Hoi An

In Hanoi, for the bargain price of 48 dollars, we each purchased what's called an open bus ticket to Saigon with four stops along the way-- Hue, Hoi An, Nha-Trang, and Dalat. With an open ticket you can get off the bus at any of these cities and stay for as long as you'd like. When you want to continue on, you just call the local office a day ahead of time to confirm. These buses are supposed to be more luxurious than public transportation. Supposed to be. From Hanoi to Hue can only be described as a ride from hell. This was a 14 hour overnight journey on an old smelly sleeper bus--a bus with beds, not chairs. We were crammed into the very back with 3 other people. First the air conditioning was freezing but then it became terribly hot. The driver seemed to have a death wish, passing in the oncoming traffic lane, swirving, and honking needlessly. Needless to say, we were both pretty pleased when we saw the prestine condition of the next bus we got on to take us from Hue to Hoi An. It was new and clean and the air conditioning worked properly. Hurray!

Hoi An is a little town only 5km from the beach. The downtown is built up around a little river and its narrow cobble stone streets are decked with cute little shops. Hoi An is famous for two things-- custom tailored clothing and local food. We delighted in both of these luxuries. I had a pair of linen pants and shorts made and Zack had a pair of pants and a button up shirt made. We picked out the design, color, material, and had our bodies measured around noon. Our clothes were ready to pick up at 6pm. We hit the town in our new clothes to taste the food. The fried wanton dish was delicious! (Sorry, Duke, I know you are sick of us writing about how delicious the food is in every entry). We are also really enjoying all the fruity shakes. I love mango!

Tragedy struck our next day in Hoi An. We planned a day trip 50km west to the My Son (pronounced Mee Sun) temple ruins. A minivan picked us up at our hotel at 8am and then stopped to pick up about 8 other tourists. Before leaving town, we pulled up next to a large bus filled with tourists. A man came off the bus over to our van and introduced himself as our tour guide. Those of us in the minivan would rendevous with the rest of the people on the bus at the My Son ruins. Immediately, the bus took off speeding ahead of us. As we drove down the two lane back country road, we were both engrossed in our books. Since being in China, we'd grown used to the crazy traffic. Tons of motorbikes, bicycles, and a handful of cars and buses fill the streets in a crazy dance of death, buses passing in the oncoming lane of traffic. We were bound to see the scene of an accident at some point. This was the day. As our van slowed, I looked up from my book and gasped to see that the bus with our guide and fellow tourists had stopped after hitting a woman on a motorbike. She was sprawled out in the middle of the rode, arms and legs in awkward postions, dead. It was a terrible sight. There were two kids in the van with us, about 12 or 13 years old. Our minivan stopped and the driver got out and went over to the accident to see if there was anything he could do. It was too late. Two women were dead and another person was taken to the hospital. This definitely put a damper on the day, but we still saw the ruins. The ruins, though built by the same civilization as Cambodia's Angkor Wat, were not overly impressive. Sadly, a chunk of them were destroyed in a bombing during the Vietnam War. Forgoing the roads, we took a leisurely boat ride down a river back to Hoi An.

Our last day in Hoi An we rented bicycles and rode to the beach. It was much nicer than either of us had imagined. We layed on some benches and sipped some drinks before heading back to town to catch our next to Nha Trang.

Rachel

written by  zachel on April 5, 2009 from Hoi An, Vietnam
from the travel blog: Zack and Rachel's Asian Chronicles
tagged Hoian and MySon
Send a Compliment

comment on this...