Hoi An behind, Hanoi ahead and I am here now in Hue.
Riding the sleeping bus was quite the trip- in a semi-prone position while the driver barrels down the dark highways and byways using the horn as a cowcatch for all the night motorcyclists. It was like being in some space capsule stowed away in cryogenic sleep was the stars wheel past. I did sleep though.
We arrived after seven in the morning in Hoi An. The usual swarm of xe om (motorcycle taxi) came by trying to give us the ride to the "best" or "very cheap" hotels in town. We had to go find Dô Dich. Using the excessively detailed information provided by Chú Van we found Cafe Balu and had a drink. Actually we were only given the name. It turned out that the staff of Cafe Balu did not know Dô Dich but Chu Phuc was the boss. So some family came by and took us to the Billiards hall where we were shown a room. Then we went to see the Grandmother of Anh's friends and she told us to come back for lunch. We walked to find to beach and walked and walked in circles it turned out. Sometime we found a place to rent bicycles and made it back in time to eat. Ba Ngoai (grandma) had made bitter melon soup, stewed pork, steamed greens, eggs and rice. It was good stuff (served with fish sauce, of coarse!). After chatting a bit we went to visit Chu Van's vacation house being built. Quite fancy- definitely his style.
Then we went to see the beach. The weather was cool and windy so it was not prime beach time; the rain forced us under cover and into the clutches of the buisness hungry restaurants. We grudgingly ordered a coconut water- it was not young and cost more than twice the usual price here, those bastards! Having not agreed on the price I guess they have to take advantage of out of towners. Next we biked the old town of Hoi An, through its narrow streets and old trading town architecture. It was pleasant. The building suffer due to excess humidity though- everthing is coated in brown algae and moss making for stark contrast with the yellow painted walls. We ate in a restaurant with a view of the river and town but mediocre food.
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I was reading a BBC article the other day about motorcycle taxis in Nigeria. The story was about how drivers are trying to get around a new helmet law by wearing calabashes on their heads instead, which is funny enough. But what really amused me was that apparently in the northern part of the countries, motorcycle taxis are called 'achaba' which comes from a phrase meaning 'give me some money.' :)
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