Cha Cha Cha (Ca) in Hanoi

In the afternoon, we arrived at Hanoi's Noiboi airport, and were picked up by the car from our hotel, the Golden Lotus II. We arrived at the hotel, nestled in the middle of the Old Quarter's market district, a good staging point for an evening in Hanoi. After checking in, we immediately headed to the Hanoi Water Puppet Theater. The Dragon Water Puppets are a traditional comedic art form, featuring wooden dragon puppets that seem to float in pools of water.

Sadly, because the Asian Indoor games had drawn so many tourists to the city, all shows were sold out for that evening. So we determined to stroll the market, grab a bottle of wine, relax on our hotel balcony, overlooking the busy Hang Trong street (meaning "drums" and indicating that leather goods are sold there) and then pursue dinner at one of the traditional market eateries.

On our hotel's block, a group of French expats opened a wine boutique called "The Warehouse." We picked up a bottle of bubbly, opened our balcony door and listened to the bustle below as we read through guide books looking for the perfect dinner spot.

We decided on a Cha Ca restaurant, which means "roasted fish." All cha ca restaurants are located on the aptly named Cha Ca Street and offer only this one dish. We sat a table with a hot plate. The waittress brought a cast iron plate with curry-seasoned fish cut into chop-stick-sized chunks, along with a bowl full of fresh dill, scallions, and lemongrass. She tossed all together, and set it on the hotplate. After 5 minutes, we put the delicious-smelling fish fry over a bowl of rice noodles and chilis, ladled in some smelly tofu sauce, and set to work.

Heading back to the hotel after dinner, we decided to spend another few hours on the balcony and then pack in anticipation of our upcoming boat adventure beginning bright and early the next morning.

Good Night Saigon

Our hotel in Saigon could not have been in a better location, and, after shaking the lag from our overnight train, we took full advantage. Saigon, upon closer inspection, is very like many other cities its size. It is busy, full of flashy advertisements, pollution, and is by far a more international city than Hanoi or anywhere else we've been in Vietnam. The prices are higher, the people in more of a hurry (if that's possible), and the general feeling more cosmopolitan. To best enjoy this metropolitan Saigon, we decided to skip the tourist traps and blend into the expat community, enjoying a series of smoky, swanky bars, hip cafes, French/Vietnamese Fusion restaurants, and sunsets on rooftop bars across the city center. We felt we got a much better feel of the pulse of Saigon this way, rather than being herded through the War Remnants Museum (though we looked at the rusting US military hardware from our balcony across the street).


As we left the lobby after checking in, we realized that everywhere were "athletes" from all over the continent, here to compete in the 2009 Asian Indoor Games, and staying in our hotel. Right outside the main entrance is a 20-foot-tall, inflatable red cartoon rooster--the Ho Chicken, apparently native to Vietnam and the symbol of this year's games. In true Asian tradition, the rooster is, in fact, flashing the peace symbol.

Instantly excited about this previously unknown athletic event, our minds raced with the "indoor" and "Asian" athletic permutations (ping-pong? badminton? sumo?).... we had to know. Looking at the variety of physical specimens among the "athletes," they could have been participating in anything from billiards to muay thai boxing (and were).

Frantically scrambling the internet to find the listed events, we were not disappointed. In fact, we realized that there were many legitimate and competitive events: boxing, 3-on-3 basketball, handball, martial arts...... HOWEVER, on the unknown list were events such as "E-Sports," Lion-Dragon Dance, and Kabaddi--Uzbek Belt Wrestling (no, we are not joking).

All fun-making aside, the Asian Indoor Games are actually a big deal with serious implications for the Olympics (where actual Olympic events are involved). The political ramifications are also huge, and it's clear in the Vietnamese press how important their turn to host the games is for the country. Also, as true political science nerds, we found it interesting to see what countries were represented and which weren't (i.e., there being a Chinese team, a Hong Kong team, a Taiwan Team). For those curious, we'll post a medal count when we can find it. As of now, China is in first (they were walking around the hotel in their Red, potentially knockoff/China real Fila windsuits like they owned the place.... but then, wouldn't we?), with Vietnam a close second. Anyway, we'll get back to these characters in a bit.

The Rex hotel is a strangely labyrinthine building that was built in the 30s. Oddly, many of the rooms have windows that look into the hallway, rather than the outdoors. We were fortunate enough to get the honeymoon upgrade (Noticing a trend? We're so spoiled) to a corner suite with dual balconies overlooking the street. However, during the war, the hotel was leased by the US government to billet officers stationed in Saigon. The Rex now sports a number of high-end boutiques, bars and restaurants... and, of course, pan-Asian athletes.

The hotel is located next to the People's Committee Building, formerly the colonial Hotel d'Ville (that's city hall in French for those that don't know). It's a gorgeous building with neo-baroque architecture and sculptures, now fenced off behind guardposts manned by Kalashnikov-wielding soldiers. Sadly, admittance is for Party members only.

Venturing out beyond this building, we decided to take a late lunch at a supposedly ultra-trendy courtyard restaurant that serves food from every region of Vietnam at separate outdoor cooking stations. Sadly, this is the one time Lonely Planet let us down. In fairness, the food was good, but the service was attrocious. Along with their new, larger location (a move that happened after LP's review) came trouble on the service side. We, like the tables adjacent to us, had orders confused and missing, and spent much more time there for much less food. Granted, we've had nothing but excellent experiences elsewhere in the country, so this one may be skewed by how superior the restaurants have been for us. Further, we don't speak the language, so we could not easily convey a missing order. A lesson from experience: stay on your toes if the waiter brings you something you did not order, as they will make you pay for it... or if you catch it in time, will take it back and serve it to the correct table, even after Katie has tasted some of the crab... FYI.

Since lunch took so long, we missed sunset, but headed up to the rooftop bar of our hotel, anyway, to watch the neon lights and crowded streets of Saigon by twiglight. Listed as one of the 1000 places to see before you die and voted one of the best bars of South East Asia by Newsweek, the hotel roof bar overlooks the heart of the city with spectacular views of the Opera House. The Rooftop Garden known as "Five O'clock Follies" in the 60s, was a popular drinking place for US officers and GIs, as well as international correspondents covering the war. Now, it's a super-flash watering hole for expats, featuring waiters, who could be out of "Good Morning Vietnam" and one hell of a lounge-lizard sextet (alto sax, keyboards, guitar, bass, drummer, and heavily-accented singer bedecked in more sequins than Joan Rivers on Oscar Night). After a super-pricey bottle of Australian Shiraz-Mourvedre-Grenache and some fantastic octopus salad, we spent the night sipping away and taking in the energetic scenery all around us.

The next morning, we went to breakfast on the top floor of the hotel. This one compared well with some of the other complimentary breakfasts we've had, but Camellia in Hue still reigns supreme. We sat down at a table adjacent to a handful of Uzbek athletes (I use 'adjacent' loosely, since we were 2 inches away from them). They looked at Adam, in his 4 day beard, with quizzical expressions. It was as though to enquire whether Adam was competing for Uzbekistan or the hated Tajikistan in fin-swimming (We're not kidding again... this is an actual event). Needless to say, the Uzbeks, as they usually do, make for fairly uncomfortably company.

All around us, the nations of Asia, stretching from the Mediterranean to the Pacific (Albania?), showed off their national colors. In the case of Malaysia, they eschewed their national colors for badass "Tony the Tiger" garb (orange tiger-striped windsuits because they're Grrrrrrrrreat!). For anyone who's into the odds, we also have opened a sports book on the upcoming India vs. Bangladesh E-Sports showdown.... 1 vs 2 seed here. You didn't hear it from us, but we saw India's top E-athlete icing his nagging carpel tunnel wrists.

We lazed about most of the morning, booking our travel back north to Halong Bay, via Hanoi, and eating. We had lunch at The Temple Club, a spectacular Vietnamese grill restaurant on the second floor of a centuries-old house in the middle of a neighborhood reminiscent of Graham Greene. We sat here, enjoying the meal and a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, while inhaling the incence fumes wafting up from the family shrines in the two restaurants on the first floor below.

After lunch, we strolled through the neighborhood, looking at the juxtaposition of swank and tradition--Dolce and Gabbana next to generations-old Pho stands. At sunset, we ascended the elevator of the Sheraton Ho Chi Minh City to the 23rd floor rooftop bar. The Sheraton is a relatively new hotel, located next to the super-luxury Caravelle Hotel. It's rooftop bar offers a 360 degree view of Saigon from the South China Sea to the outskirts of the city, and, if our eyes could see it, the Cambodian border. Nursing an admirable Rhone and taking in the beauty of the metropolis from stories above, we felt that many (especially our Vietnamese friends from smaller cities like Hue and Hoi An) had unfairly judged Saigon. It is busy, it is brash. But it is the first city of Vietnam.

As dusk became dark, we decided that rather than eat at the super-expensive roof bar, we would grab a bottle of wine from a neighborhood wine store, along with some basic staples and picnic on our balcony. We watched the traffic continue past our room into the wee hours.

The next morning, we collected our plane tickets back to Hanoi, along with our travel confirmation for two nights on a sailing junk in Halong Bay, and headed to the airport for our journey north.

Off to Saigon

The next morning, as we checked out, awaiting our car to Da Nang train station, and saddened that the quick turnaround did not allow for multiple extra fittings with Em Ma, a motorbike zipped up at the last minute to deliver our clothes. We said farewell to a beautiful, relaxing, fulfilling (and filling) week in Hoi An. As we write, we are sitting on our berth, alone in our cabin on the train to Saigon. All told, it will be near 16 hours (and 4:30am) when we arrive. The first leg of our trip from Da Nang to Nha Trang has been uneventful, besides the less-than-spotless mattresses and blankets and the frequent, if hilarious, interruptions of the grinning beverage/snack cart woman. Still so early in the trip, we undoubtedly have many unknown adventures still ahead of us and hope they are as innocuous as those on our last overnight train….

Update: We made it all the way to Quang Ngai (halfway between Da Nang and Nha Trang ~ 5 hours) without company in our berth and happily updating a week’s “back blog” (ha) and watching a rainstorm in the countryside as we passed. Making mental note to remember to bring a pack of playing cards on all future vacations. The train stopped in Quang Ngai and we abruptly had cabinmates. The first opened the door and stopped to give us the full once over before entering. A non-descript gentleman in his late 40s with nothing but an attaché case he didn’t initially respond to Katie’s cheerful, “hi!”. After a painstaking 45 seconds or so he apparently found us innocuous enough and entered but not before yelling something we assume to the effect of, “Hey, look who’s in my cabin…” down the hallway because seconds later there were 3-5 additional curious faces of similar businessmen peering in at us. The onlookers dispersed with the arrival of our second cabinmate, another businessman, perhaps a bit younger who gave us a polite nod and then climbed up to his bunk and laid down.

Whether they didn’t speak English or that they failed to find novelty in the young western travelers like many of their compatriots, or both, we don’t know. But, as we waited for some type of interaction, we soon realized it was not to be. The closest thing was after a little tickle in her nose, Katie sneezed, the man on the top bunk sat up, reached for his bag and pulled out and adorned a surgical mask for the remainder of the trip. Katie and Adam exchanged eye-contact but not a word, finding it hilarious that he was as concerned about catching something from us,as we were from him.

The remaining few hours awake were spent with Adam reading, and Katie fighting motion sickness while trying to write wedding thank you notes and then subsequently dozing in and out for the remaining 8+ hours until we reached Saigon just before dawn. We dropped our luggage at the luxury Rex Hotel in the Dong Khoi District at the center of District 1 and wandered off into the waking city.

We attended the 0530 Catholic mass at the Notre Dame Cathedral across from the Central Post Office. The mass, all in Vietnamese, was well-attended and luckily the sprawling pink and white cathedral offered plenty for us to look at when we couldn’t guess which part of the liturgy we were listening to. We wandered past the Reunification Palace where an NVA tank (now parked out front) famously crashed through the gates symbolizing the fall of Saigon in 1975. We then past the Opera House where two men were setting up chairs and speakers for a morning concert on the steps. We lingered in a coffee shop trying to decipher a Vietnamese version of GQ and then reading the extremely interesting English version of the Vietnam Financial Review before heading to Pho 24 for breakfast. Finally, at 10AM we were allowed to check in at our hotel where we found, yet again, we had been upgraded. (woo!) Now, to rinse the train grime away and get ready to explore Vietnam’s biggest city….

My Son by Motorbike

The next morning, we headed out early, picked up at our hotel by Johnny, who completely fit the part of jet set wheeler and dealer and not at all a local tour guide. He showed up with his brother and two motorbikes to carry us the 50km up into the mountains to My Son.
If our first motorbike trip was a refreshing little jaunt, this was a bugs-in-teeth, tail bone bruising, wonderful experience. Somehow the countryside looks more beautiful in the open air. Adam nonchalantly climbed aboard Johnny’s bike, and, like the locals, used one hand to brace himself on the rear handle. Katie, on the other hand, quickly became close friends with Johnny’s brother, who spoke no English, but smiled as she broke the local custom of holding onto the driver, clinging to him for what she thought was dear life. Despite the language barrier, he knew every time he took a corner too tight or was going to fast by the increased clamping of Katie’s grip.

The way to My Son meanders through rice patties, timber forests, along bumpy-but-more-or-less-well-paved roads, and up into the cooler, quiet mountains. Upon leaving Hoi An, most of the traffic was students, in their white shirts and red handkerchiefs, on bicycles. One notable exception, on the outskirts of the modern town of My Son was a caravan of motorbikes, strapped with cages packed with pigs.

My Son is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and like Angkor Wat was a holy city with temples dedicated to the Hindu Gods. Unlike Angkor, it belonged to the Champa Empire, and dates to the 4th Century AD. The Champa maintained close ties with the Hindu empires of Indonesia, and were constantly at war with their Khmer, Viet, and Chinese neighbors. The 71 temples constructed in the valley at My Son were often erected to celebrate victories in their many wars of expansion, before succumbing finally to Viet domination.

Of the 71 temples, only three remain standing after 1000 years, but most acutely after US bombs leveled the valley to force out the Vietcong, who used it as a refuge. Again, we cannot describe the architecture, as we would not do it justice. Nor can we put into words the serene, almost mystical atmosphere of the surrounding natural beauty. As with places like Stone Henge or Tikal, you can understand why Hindu priests of millennia past would place their holiest of sites there. Apparently the ancient Indochinese Hindu kingdoms were divided along sectarian, as well as ethnic lines. The Cham who built My Son, worshiped Shiva as the pre-eminent God, the Khmer of Angkor Brahma, and the Indonesians Ganesha. Tributes to Shiva were scattered among the remaining stellae, altars, and carved frescoes among the crumbling buildings. The other, most important, symbol seen all over the complex, was the linga and yoni, representing male and female, respectively, as an augur of fertility (and to each the male and female incarnations of Shiva).

After our licensed guide had finished his cursory one hour tour, we were left alone to take photos. Sadly, unlike the Imperial City in Hue, My Son was crawling with tourists, who arrived in droves on tour buses. Indeed, being a UNESCO World Heritage Site means that you can no longer fly under the radar of fanny-pack-wearing Germans or photo-snapping Japanese.
When we had seen all we needed to, we picked up Johnny and his brother, who had been catching crickets to feed his pet bird, and had a couple beers at the site’s restaurant. We chatted about Johnny’s business ventures, Vietnam, the US, and topics across the full spectrum, as new friends will. Johnny’s brother sat silently, eyeing his crickets. Katie mentioned to Johnny that she had hoped to have snails in Hue, but had missed every opportunity to do so. Johnny suggested that we have a late lunch back just outside Hoi An at a great spot he knew that specialized in snails and grilled fresh fish. We also happened to see our friend from Hue, who had come to My Son with a couple clients of Hue Riders. We exchanged pleasantries, and he wished us continued safe and happy travels.

On the way back to Hoi An, Katie, feeling more adventuresome, was getting the knack of being a motorbike passenger, and only clung to her driver when she saw bumps approaching. About midway on the journey, Johnny got a flat…somewhat miraculously in the middle of a town, and more miraculously, directly in front of a motorbike repair shop (we wondered if they had tacked the road). After a quick, nonchalant and seemingly-routine patch job, we were back on track.

On the outskirts of Hoi An, we veered off on a side road that travelled along the river, past rice patties and, very surprisingly, a cruise ship beached in the mud, now serving as a floating restaurant and conference center. We hoped this would not be our lunch destination… thankfully, it wasn’t. Another mile down the road, we pulled into an unmarked, deserted, open air restaurant whose deck butted up to the water. Johnny ordered in Vietnamese as we walked to our table, and the owner and her daughters brought out local LaRue beer (mineral water for the drivers) and a pot of snails. The snails were huge, almost as big as Katie’s fist, and a little more chewy than expected. But they were steamed in chiles, garlic and broth, and served over fresh mint and young banana and cucumber slices. Delicious.

Next, the owner brought out a hot plate and a steamer with the lid on, hiding the contents and set it in the middle of the table. Johnny explained that this was the food that foreigners can’t get because they don’t know how to ask for it, and what the locals truly love. He was right. When the valve on the steamer began to puff, he raised the lid, and we saw (and smelled) a whole fish in saffron broth, banana leaves, chiles, garlic, and who knows what other delights. The fish was served over thin noodles, in its own broth. It simply knocked our socks off. This, without question, has been our favorite meal in Vietnam, thus far, and frankly will be hard to beat. The food alone would inspire this sentiment, but experiencing this with our new Vietnamese friends, in a restaurant off the beaten path made it all the more memorable. If we could tell you how to get there, we would. But sadly, this recommendation is not easily replicated.

On the way to Em Ma’s shop (the termination of our tour, and where we hoped to be fitted in our new clothes), Adam was involved in his first motorbike accident. Reentering the city, on busy streets only two blocks from Em Ma’s shop, Johnny following his brother, looked to pass a truck that was stopped to make a lefthand turn. Seeing the coast was clear, he veered right around the truck, just as a woman (on a motorbike, of course) sped across the intersection without looking from the other side of the truck. Johnny managed to swerve and keep his bike upright, as she clipped his front end, and slid into the middle of the street. For a brief moment, a sight rarely seen happened: all the traffic on a Vietnamese street stopped dead to inspect the scene. Amazingly, and mercifully, the girl got up uninjured. Everyone dusted themselves off, and the break-neck pace of traffic resumed.

Unfortunately, our garments weren’t ready, so we took advantage of the afternoon with a few more hours on the beach. Having booked for five nights, after our two extensions, we were given a complimentary dinner at the hotel restaurant. Not the best meal, but how do you turn down free food? Plus, finally, the tide cooperated, allowing for the hotel to deploy its floating lanterns. The beautiful red and green paper glowed with each lick of flame, and was perfectly soothing after the fast (though exceptionally fun) pace of the day.

Clothes, Shoes and Seafood: A Hoi An Love Story

Early the next morning, we took our time leaving our riverside apartment to mosey along to breakfast in the lobby, knowing that we’d have to suck it up and move to one of the deluxe rooms for the rest of our stay (alas, our upgrade wasn’t permanent). The complimentary breakfast here wasn’t quite the Camellia’s. Though the Pho was OK, most of the food catered to far less adventurous mainly-European tourists. Croissants and pastries are fine, but we don’t want them to take the place of the delights of Vietnam. Still, the riverside verandah where the breakfast tables were set made it all worth it, and we resolved that a free meal beats one you have to pay for. We’d just make up for it by finding great Vietnamese food for lunch and dinner.

It was probably noon by the time we boarded the shuttle to town. Getting off at our Hotel’s sister site in the city center, cleverly named Hoi An Hotel, we used Lonely Planet’s Hoi An walking tour as a framework to explore the town (liberally adding and subtracting sites), something easy to do in a place as small and friendly as Hoi An. The “sites” of Hoi An are mainly 18th and 19th century assembly halls erected by Chinese merchants. Before the river silted over, Hoi An was the major trading port of Central Vietnam, to be superseded in following centuries by Da Nang. The delegation halls bear the names of the Chinese regions from which the merchants came: Canton, Hainan, etc. There are also some lovely pagodas and a picturesque Japanese covered bridge. But the true draw of Hoi An is not the sites, but the silks. Aside from the natural beauty of the beach and river, people come to Hoi An to shop. We recommend, when in Vietnam, you do little shopping (and certainly no garment shopping) before you arrive in Hoi An.

While strolling past a 16th century temple dedicated to the Chinese hero of the Warring States period, Zhuge Liang, we were approached by a girl who invited us to visit her family’s silk shop, hidden in the city market. Now, a point that we did not know before arriving in Hoi An, is that the vendors can be divided into two groups: those that may sell in the market, and those that may not. According to our new friend, the government does not tax sellers in the market as heavily as those who have actual storefronts on the streets. Therefore, she said, the prices in the market were lower than the other vendors’.

Wanting to procure some new suits and dresses, and Katie putting on her game face, we happily followed her into the warren of stands under the familiar blue tarps. In the central market building, we passed rows of identical tailor stands, sewing machines, and stacked fabrics of silk, wool, and linen until we reached her sister’s shop, identified only by its number, 52. We spent a couple hours there being measured, picking out fabrics and styles, and, of course, haggling over the price. After eventually receiving the “honeymoon discount,” we were told to come back in about 24 hours to try on the new clothes they were to craft for us for fine-tuning.

We came to find that one of the girls measuring us was not, in fact, a tailor, but a cobbler, whose family owned the shoe shop just around the bend. Helping her friends out of boredom, curiosity, and an eye for new business, she invited us to take a look at some books of shoe styles that she and her young cousin would make for us. As an aside: we might have turned this offer down, had Katie’s room mate Kristan not sworn by a pair of boots she had made in Hoi An.
As we looked through books of shoes, it was a pleasure to sit and chat with Vi and Ha (18 and 23, respectively) about universal female topics: boyfriends, honeymoons, sexy shoes, and babies (Adam was nonplussed). The girls were sincere in their well-wishes for us as newlyweds, and honest in their bargaining. So, another couple of hours later, we were told to expect a few pairs of new shoes to try on the next day.

Considering our day rather successful (2 new suits, 2 tailored shirts and a pair of shoes for Adam; 2 new dresses, a pair of boots, and a pair of “sexy shoes” for Katie), we set our sights on dinner. While certainly not a traditional Vietnamese hole in the wall, Before and Now, a swanky hipster fusion restaurant suited our needs. Full of expats and trendy Vietnamese, offering endless Euro-pop music, wi-fi and cool, politically charged original artwork, this place was definitely worth the slightly higher (very relative, of course) prices. At a table next to paintings of Che in sunglasses imposed on a coca-cola label, and titled “Enjoy Che Guacola,” and Bono emblazoned with the Superman logo, we enjoyed seafood spring rolls, Hoi An specialty “white rose” dumplings, and a bottle of Temperanillo (did we mention they had a great wine list and elegant stemware to match? This was a first on our trip). After dinner, we carried our full bellies back to the shuttle and headed home to take a quick dip in one of the two pools at the resort before turning in.

Upon waking up on our third morning, we realized that we were finally getting into the relaxed flow of Hoi An and decided to extend our stay another two nights. Spending the morning at the beach (where we somehow got wireless reception that allowed Katie to write a final exam for class), we planned our afternoon around picking up our garments and shoes. After a few hours in town, including multiple fittings of clothes and shoes requiring some fine adjustments, we snacked by the riverside at a restaurant simply known by its address, 69. We had yet another spectacularly fresh seafood salad. The fishermen in Hoi An do brisk business, so the seafood there is exceptionally fresh. We saw this firsthand as we strolled through the market later that day.

After having another drink at Before and Now (why leave a good thing?) and realizing that our shoes would not be ready til the next morning, we headed back to our palapa until sundown. As we mentioned, the pace of life in Hoi An becomes infectious. Having two more days before needing to board another overnight train for Saigon, we decided the Beach would get our full attention on one (it may not be imaginative, but was exactly what we needed) and My Son, the ancient holy city of the Champa Empire would take the other.

So heading back into town the next morning to pick up our shoes, in the middle of a fishing shop, we ran into Em Ma, a new character to add to the cast. She emplored us to take a look at her silk shop, telling us the secret of shopping in Hoi An is, in fact, to avoid the market, where many different craftsmen and the cronies they use to motorbike their goods from homes to market take a commission, which, in turn, drives up the price. Intrigued at the possibility that we’d been had (despite being happy with both product and price at 52), we followed her to her store. She assured us anything was possible in the less than two days we had left, and subsequently, we ordered more clothes at what was, indeed, a cut rate from what we’d paid in the market. Sitting in the shop, drinking tea, and chatting with family members was a treat (including Adam playing a color matching game with Em Ma’s tiny neice, Mango; and Katie having her hair braided by sisters). And, by the way, keeping it all in the family, we booked our ride to My Son with Em Ma’s son, Johnny, who spoke excellent English from his business dealings in Europe and Australia.

After dinner at a restaurant recommended by the family (featuring a dynamite grilled fish in banana leaf), we headed back to the hotel for a late night drink and to see the lanterns in the water… which were not in the water… perhaps the tides worked against us.

To the Beach!

The trip by road to Hoi An takes you down highway 1, through the heart of Da Nang, and along the coast. About an hour into the ride, we stopped at a ramshackle beach resort on the Northern outskirts of Da Nang. “We stop twenty minutes” our driver said, as our fellow German passengers trooped out. Upon a second glance, the resort seemed like it may have been beautiful once, before successive typhoons and floods literally washed what was once a long esplanade with palm hut villas into the sea.

As the air conditioning was shut off when the bus stopped, we decided to take a short stroll, rather than broil in our seats. The stop was undoubtedly a favor to someone’s buddy who ran the hotel bar. After re-mounting the bus, we ambled on again down highway 1, past Monkey Mountain and into Da Nang. Picture, if you will, Miami Beach’s wide boulevards combined with Beirut, and you have a glimpse at Da Nang. Brand new beach condos being erected everywhere on either side of depleted neighborhoods, still showcasing war damage (including the immense ruin of the US air base in the center of the city). But everywhere, the city seems to teem with renewal and life. Though, apparently, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as, for the first time, Katie and Adam’s impressions of the city were polar opposites. Katie’s interest in Da Nang (like many of its natives) was simply how one might profit there, while Adam wished that the trip had included at least one night in the city. In any case, they did agree that investing in one of the sweet new homes on China Beach (extending south from Da Nang almost to Hoi An) would be well worth exploring (leaving aside the unimaginable pains of owning property in a communist country).

In the midst of China Beach, just south of the city, lie the marble mountains: three jutting hills that seem to spring from nowhere, and quarried for generations to produce marble statuary. This led to tourist trap number two: we were plopped at the foot of the largest of the three mountains (identifiable by a large pagoda perched atop an outcrop halfway to the summit). However, we were not given time to climb the winding staircase, carved into the interior of the mountain, to the top. Rather, we were given the cursory 20 minutes to peruse the several statue shops at the foot of the stairs (again, undoubtedly a favor to the shop owners, who must have been somebody’s second cousin twice removed).

Of the many shopkeepers trying to wave us in, we responded immediately to a woman who, upon hearing we were American, said, “USA! Totally awesome!!!” As we stepped in, she pointed at Adam’s dimpled smile and said they were a gift from the Laughing Buddha, and he would have a happy, long life. Katie, despite having a soft spot for the woman, morphed quickly into the haggling ninja, yet again. She broke the vendor down with several tools in her arsenal, such as accusatorily shaking her head that “this one is not good quality,” laughing at the asking price, continually checking her watch, and, finally, as the price approached her desired limit, counting out “everything in her pockets,” which seemed to always be just shy of the final asking price. While the proprietress didn’t like it, in the end some money was better than no money, and she relented. This kabuki dance took a full 22 minutes, and we had to run for our bus, slowly rolling back toward the highway with the door open for us, if we could catch it.

Arriving at the Hoi An bus “station” around noon, we took what would be our first motorbike ride in Vietnam to our Hotel, Hoi An Beach Resort. Now, as an aside, the motorbike in Vietnam is probably the equivalent of the horse in the Old West. Everyone has one, everyone needs one, everyone loves his, and occasionally they are stolen or have to be put out of their misery. So you cannot experience Vietnam without venturing onto the back of someone’s Honda Om from time to time, but we recommend you carefully choose when and where (In the small town of Hoi An, it’s a daunting enough feat, let alone the Hell Rides of Hanoi and Saigon).

The 5km ride to the beach was fantastic, wind in your hair, beautiful river views (Hoi an is a few kilometers upriver from the South China Sea), and plenty of shops, hotels, wharfs and fishing sampans. The total ride took just a couple minutes and cost all of $3, though they did tack on an extra 50cents for carrying the luggage (frankly an impressive feat, with two adults on each bike and two somewhat large suitcases). The Hoi An Beach Resort is paradise by anyone’s definition: scattered villas with terra cotta roofs, backing to a picturesque river, dotted with sampans and (at night) floating lanterns, and facing the long, white sand beach along the South China sea.

Upon checking in, we realized that we had been upgraded for free to the executive suite in honor of our honeymoon. We opened the door to an obscenely sumptuous room that we will never forget. The wall between two deluxe rooms had been knocked down to create a luxury apartment with two riverfront balconies, teak floors, a dining room and sitting room replete with expensive Asian furniture, and a sauna bathroom with a stone and gravel path to the rainforest shower AND an enormous jacuzzi. The bed was adorned with rose petals in the shape of an enormous heart around two towels, shaped like swans kissing. You couldn’t even get a Holiday Inn room in the states for what we paid for this luxurious treatment.

After happily leaving reality and basking in our new-found sense of grandeur, we walked across the street to the hotels beach palapas. For those you unfamiliar with the term, a palapa is like a palm-thatched, permanent beach umbrella, like you would see in postcards of the Caribbean or Hawaii. After getting our towels from the stand and putting our backpack down, we dipped our toes into the bathtub-temperature water of the South China Sea. We happily lounged for the remainder of the afternoon on the sand, listening to the waves gently roll in, and enjoying our view across the bay of the mountains on nearby Cham Island.As we headed back to our room, you will not be surprised that we immediately stopped into the lobby to extend our initially-booked two-night stay by one more night. Let us now shamelessly plug the Hoi An Beach Resort. If you ever find yourself in Vietnam, you must take time to visit Hoi An. And should you find yourself in Hoi An, you will do yourself a disservice to stay in town. While the town has a small town feel and unique character of its own, it is worth it to stay on the beach, Cua Dai beach to be exact, where most hotels have a complimentary shuttle into town. If you happen to find yourself in need of a hotel on Cua Dai beach, please consider patronizing the Hoi An Beach Resort, you’ll be thankful you did.

Hue Out There

Our first afternoon in Hue (after arriving on the train, showering, and getting our bearings set) was taken up with a long walk from the hotel in the new city, across the perfume river bridge and into the ancient citadel of Hue. Though we didn't stop for any toursit attractions on this day, we walked completely around the walls of the Imperial City within the citadel, and strolled along the river front, stopping to explore some of the imposing gates to the citadel. Hue was surprisingly devoid of tourists this time of year, so we were able to climb the ramparts alone and take in the views without interruption from chattering Germans or tour guides.

After some strolling in the hot sun (Hue is far more hot an humid than Hanoi, and we fear this will only get worse as we move south. Can't imagine what it's like in the summer time), we decided we were both starving. After searching dozens of blocks for an ATM (we'd been told by a waitress to walk 1000 meters down one street to get to one, only to find she'd pointed us in the wrong direction), we finally found one, on the road leading back out of the citadel, so we decided to head back across the river to get a couple much-needed cold beers. We stopped at a corner expat establishment called DMZ bar. Full of Aussies and selling DMZ-themed t-shirts, this place definitely satisfied our thirst with a couple Festival and Huda beers (Hue local brews... if you're in the area, stick with Festival). Disappointingly, the menu featured mainly western burgers and sandwiches, so we decided to pay for the beer and keep strolling to find a more promising spot.

A little farther down the block, past several expat and backpacker hostels and, amazingly, a French restaurant rated in Le Michelin, we stopped at Ushi, a Vietnamese restaurant with modern, pan-Asian decor and alluring smells coming from the kitchen. We sat and ate and drank a few more Festivals before heading back to the hotel to check email, rest, and cool down a bit.

That evening, we ventured out a little later to find dinner. Strolling through the neighborhood we were staying in, we came across Phuong Nam, a tiny dingy looking establishment, but where we had our best meal so far in Vietnam last night at a small restaurant stall called Phuong Nam. The shrimp spring rolls and the fresh squid were amazing. Wash it down with a little Festival Beer and it's heaven.

Early in the morning, we headed up to our free buffet breakfast on the hotel's eighth floor. We weren't sure what we were walking into, as we've never had the Vietnamese continental breakfast before. However, it turned out to be an excellent variety of delights offering both the western continental breakfast, and better yet a wide variety of Vietnamese dishes such as steamed noodles with shrimp and veggies, banh (a translucent Vietnamese dumpling with shrimp inside), steamed mustard greens with garlic, and of course, Pho. There was also a great spread of fruits unlike any we've seen or could get at home to include dragon fruit, lychee, and other delicious unidentifiables.

After gorging on the great (free) breakfast and enjoying the view, we again crossed the perfume river with an ambitious day planned. We wanted to see the entire Imperial Enclosure with its pagodas and forbidden Purple City, as well as the Dong Ba market. Passing the Workers Party Serenity Pavilion, we stopped to admire the rusting park of ironically-placed South Vietnamese military vehicles (serenity indeed) captured in the final 1975 NVA offensive. Most of the tanks and armored vehicles had been provided by the US. The signage was far from neutral, boasting that one tank had been “Provided by the US to the puppet government to raid and terrorize the people. Captured by the Liberation Army and the people of Vietnam.”

Serenity Palace

A few blocks later, strolling the imposing moat surrounding the Imperial City’s massive brick walls, we entered the ceremonial gate of the Imperial Enclosure and paid the 55K dong to view its partially restored ruins. Though much of Hue was demolished by French and US bombs in the successive wars for Vietnamese independence, some magnificent buildings were miraculously spared or have been restored to their former glory in past two decades.
We will not even try to describe the beautiful architecture, as we could not possibly do it justice, but we will attach a few pictures of the faded majesty of Vietnam’s Imperial glory. Much to our astonishment, the Imperial enclosure was almost devoid of people. As we listened to the bustling motorbike and foot traffic cascading over the Imperial City’s walls, the juxtaposed serenity of the pagoda gardens and royal residences amazed us.

After several hours peacefully strolling, we left the Imperial City through the same Imposing gate, and headed down the modern riverside boulevard to the Dong Ba market. Like every market in Vietnam (and, for the most part, the entire developing world), Dong Ba was a wild cacophony of people, goods, raised voices, extreme smells, and forests of arms reaching to show off fine goods or pawing to lead you to shops further in the labyrinth of the market.
The market was comprised of a soviet-style concrete building (easily identified from the opposite bank of the river by the enormous COOP sign right next door) with two stories of manufactured goods (silks, handbags, toys, shoes, dried spices, tools, and tin items). Outside the building, along the waterfront, were rows of tarp-covered food stands, selling all manner of fresh fruits, meats, seafood, and vegetables, along with prepared foods from every region of Vietnam. While certainly “organic,” the smell of rotting, discarded fish skeletons, cabbage leaves, corn husks, and fruit skins left a pungent odor in the air. Maybe this is why they call it the Perfume River, as most of this refuse ended up in the water.

Implored by a seller who spoke excellent English, likely as a result of his sister in Seattle, Katie was persuaded to take a peek at his raw silk goods. After vainly trying to convince Adam to try on some “real LaCoste” polos, Katie, in an Oscar-worthy performance, countered the seller’s entreaties about the weakness of the Vietnamese economy in the off-season with a sob story about the universal truth of newlyweds having little money and needing to save. While she may not have gotten the Vietnamese price, she did walk away with two scarves for significantly less than the original asking price of one. For Katie, market shopping is more about the game of haggling, the actual purchases are a nice bonus. The Vietnamese didn’t know what hit them.

After an hour or so fighting off various vendors, we decided to snag another round of Festival at DMZ bar and grab a late lunch at our new favorite restaurant, Phuong Nam. We had another order of the dynamite pork spring rolls, a seafood salad made of fresh squid, mango and shrimp, and shrimp with crispy noodles. This meal was as good as the first, and was made all the more pleasant by a conversation with a business partner of the owner’s. He was a pleasant young father, who spoke excellent English, and was excited to hear about our trip thus far in Vietnam. He told us about his family and some background of the restaurant (that they are the one place in Hue that didn’t raise prices after getting a good review in Lonely Planet. This was evidenced by our $5 multi-course meal, including several beers). He offered friendly tips about the city and great places elsewhere in the country. He asked us about home and our families and what it is like to see and feel snow. And, refreshingly, as a side note rather than a hard sell, he told us that he and his partner operated a motorcycle tour group called Hue Riders that ferries tourists to sites around the DMZ, in the central highlands, and all over the country by request. We would have taken him up on a trip without a second’s hesitation, but we had already booked our lodging and bus to Hoi An.

The jet lag finally came back to bite us, as we crashed early that night, despite our plans to hit the discotheque in the hotel and various other piano bars… seriously, Don Ho lookalikes (intentional lookalikes, we’re not just being racist) singing the hits of the 70s? What’s not to like? But unfortunately, we crapped out. We woke up 17 hours later, feeling refreshed, but not knowing what hit us. We enjoyed the hotel restaurant once again (awesome breakfast Pho) and took a few photos from the roof deck before boarding our “Open Bus,” read “Ridiculous Tourist Trap Bus” for Hoi An, by way of Da Nang.