Hoi An is a town brimming with culture, the best of which is exhibited in its old-world colonial-style architecture. In fact, its most impressive claim to fame are its collection of historical buildings which have been awarded the prestegious honour as being classified as UNESCO World Heritage Sites.
However, the whole thing sounded suspiciously educational, and Sara and I were far too busy having fun to bother with any of that nonsense.
Our first day in Hoi An we spent shopping. Strangely enough, Hoi An is renounced as being "the" place for cheap tailor-made garments in Southeast Asia. Think of it as a Milan-meets-Buffalo sort of thing. In any case, after five months of being subject to the same ratty tshirts and dying jeans, we went on what could only be described as a bonanza. Sara walked away with no less than three jackets, two fancy dresses and a pair of oh-yeah-that's-right red leather boots, all custom made. I ended up with two jackets, which for me was quite bonanza-esque. Shira, we've found your mecca.
High on life and jackets, we spent our second day scuba diving off Cham beach. Of course, it was wickedcool. The water was warm and clear and we saw a wide variety of fish, including flute fish, what may or may not be a clown fish (I had thought that clown fish were Nemos and this appeared to be some stripey melted-looking affair which would have more aptly been called a Chernobyl fish, but who am I to argue with guide Scuba Max?), star fish, baracuda fish ... ugh... red fish, blue fish... one fish... two fish... Okay, so perhaps I need to pay closer attention to David Attenborough. Anyway, we went for a total of three dives that day, down to a depth of 12 meters. And yes, we both emerged with The Little Mermaid song stuck in our heads for the rest of the day.
Our third day, we decided that we needed to do something a bit more embracing of the Vietnamese culture. So, what did we do, chow down on some pho? Sport fancy conical straw hats? Learn to squat with ease whilst waiting for the bus? Nah... we rented fully automatic motorcycles. Sara, of course, took to it as though she'd been wheeley-ing in the womb. It wasn't ten minutes before she was cruisin' around town with the grace and style of a Parisian winding through cobblestone streets with a basket full of fresh baguettes. I, on the other hand, rode the thing with the grace and style of a moose. Not only was I sworn at in at least six different languages (two of which I'm sure where made up on the spot just so they could further express their distain), the woman who was meant to instruct us said I was unteachable, and demanded I relinquish the keys before I killed myself. (What do you mean, you're not surprised?) Fortunately, Sara was such a natural that she was able to ride around with me sitting on the back, and so we were still able to cruise around just the two of us while earning major backpacker points.
Bad to the bone indeed.
So I see you follow in your Mother's tire tracks..and you thought that learning to ride a bike at a tender age was pointless. Should have..
ReplyDeleteGlad all's good