nov 2nd. nha trang to hoi an

Saturday 2nd November.
This entry is being composed on a night bus which should hopefully take me from Nha Trang to Hoi an, although whether I will be able to walk without a stoop when I get there is yet unknown, there is not enough room to lie flat, to lie flat you must not be over 3ft 2 inches in heels. I marginally exceed this. If I margarinely exceeded it, I might be able to sandwich myself in accordingly.

So Nha Trang, a pleasant enough haunt. It has a big bhudda overlooking the town just above a pagoda and churches, I'd almost forgotten what one of those looked like. Photographer "Long Thanh" is based here who shoots stark images of Vietnam life shot solely in black and white, his gallery is located down a small side street away from the hustle and bustle but is worth tracking down as the captured images on display are if a very high quality including one of a young boy running over the heads of cattle navigating a river.

http://www.longthanhart.com/section34_07.htm

There is a heavy contingent of Russian holiday makers in Nha Trang, possibly more noticeable because of the lack of them I have encountered through the rest of my journey so far. Apparently its mainly here they come, for months at a time to escape mothers hard winters, delivered by the daily flights that come in directly from Moscow.

The resident population are, on the whole genuinely warm and welcoming with the exception of easyrider tour operators (blokes on bikes), drug dealers (blokes on bikes) and pimps (blokes on bikes). They exhibit the falseness exhibited the world over by those trying to sell, exploit or fleece.

"Where you from?"
"That way"

"Where are you going?"
"That way"

It becomes a game after a while, a minor irritation to be dealt with and played.

Nha Trang can also boast some great places to eat and drink. I received great service and food on the waterfront at a little place called "Veranda". Here was the first place I ate when I arrived in town and I swear it was the best eggs benedict I have ever been served. "Lanterns" was another where I ate a few times, the food was delicious, the service impeccable, but the friendliness of the staff and their natural willingness to just talk to you about all manner of subjects set this place apart. Every week this restaurant takes time to cook and serve up food for the poorest in the community, as well as providing basic essentials for those in need. It was for this reason I initially  searched it out, but the quality of the food and level of service was why I returned, twice.

I also found that the staff in the shops were incredibly helpful. One young lady at the convenience store located close to my hotel would bring me a basket each time I was in the shop, I always politely declined. After a couple of visits I opened the fridge and a load of small pre packed cheeses fell out onto the floor. The next time I went in I walked straight up and asked for a basket and she just laughed and then escorted me around the shop helping me pick out drinks and food that weren't completely loaded with sugar, and also no doubt make sure the the clumsy oaf in her midst wasn't going to knock any more stuff over.

Before I travelled this evening I found a small coffee shop and entered to get a latte. The girl there explained that the shop was quite quiet and I voiced my opinion to her that I thought that the  shop itself was too easy to miss, located on a busy street, but just a door with a neon sign next to it nestled above an art gallery, it needed something more visible, like an actual sign on the pavement to draw peoples attention to its existence, she agreed. She then started asking about the book I was reading and flicked through some of the pages after asking permission to do so. Its the sort of interaction and service that you just don't seem to get back in england. Hell, the owner of the cafe gusto coffee shop which lies opposite the S.S Great Britain on  Bristol harbourside often acts like he's doing you a favour taking your money off you in return for a cup of begrudgingly prep'd coffee and a grunt (if he's feeling generous). Its a world away from the way your custom is treated here, plus the coffee was pretty darned good too.

In fact every bar, shop or restaurant I went into, the level of service was universally exceptional, the lady at the hotel (St Peters) who seemed to work all hours under the sun couldn't do enough for me, helping me with booking excursions, laundry services, information and finally booking the night bus for my trip this evening and arranging for me to be collected from the hotel.

But sometimes, although rare, the language barrier can still prove to be problematic.
After getting a juice drink freshly made for me tonight to set me on my travels the lady taking my money smiled and said "uhansum"

"No..........orange smoothie" I replied to her pointing to my drink and checking the menu. There was no "uhansum"on there. The price was the same though, so no great shakes.

6am, the bus is having running repairs on a faulty tyre. The driver says it will be twenty minutes but we have been stopped for 30 already. I suspect that he only knows how to say "twenty minutes" in English, it's the default answer to "how long?"


How long to fix?
How long is my foot?
How long, has this been going on?
Ha long bay?

Twenty minutes.

All I know is that after 11 hours trying to find a non obtuse angle on this thing, we're still much more than the 20 minutes that we should be from reaching our destination.

looking at the map I would chuck down a loose estimate of 2 hours, but as long as we get there in one piece, I'll take that.

8.30, arrived battered but still mano et uno.
As I departed the bus I had all manner of offers from taxi drivers and hoteliers looking for fair fares or rooms to rent out, but as I had booked my room on hotel.com the night before I clipped my bags together, saddled up and started walking.

"Where you going?" asked one taxi driver
"Nhi Nhi" I replied, "I walk".
"Too far to walk" he persisted.
Lying shit, I had passed it in on the bus on the way into town. I walked.

10 minutes later I had arrived at a beautiful little hotel, explained that I was early but asked if it was possible to leave my big bag somewhere. The receptionist then brought me a cooling towel and glass of cold lemon tea and told me to leave my bags, sit down and have some breakfast.

Who was I to argue. Welcome to Hoi An.