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.
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.
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