From Hanoi to Hoi An

On the bus to the border and the train to Hanoi from Lao Cai, we met
up with two 19 year old Danish backpackers who probably out of respect
for our Chinese language skills decided we would be a safe group of
people to hang around. Unfortunately since our language skills
evaporated once we crossed the river we all ended up equally helpless
and exhausted in Hanoi. We showed up at a hostel which advertised dorm
beds for only 4.50 USD, but they charged us twice as much since we
didn't book online and they gave us a terrible exchange rate since we
were paying in Vietnamese Dong. Once Richy and Leo realized this, they
worked up a healthy dose of indignance and went to work on the hotel
desk staff with their Chinese bartering skills. After almost getting
us all kicked out of the hostel, they were finally able to get the
owners on the phone, who agreed that we could pay the online booking
price. The whole incident made walking past the reception desk for the
next three days an awkward experience, but one that saved us a decent
chunk of cash.

Richy and I got to see our third preserved communist leader under
glass, with Uncle Ho looking less dead than Lenin but slightly more
dead than Mao. It's worth mentioning that being put on display for
eternity was expressly against all of their wishes, making it all the
more macabre. We followed it up with a visit to the very interesting
and ultra modern Ho Chi Minh museum - only to get rushed through and
kicked out as the staff took their 1.5 hour lunch break. We're
starting to think Americans might be the only people in the world
without some kind of afternoon siesta, much to our cultural
disadvantage.

We parted with our Danish friends as they went to party it up with the
Australian college students in Halong Bay, a reportedly beautiful
UNESCO World Heritage Site which has apparently become the Cancun of
Asia. We decided we'd rather skip the rainy booze boat parties for yet
warmer weather further south.

After our previous exhausting travel experiences, we decided we could
use some of the money we saved at the hostel to splurge on some soft
sleeper train tickets. When we arrived at the train station, Richy and
Leo went off to find a corkscrew for the bottle of wine they had
bought for the journey while Katie D. and I went to find the train,
which required a bit of a hike around other trains and over several
sets of tracks. Some "friendly" helpers came out of the woodwork to
help us find the train (although we already knew where it was)
obviously wanting tips for their unsolicited assistance. When Richy
and Leo arrived, we locked them out of our cabin as they alternately
banged on the door and pretended to be the train conductor looking for
our tickets. After the train pulled out of the station we were met
with a friendly Swede, a Scotsman and a Dutch kid who we had
previously run into twice back in Kunming. We shared stories, drinking
games, wine and rice "vodka" as the train rattled violently through
the night and into the historic city of Hue.

Although Hue seemed to be a perfectly nice town, the pervasive drizzle
left us feeling less than energetic. In our wanderings around the city
we met a few interesting characters including a former South
Vietnamese soldier, who despite his good English and training can now
only make a living as a farmer since the North won the war. We also
were lucky enough to stumble into a restaurant that we had previously
seen featured on the Globe Trekker series, run by a deaf mute man and
his family. Not only was the food reasonably priced and delicious, but
he also entertained us with his bottle opening antics that he devised
with his own bottle opening invention. After our second meal there, he
gifted each of us with one of his homemade bottle openers as long as
we promised to send him a picture of us using it in our home towns.

After a 3.5 hour bus ride that turned onto 5.5 hour ride due to a flat
tire, we arrived to enjoy the 70 F temperatures and dry overcast skies
of Hoi An. Although the food is delicious, the prices are higher and
portions smaller than in Hanoi and Hue, but we found that even meek
attempts to haggle over prices are usually rewarded with discounts.
One banana pancake seller immediately dropped her price by 50 percent
when we protested paying 10,000 Dong for a pancake.

Most people here assume that because we are Americans, $1 for
something sounds cheap, but after living on China for so many months,
we know exactly how far a dollar should go.

Next we are heading off to the beach town of Nha Trang, hopefully to
finally catch some real sunshine before heading to Saigon and back to
China.

~Katie