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Published: August 5th 2007
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It's been another long ride, not so long as the usual twelve hour ordeal, but long enough. Especially when a group of 20-somethings in the back row declare us as "the party bus" and blast Elton John tunes for six hours on end, only stopping to complain about how hot it is as they smoke cigarettes out the back windows. Definetly long enough.
We are greeted by a man from our pre-arranged hotel at a stop outside of Hoi An, only to be told to stay on the bus until the next stop. This way we can avoid all the promises of transport who will divert us to hotels other than the one we have already paid a deposit to. I hate travel days.
At the next stop we each ride solo with our backpacks on, clinging to our motobike drivers backs as they accelerate and brake through city streets. Hoi An is very tame by Vietnamese standards; no buiding is taller than three stories, traffic is light, and motos have plenty of room to manuever through intersections. We arrive at yet another wonderful hotel with all the perks, this time with a huge bathtub and restaurant overlooking a
pool. $18 a night goes quite a long way in this country.
Our first night out we spend wondering the streets by the river which have been cut off from all motor vehicles. It's eerie without traffic. Without all the people walking in and out of the restaurant and shophouses, Hoi An would seem like a ghost town. We get right down to business: salads with shrimp and mango, plates of cheeses, followed by hours of connect four and tall beers. When we arrive back to the hotel we are shocked to see a security guard sleeping under a mosquito net in front of the lobby doors. We had no idea it was so late.
The next day we dive right into what Hoi An is best known for - custom tailored clothes. Tracy and Suz both got winter jackets, pants and look for dresses. Ryan and I go through the process of getting measured up for brand new suits. Everything is tailor made to our exact measurements, and ready within twenty-four hours for a final fitting. The choices of styles, colors, and material is overwhelming. Whole streets are lined with clothing stores down both sides, each armed
with women ready to drag you off the sidewalk and into their shops. We go a bit overboard with our purchases, betting on the hope that the extra backpack that Tracy has can accomidate our new wardrobes.
Hoi An is a great city for chilling out. The food is fantastic and it is really easy to fall prey to the relaxed atmosphere of a second floor cafe by the riverside. But there is also quite a lot ot see outside of the city and in the surrounding villages. This requires transportation, and since the DMZ we had completely abandoned the option of a packaged tour. Since taxis can be quite expensive, and we blew a ton of money on clothers, our best option was to go by motobike - something Ryan and Tracy had no experience with.
A quick cruise down the alley and a five minute ride to fill up on petrol was all the practice that Ryan got. The lady across the street from our hotel didn't have any automatics, so Ryan had to learn the gears while we drove about fifty kilometers out to the ruins of My Son. It was slow going; we yielded
Tiny Dancer
Hold me closer.... to all traffic, waited ten minutes for intersections to clear and Ryan refused to go above 40 km/hour. But we arrived at the old palaces of the Champa Kingdom without incident, and had plenty of time to explore the many sites.
The Champa Empire had pre-dated the Angkor by roughly 200 years, ruling over most of what is known now as Vietnam. The buildings, at their old capitol near My Son, were roughly 1000 years old. The limestone and jungle had eaten away or dissolved much of the structures, but many carvings and much of the architecture were still there, a testament to the skill of the Champas, who used no nails or mortar. Their masonry skills weren't prepared for the Americans however, who dropped 500 pound bombs on the ruins in order to weed out the North Vietnamese troops who were hiding there. Now many of the buildings were scattered among the trees or lying in bomb craters. The Champa Empire's monuments had lasted a millenium in the jungle, only to be blown apart in seven years time by a culture from the other side of the Earth.
Even with sticking to our time schedule, the sun
Hoi An
Believe it or not, this is the only photo I have of the city. Too busy shopping. was setting when we left the ruins. It was worth driving out to see the old carvings and temples, but now Ryan had to spend his first day on a motorbike in the dark. On top of that, it began to rain. As drizzle turned into downpour, I realized my rainjacket was only a windbreaker and Ryan wished he had put his on. At one point, I asked Suz to put my hood on me, which was a mistake, as she put the hood over my whole face. After moments of driving blind, I decided to go without it at that point. We found ourselves completely miserable; thoroughly drenched with bloodshot eyes which were straining to see through the stinging rain. Wanting to get home as quickly as possible, I pulled a U-turn on the highway to get back to the road we had missed. Ryan was appalled. Ten minutes later he found a gap and we were back on track.
By the time we made it back to Hoi An, I never wanted to ride a moto again. Ryan was unfazed. He was stressed, but had had a great time, falling in love with the feel of the
Temple Nerds
These dorks just couldn't get enough of their Champa history. bike. It was definetly trial by fire (or water, as it were), but now that he was initiated we were free to roam across Vietnam. Provided the weather co-operated.
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Mommalou
non-member comment
Whew!
I am so glad I read this now and not in April. I must try to remember that youth brings a spirit of adventure and nonchalance with it!