Hoi Ants

I forgot to mention in my previous post one important thing about the bus from Hoi An to Hue--considering that this SE Asia, it wouldn't have been a bus ride without some cheesy music videosof some sorts. The choice for this ride? A bunch of obscure B-side hits from the late 80s.

How obscure? I've listened to a lot of 80s music in my time--and dare I say, actually like it (I never said I had great musical taste)--and so I recognized some of the bands, but I had never heard of most of the songs played. I realize Vietnam was effectively closed off from the world of pop culture during the 1980s, but that doesn't mean that everything they missed out on was worth experiencing. Another bizarre scene--watching some spectacular scenery while trying to stifle my laughter as the corner of my eye spots gregory hines and mikhail baryshnikov (sp?) dancing in a Lionel Richie music video. I repeat: if there is any down, out of work, 80s new wave band who needs the money, launch a reunion tour in SE Asia, and maybe consider living there permanently--you may not make as much money as you did in your heyday, but at least the cost of living is much cheaper. Heck, if I can find a dirt cheap airfare, it might be worth it to start a tribute band and rake in the dough.

So, I arrive in Hoi An around 1pm after having made the customary 30 minute rest-stop for every 1.5 hours on the road. My first impression? This is it? Doesn't look like much to me. It turns out the bus had dropped us off about a couple of hundred yards from the main old town site, near a lot of the budget/good value guesthouses. It was also very hot--and the sun was brutal.

For $12, I agree on a fairly decent room. That's when I notice the ants. (Side note: I hate ants. Passionately. I was literally scarred for life when I was 8 or 9 years old when I reached my hand in some bushes to dig out a basketball after getting out of school for Christmas break, and found my right forearm swarming with fireants, and ran, screaming, into the playroom bathroom to wash them off. Bite scars are still visible to this day). At first, I think that they are no big deal--and, at worst, I can always change rooms or hotels the next night, and I purposely put all my bags on tables away from the ants.

After resting for a bit, I got a map and started to wander around--(another piece of advice: save weight during the daytime by getting a map from your hotel/hostel/tourist office, take it back to your hotel room, look at the guidebook, and mark up what you want to see on the map--then ditch the guidebook. Those things can be hefty, and you really don't need them if you are just wandering around a certain area for the day)--and discovered that the map was a little bit inaccurate and not to scale, but once you figured that out, it was smooth sailing.

They've managed to do a great job of preserving the old town part of Hoi An that clings to the river--the buildings are in the Vietnamese Colonial style--all painted yellow and with the standard roof decorations. I spent the afternoon walking (and sweating) while also avoiding some of the equipment being used to tear up and subsequently repave the streets of Hoi An. That first day, I managed to find an internet cafe--although, in hindsight, I should have skipped it--the place was the previously described internet cafe with a grand total of two fans in a room packed with about 20 or so people, next to a house that was being repaired--and was serenaded by the sound of drills and other construction equipment. The sound and the afternoon heat were just to much to bear and I had to get out of there. Luckily, I was able to find a place much closer (cooler and nicer) that I was able to use, and it became my routine spot--it was a small place run by a family who lived upstairs (very common in vietnam for the merchant or restaurant owner to live either beside or above their business), and also operated a combination dvd/radioshack type of shop.

Had dinner the first night at a nearby place that wasn't all that memorable, but it was decent.

I get back to my room, and go to sleep, purposely trying to avoid the ants. When I woke up the next morning, to my dismay, there were ants all over the place--even where I had put my bag to purposely avoid them. I managed to get all of them off, but enough was enough, and I decided to see if I could change my room. They gave me the key to another room, and I check it out, but discover that there are ants in there too. I get my bags and walk out after paying. Fortunately, I was in guesthouse heaven--there were at least 10 if not 15 within a 2-3 block radius. I literally walked two doors down to another guesthouse, found a comparable room for the exact same price (imagine that--collusion, probably, but who knows--I could have gotten it for cheaper had I tried to bargain it down, but it honestly wasn't worth it).

When I wandered around in the old town in the afternoon, I honestly had no idea what I was seeing. So, after first getting my measurements taken for suits, I explored the old town with a purpose. My problem is that I had no idea what I was actually looking at, so I basically retraced my steps and wandered around the place for the morning and early afternoon. Hoi An is a nice relaxing place with not a lot of pressure to do anything, so I certainly didn't mind having an easy day of sorts. Walked down to the river and crossed the bridge to an island that is slightly off the tourist track and saw some of the local fisherman and fishing vessels. Took pictures of about four kids playing marbles in the shade. They requested some American coins, but, unfortunately, I didn't have any--instead, I looked through my wallet and found four 1 baht coins (worth about 3 cents apiece), and gave them that instead.

If you can get away from the motorbike drivers, Vietnamese people can be extremely hospitable and welcoming. It was approaching midday, and I needed a break, so I stopped by a little roadside stand and had a coke. The shopkeeper was there with her 7 year old daughter and husband, and, in her limited english, tried to talk to me. I freely obliged, and, soon enough, the daughter took an interest in me and started practicing her english--which I didn't mind helping her with. Certain practices transcend cultural boundaries, and that includes bragging about their children. Proud of their daughter, the mother and father showed off her notebook from school--not only was her handwriting better than mine (don't be too impressed...elephants with paintbrushes have better handwriting than I do), but she received darn near perfect marks on everything.

If its "hot" at 9am, than its darn near boiling at between 1&2pm, so its a perfect time to go inside and take a rest--and that's exactly what I did.

The weird thing about Hoi An and central Vietnam in general is that as miserable as the weather can be in June from sunrise to about 2-3pm, by 4pm or so, the low-pressure systems that bring in the monsoons to other parts of Vietnam create coastal breezes and winds that cool the temperature considerably--by at least 5-10 degrees--and make it borderline pleasant outdoors.

In broad daylight, the scenery surrounding Hoi An and Danang, with mountains in the background and ricefields and rivers in the foreground, is pretty to look at. In the late afternoon sun, the setting is spectacular.

With the decent temperature and the late afternoon sun not nearly as harsh as it was midday or in the morning, I decided it was as good a time as any to check out China Beach--the long, crescent shaped stretch of sand about 20-30 minutes from Hoi An that served as the legendary R&R location for many an American soldier and civilian based at nearby Danang. It was also, according to wikipedia, the name of a critically acclaimed but poorly viewed TV drama based on the experiences of red cross workers and GIs that worked in Danang that aired around 1990--and that, to the dismay of many fans, hasn't been released on DVD (from the brief clips I saw on youtube, it actually wasn't half-bad). In a rare case of a moto driver actually undershooting my expected price--the first hotel I stayed at told me it should cost about 12 bucks round trip, the second hotel said 10 bucks--the moto driver offered to take me there for six bucks. And he actually approached me, not vice versa. Sold.

Back on the road that hugs the coast, the high mountains of Hai Van pass that stretch to the sea north of Danang are backlit and silhouetted by the fading sun--and the low light manages to magically illuminate the just off-shore Cham Islands--four of five tall karst uplifts known for their great diving. After we passed the Danang international telecom cable station, I had the driver pull over near some of the roadside land that bears the scars of having previously been developed and built on (depressions, cleared fields, levelled ground, etc.--I'm not sure that the land used to a be a military base, but it would be interesting to look at a map archive to see what exactly was built there) so I could take some pictures.

We pass the usual golf courses, future development sites, and resorts, and then turn off on a dirt road within spitting distance of the entrance to the Marble Mountains. To my surprise, I am one of a grand total of less than five white people on this beautiful beach on the South China Sea. Lots of Vietnamese are out on the beach with their families and friends, doing things that wouldn't be out of place in the U.S.--building sandcastles (you have to wonder if that started out in the west, and was exported to Vietnam, or its just innate for kids no matter where they are to build castles in the sand), playing volleyball/soccer, sitting with their romantic partner, playing in the water with their families. The most noticeable difference, though, between this scene and one in the U.S. is the modesty of the women--whereas men and boys are wearing the standard swimshorts, vietnamese women, after they pass puberty it seems, are generally pretty modest on the beach--covering their shoulders and wearing shorts that are, at minimum, just above knee-length.

The low light, the coastal breeze, the spectacular setting, and the laid-back ambience of a place with historical significance as a respite from war created a magical scene that seemed to wipe away any worry or care from your mind--because the only other people on the beach were vietnamese, it was easy to feel a pleasant sense of isolation of just being on your own.

I walked up and down the beach, and decided to explore a little inland to where I had seen some ruins of buildings and rusted barbed wire that sat by the main dirt road to the beach. This probably wasn't the smartest idea given the potential for tetanus because of the rusted wire, broken glass, and broken bricks. I tried to imagine what could have possibly been there--it certainly had the appearance of an old military base, with the barbed wire, but I wasn't sure. And that's when I saw it; I somehow managed to miss it at first because it was covered in foliage, but the concrete octagonal structure had clear open firing slits, and a back entrance. It was a pillbox, oriented towards the beach. There was a plaque by the entrance--which was too littered with broken glass to risk exploring--but it was only inscribed with vietnamese (I took a picture of it--hopefully I'll be able to get it translated).

With the light continuing to fade, and needing to get back for another fitting, I got back on the motorbike and headed back towards Hoi An.

As I have mentioned previously, it is easy to get cynical after being on the road for 8-9 weeks, but there are certain things that can still make you go "wow" and possess jaw-dropping capability. A Hoi An sunset is one of them. I had the driver pull over once more as we were about to go over a bridge, and I walked on the sidewalk to the center. The inland wetlands and fishing vessels were silhouetted by the orange glow of the setting sun--and the only thing on my mind was that I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

There was more to come, however, as we pulled over by some ricefields so I could take pictures of the setting sun behind the mountain ranges reflecting in the water-filled ricefields filled with green shoots.

There are certain moments that I hope will stay with me forever, and that late afternoon is one of them (fortunately, though, I was able to take lots of pictures, unlike the full-moonlit nights on Merapi and in Luang Prabang). After that experience, I vowed to return to China Beach before I left.

Got my fitting and wandered around Hoi An at night. Spent a while gazing from the middle of the An Hoi footbridge as lightning illuminated far off thunder clouds. In my dumb luck, while taking a picture of the bridge, I managed to get some lightning lit clouds in the background. Of course, when I tried to purposely take photos of the lightning, I failed miserably--only getting blackness instead.