Hoi An

Hoi An was lovely in almost every way--almost because motorcycles. And yet, the motorcycles there were manageable; there were natural, albeit short, lulls in the onslaught of traffic during which you could make your way across the street.

We flew to Danang

and cabbed it from there (unbeknownst to us, there was a new shuttle service, and another from Hoi An to Hue, but at that point we'd already bought our train tickets). The guy at the train station was very helpful and efficient. He didn't speak English, but we had everything written down and he triple-checked to make sure everything was right before booking our tickets. He even changed us to a different train to Hanoi from Hue, after pointing out that the one we wanted didn't have three beds in the same compartment. And this was our experience throughout Vietnam: people were extraordinarily, out-of-their-way helpful and efficient. I'd spoken before the trip to a coworker who'd been recently, and he told me he was surprised at how easy it was to travel in Vietnam--how the trains ran on time, literally and proverbially. It was really true. Jay marveled at how unlike India it was--India being shorthand for inefficiency and unhelpfulness. We wondered whether we'd have hated Vietnam the way we did India had we gone during the worst time of year, as we had to India (whereas it was the best time for most of Vietnam), but concluded 'probably not.'


The ride from Danang was stunning--mountains on one side, seashore on the other. I'd like to have gotten you a picture that doesn't feature rubbish bins, but we have what I was able to take from inside the cab. I don't regret the motorcycles in the photo; that's just Vietnam.

The cab driver didn't know the way once he got to Hoi An, so he invited a local to hop in and show him the way. She told us that there would be a lantern festival that night for the full moon, and asked whether we'd planned to get clothes made. Hoi An was, after all, the town of 800 tailors. I hadn't planned on buying clothes; in fact, I walked by the first few storefronts without yielding to temptation. But an entire town with storefront after storefront after storefront of dresses--all to be tailored to you--it was just too much to resist.

I ended up with *7* dresses, and then I had to turn my hands into blinders so I could walk by other storefronts without succumbing. They were all just so cute. I can't wait to wear them (I did wear one--it had pockets--in Hue). I packed the rest tightly in the bottom of my backpack, but thought about them often.

A.: I can't wait to hang up my babies when I get home.
Jay: [eyeroll]

It was also in Hoi An that I bought my (first) conical hat, a small one. Jay was dismayed at my failure to haggle, but it was our first full day in Vietnam and $4 didn't seem like a lot (within a few days, it would seem ridiculous). The conical hat was awesome--the best sun protection, ever, and eventually, the best rain protection.

We explored Hoi An--the market, the old town (which was mercifully closed off to cars and motorcycles).

I wondered later whether we'd have loved it as much if it hadn't been our first exposure to Vietnam--whether we weren't just loving Vietnam--but I maintain that there's something special about Hoi An.

In the afternoon, Jay and I biked out to the countryside.

Afterward, I picked up the dresses and we went for a lovely vegan dinner at Karma Way. Our tofu appetizer was delicious, and my pho was out of this world (Jay tried it, said it was the best he'd had). Happy Cow served us very well throughout Indochina, and the guys were not only accomodating but quite content about seeking out plant-based eats. The food was amazing just about everywhere (the only bad meal I had was within the Angkor complex, which was understandable; it was also the most expensive).

After dinner, the lantern festival, the beauty of which my camera couldn't capture.

It was magical.

The next morning, we shopped the local travel agencies for a Ha Long Bay cruise (eventually booking through our hotel, the great Hai Au) and headed back to Danang for our train to Hue, which also featured some loevly views.

It made me think of Nha Trang, which we'd nixed from our itinerary because there just wasn't time. I'd like to go back and see it.

I made a friend on the train--first, we had to evict the woman who was in my seat (actually, we just didn't understand what was going on and she eventually gave up and left). The woman sitting next to me was a medical master's student in Hue (she'd been home in Danang for the holiday). She started telling me about what to eat in Hue, but I told her--actually, I showed her a phrase I'd written down--that I only ate 'chay' or "Buddhist food." Yes, she asked me if I was Buddhist, and I told her I wasn't; I just didn't eat animals. She recommended a vegetarian place. She asked me where I worked, and I just couldn't explain it. She asked me about my home; I showed her pictures of my garden. She asked me my name, and told me hers, but I just couldn't pronounce it (Vietnamese is tonal, and I am tone-deaf). Conversely, she told me that her brother lived in the States, in Desas, and to her dismay, I had no idea what that was--until she wrote down Texas. She asked if I was on Facebook and was shocked that I wasn't. And then, we arrived in Hue.