An hour and a half flight and a 30 minute taxi ride we arrive in Hoi An. After the uninspiring architecture of Ho Chi Minh City and Da Lat ( which is unsurprising really given that Vietnam was at war, one way or another, for the best part of the 20th century – France, Britain, China and the US of A should hang our heads under a collective burden of shame for what we have subjected this beautiful and fiercely independent nation to) Hoi An definitely lives up to it's status as a UNESCO world heritage site. Perhaps a little more than a dozen streets have survived the ravages of military conflict and been preserved in a little slice of Vietnam - old styley. Narrow streets with buildings dating back to the 18th century reflect the influence of French and a thousand years of Chinese domination; windy alleyways take you on a journey back through time and the converted shop fronts provide, what seems like thousands of tailor shops all ready and willing to knock you up a frock or a suit for less than a price of a tub of ice cream back home – the good stuff, not Iceland home brand. I'm very tempted to get a brand new bespoke boob tube and some gold lame batty riders, but Ad seems to think that they might be a bit common – what does he know, bloody fashion victim.
Unfortunately, the weather is not in our favour and of our three days here it rains for the best part of those...it's not your normal piss down rain but that sort my mum used to say gets you really wet – I could never figure that one out; is there any other sort of rain, I don't ever remember going out in rain and coming back dry – its what I would call lazy rain, can't make up its bloody mind rain, rain with no effort at all, rain that just makes everything look gloomy, never mind eh. But it's not all bad......
Oh my giddy arm pits..... Vietnam is a foodie alcoholics dream come true. Five star food that shits all over anything Jamie, Gordon or Gary has to offer and all at a price that's cheaper per head than a Waterloo Bridge soup kitchen... £5 per head including cocktail and you can dine like the Sultan of Brunei..... Then off down the rub a dub for beers at 30p a bottle or fancy cocktails at just over a pound. Fuck me all I want to do is eat and drink, once I've finished one meal I'm thinking about the next..... and Hoi An is the bursting with fantastic eateries, ranging from your posh (£2 to £3 for a main) to the more local, fuck-what-the decor-looks-like type place, that all serve deliciously mouth watering fare that leaves you still salivating after its finished and counting the minutes until the next meal. Boy we have eaten well – from spicy seafood and noodle soup, deconstructed spring rolls, caramelised fish to slices of duck breast on a bed of lotus flower salad. I think I'm gonna need to buy some trousers with an elasticated waist band.
Whenever you are in a place that is tourist focused it's inevitable that you are going to get people approaching you trying to sell you something, whether it be postcards, beads, marijuana, cocaine or “girls” (not really sure what I would do with one of those – maybe go shopping?) or even, as in Hoi An, a newspaper that had obviously been read by at least 200 other people, crossword completed and two weeks out of date – you have to give full marks for trying: usually a polite no with a smile is sufficient. On or last day in Hoi An, rain still coming down, we decide to get out of the town and go to the beach about 5 km away. The sands stretch as far as the eye can see, which unfortunately isn't very far due to the misty drizzle, and fringed by palm trees and a ferocious wave crunching South China Sea. Ad gets down to the serious business of photo taking and I'm left to guard Camilla's royal carriage. Like a Genie apparating out of thin air a little old lady is by my side with a basket of old tat. After some polite conversation and her telling me how funny I am - which I'm not quite sure how to take as all I've said is I'm from London, maybe she means funny peculiar – she gets down to the serious business of the hard sell. Whilst politely telling her that I don't want anything thank you, she seems to sense she has a captured audience as I'm guarding the royal throne, and she proceeds to go through every single item in her basket, tell me what it is and ask me to buy it... we had tissues, chopsticks, table setting mats, mints, toothpicks, tiger balm, postcards, Oreos, thimbles, beads, a fridge, an elephant and Ford Escort.
It's a shame about the weather but I've really enjoyed Hoi An.
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