biking to the beach

Whereas I needed the previous night just to rest up, following my impromptu attempt at being a nature photographer and taking pictures of lightning, I decided to see if I could find a place that was little more lively. Most of the restaurants are laid-back places--places to sit and sip wine. As I've mentioned, I'm not exactly a wine drinker, so I was looking for somewhere a little more bar-ish.

Forunately, as I wander around, I find a bar showing the world cup game that is packed to the gills with orange-clad dutch supporters watching their game against denmark. Fortunately, they have an upstairs area that was pleasantly deserted (which was fine, because I hadn't had dinner yet). I sit by one of the TV screens and end up talking with a guy sitting nearby (somehow, there was a time-lag of about several seconds between the upstairs feed and the downstairs feed, which was made evident by the downstairs screams occurring five seconds after the play in question was broadcast upstairs). Turns out, the guy was not only a Dane who was watching more out of morbid curiosity, but he was also the former manager of the bar, who is in the process of trying to set up his own restaurant in Hoi An. Not only was he the former manager, his girlfriend worked at the bar, which meant that all of the staff were coming over and talking to him.

Now, people in SE Asia tend to be relatively guarded--especially around tourists--but all you need is one "in" or "connection"--even if that connection is someone who literally just met--and the guard drops (to the extent that it can--generally, the culture views reserve as a desired personality trait, which means if someone who you just met is being overly friendly, they want something from you).

That was the same night that I broke two of my "rules"--I had red bull or at least a red bull knockoff (they actually make a sports drink that is red bull flavored gatorade without any of the taurine or whatever they use to give red bull the kick--and yes, red bull flavored gatorade does taste nasty--its called Sponsor, and avoid it at all costs), and I had a whiskey bucket. And yes, it was the same night that I ran into the girl whose family counts Kinky Friedman as a valued customer.

Fortunately, I wasn't planning on doing anything the next day, which was fine because I got to bed late. Of course, I was awakened by the sound of the air conditioner and power switching off in the morning because of the rolling blackouts due to the low water level in the Mekong not generating enough hydroelectricity.

After taking care of some errands, it was the middle of the day. Now, considering how hot and humid it was, I should have just found some nice cafe and rested and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon. That would have required some common sense, though.

Instead, I decided to rent a bike and ride out to a beach that was about 4kms away. I should also mention at this point that the only map I had was a small business card sized map of the city center. I had seen some signs pointing to where the beach was, but I generally had no clue where I was going. I just figured I'd take the road in the direction the sign said and see what would come of it. (Riding bikes and going up stairs are great ways of determining how out of shape you are, and what exactly is wrong with your body. Unsurprisingly, my tweaky left knee was still tweaky as always).

To summarize:

Nearly 100 degree heat with 100% humidity.

Feeling somewhat worn out/ill from the night before, and already sweating like a pig before hopping on a bike.

Having a tweaky left knee that is not up to full strength.

Only having a general idea where I was going--but no real map to speak of.

--and I decide to go anyway.

I'm sure my parents are glad to know that they've raised a kid capable of making such intelligent choices.

For a buck, I get a bike and start heading east on the main road. There's no official tradition of a "siesta" in Vietnam, but there might as well be--the once bustling streets turn eerily quiet between the hours of about 1 and 4pm, and the only people stupid enough to be out and about in the midday heat are tourists. So, I generally have the road to myself, except for other westerners heading that same way. The road isn't all that scenic for the first half--just pass a bunch of stores and various developments, although you do have to go over a couple of creeks--then you pass a river to your right and then are in the ricefields again for a little while as you have to climb over a bridge before finally arriving at the beach--a more crowded, less scenic, more developed China Beach stretch of sand, although with a better view of the Cham Islands.

By the time I arrived at the beach, I was sweating like a pig and decided to find some place to camp out in the shade (with the intention of writing in my journal) for a couple of hours before "witching hour"--as I came to dub the time between 415 and 515pm--approached and it was nice enough to walk around again. I found a shaded restaurant, parked my bike, covered the seat with the scarf I bought in Cambodia, and had a drink.

The nice thing about travelling in SE Asia is that it is pretty easy to strike up a conversation with a fellow tourist, especially if you are both solo. It helps that it is also easy to identify the tourists--they are either the people who don't look asian (read: mostly white people), or, if they are of asian heritage (whether that be korean, japanese, chinese, or asian-american/european), the people who don't dress like the locals. This is a good general rule for everywhere except Singapore, where, for non-asians, add the condition that they are not wearing a suit or any other form of professional attire.

****Social psychology sidetrack (skip if you wish--I have no background in psychology other than two classes, one of which I took credit/d/fail, the other I dropped before it could appear on my transcript, so what appears below is, at best, something approaching brain droppings)

I honestly don't know why it is easier to talk to a stranger and to meet new people on the road than when you are at home. It should be exact opposite: you and a stranger meeting at home are more likely to have shared traits (cultural background, ethnic background, life experience) that should make it easier to find common ground. Of course, the shared background presents its own difficulties: namely, a hierarchy of social rules and customs that govern interactions between two people at home, preconceived stereotypes based on the stranger's behavior and dress, and the realization that the two of you are probably share a common friend or acquaintance. Pigeon-holing while traveling is generally limited to age range and nationality, some of the b.s. rules that govern social interactions back home are thrown out (leaving you only with the essentials), and the chances of you having a shared contact is considerably less. There's also zero pressure, because you are also less likely to continue to run into this person. Of course, the simplest explanation is that people on vacation are just in a better mood and are friendlier than when they are at home. Again, I don't know the answer--the only conclusion I can make is that for whatever reason, people are just more approachable when they are on vacation.

****End social psychology sidetrack

Anyway, as I'm downing water bottle after water bottle to make up for all the sweating I've done, I'm watching some random movie in this outdoor restaurant underneath a fan (upon further in-depth research--wikipedia--I discovered that the movie was probably "airheads." Not one of Brendan Fraser's finest, but it is a cheap time machine to the early 90s) and strike up a conversation with a girl sitting at the table next to mine. Though she's a born and raised englishwoman, my hunch is that she's of mixed racial background, a hunch which is confirmed when she tells me that after Vietnam, she is headed to see her mother's family in Indonesia--and she is proficient enough in Bahasa to shock touts and merchants who try to overcharge her.

She's from Leeds (for whatever reason, the two most common hometowns/areas for the English that I met, other than London, were Leeds and Yorkshire), but works at the University of Manchester in their social anthropology department, and managed to get her ticket to Vietnam, as well as some expenses, paid for by the university, as she was conducting research in Saigon. It turns out she did a year abroad at Arizona State while studying photography (and had a blast).

We both notice an interesting phenomenon--the majority of the people on beaches in Vietnam between the hours of about 9 to 4pm are pale and pasty foreigners or wealthy vietnamese (which you can tell by their dress). As soon as 4pm rolls around, however, rush hour for the locals occurs, and the beach is swarming with extended families and groups of friends seeking to enjoy the last 2.5 hours of daylight--this probably isn't a coincidence, as 4pm to sunset is the nicest part of the day by far.

After considerably cooling off, we decide to join them and just walk on the beach for about an hour or so and see the good (older vietnamese couples burying each other in the sand, young vietnamese couples with their lifejacket swaddled children), the bad (merchants placing mats along the shoreline and pestering us to sit down and have some food, the sheer crowds), and the just plain ugly (villas/developments along one end of the shoreline, white "whales" sunbathing and wearing banana hammocks near said properties). It was a nice setting, but I thought China Beach was actually nicer because it was bigger, less touristy, and had better views.

Ride back as the sun again sets over the ricefields, and I do my usual routine of go to the bar, eat, and end up meeting an ex PWC employee from london, and a UBS worker from L.A. who is in the process of being transferred to New York.