Another night on the train, again I slept badly. I think it was not knowing when we were supposed to get to Da Nang, I should have checked yesterday but didn’t, as a result, I kept waking each time the train rumbled and wondering “I this it? Are we there yet?"
From dawn onwards I lay in my bed and watched out the window, the farms along the track gradually coming alive. Water buffalo everywhere in the fields. Different countryside again to further south. At one point we had to sit and wait for quarter of an hour for the south-bound train to pass, there only being double track along some stretches.
Finally got to Da Nang at 08:30 and caught up with some other backpackers all on their way to Hoi An — the four of us hired a taxi for the 25km trip. $17 for the trip, the driver seemed quite maniacal, I think he was trying to “prove” something to the English couple. Their comments about not being able to stand the traffic or the driving just seemed to egg him on.
As with every other driver you meet, he seemed to have a hotel in mind, either friends, relatives, or just a good back-hand source of money. Too new for the guide books, especially the Lonely Planet, which sadly seems to be a kind of self-fulfilling bible. If its in the bible, the backpackers go there and it survives, if it isn’t, nobody goes there and it fails. “Is not in your book,” a quote heard too many times, one that was starting to make us cringe. The hotel was only eight months old, a five minute walk to the old part of town, big three-star rooms for $10, $12 and $15 a night.
Streets of Hoi An from a first-floor cafe window
Shower, shave, and off into town for brunch. Omelettes in an upstairs café overlooking part of the “old town". Ho An is a very touristy town — all crafts and souvenirs, silks and paintings, completely different from the brash hotels and resorts of Nha Trang, more like the old walled towns of Europe.
Then it was off to walk around, looking at innumerable ceramic souvenirs, shoes, shirts, clothes. We tried to step onto the historic Japanese covered bridge, but discovered that you need to but a ticket from the tourist office; somewhere back down the road in town. Similarly all the historic buildings and shops require tickets in American dollars. It was pleasant enough just to walk around, the bridge looking far better from outside than inside anyway!
Japanese covered bridge
A tiny little old lady in traditional costume kept trying to get people to take photos of her — for cash. A young girl asking for your countries’ coins “for her collection". As soon as she found out we were from Australia she very quickly asked for $1 and $2.
The markets by the river were chocked with the standard Vietnamese tourist tee-shirts. This time we actually bought a few, four for $5, unlike the German tourist who stomped in ahead of me, asked how much, and paid $4 for one shirt without batting an eyelid. I seemed to get a good price on a Chinese compass — I really wasn’t interested in taking it, so when the price wouldn’t fall enough I really did just give up and walk off. It must have looked sincere, the lady accepted my price and then wouldn’t give me any change, kept on trying to fill up the difference with other bits of tat from her stall. I patiently stood there saying, “no, no, no….” until finally I got my change, a free gift, and a laugh. I think she enjoyed the whole performance.
A pleasant change from all the “no prostitutes” signs in the hotel rooms, here we were only exhorted to:
Don't bring weapon, inflammable, pets,
foul things into the hotel.
