. Quiet slumbers were interupted by "you want MAAANNGOOO", "you want BANANAAAAA" in more of a statement of fact than a question. They were so pushy they would sit next to you and start piling the fruit on your belly. Nothing was worth buying as the prices were so high - several times what was at the market, but we all ended up with a small collection of fruit in a hope to end the torment. It didn't. Ross dived in the sea with his sunglasses - they came off instantly, lost forever to the Pacific. But hey ho -within five minutes a man appeared with a whole sales board of new frames to supply an instant replacement.
Sunburn. Is awful. Take four pasty British guys and expose them to the sun for the first time in nearly a year and the effects are terrible. Everywhere else previously we had been sheltered by the protective smog of the cities, or it had been overcast. Now was the sun's revenge, and mighty
it was. I suffered only minor burning, nothing that would hurt in more than a day. Having been burnt in the past I fled the sun in fear, as anyone at Barcelona with me can testify to. The others were not so fortunate. People in the streets oohed and ahhed. When Ross' initial layer of skin finally peeled away, it exposed a deeper layer, as red as the first. The next week was spent covering up from head to toe and applying the sun cream like it was some life giving wonder cream.
The next day, covered from head to toe (I dug out my long sleeve T shirt for its first, and as yet only use), Zander and I rented motorbikes. No forms to fill out, no deposit, no license required, no previous experience required, just the payment of 40,000 dong - the equivalent of one pound fifty. We rode around town for a few minutes, getting used to riding bikes for the first time and then we were off on our 120km round trip round the countryside (it was supposed to be 100km, but we got lost). After an initial setback of Zander falling off, grazing his
arm and bruising his leg we hit the open road - horn happy like the locals. We went to the ancient Cham ruins of My Son. We discovered that the ruins were largely intact until the late 60s when the American air force bombed the lot the flush out the Viet Cong. On the way back my engine cut out on a road in the middle of nowhere. I cruised it as far as possible and tried everything I could think of to restart the engine. The fuel gauge didn't read empty, but inspecting the tank proved otherwise. In a twist of luck so incredible it turned out that I had rolled to a stop only about 15m short of a small hut where petrol was being sold out of an oil drum with a traditional petrol pump. Saved!
Hoi An was also where we met Lydia, Hannah, Rosie and Louise. They had left nearly the same day as ourselves, gone overland by train to Russia, crossed Siberia on the train after ours, traveled across China and Vietnam until the point we met. They were also 19 and from nearby Chiswick. I mention this now since not only had
they come the same route as us, they were also continuing in the same fashion, and would pop up through our trip at nearly every stop for about the next 2000km. I found this incredible.
We left Hoi An burnt and took another 12 hour bus journey south to Nha Trang where further excitement awaited.
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