Vietnam: 24 HOUR SUITS

January 16, 2007

We have had a quiet day in Hoi An.  Hoi An is a small town just south of Da Nang on a  tidal river  and a few minutes from China Beach, a famous recreation spot for the US soldiers during the war.  The war is never mentioned here to us and it is seems never to have happened except for us oldsters who remember the names and places so vividly.  Hoi An is a little river tourist town which is also a UNESCO cultural site because of its architecture from the 17th and 18th century.  No one is allowed to change their storefronts and the teeming marketplace has stood the test of time.  The main feature of this cute little town is that it is tailor to the tourists.  Over 100 shops offer fabric and 24 hour suits and clothing.  WE MUST BUY.  The guides have given us their favorite places and we await delivery of our bargains.  I am leary of such things having bought a couple of Hong Kong suits in the mid eighties when HK was the center of the cheap tailoring universe.  I think I wore them once or twice. Nevertheless, I have a couple of shirts coming and Kimberly is convinced that she has saved a fortune on her treasures.

In spite of my fears for mind and body, the trip has gone well for us.  There have been several rides of varying degrees of difficulty.  We rode about 20 miles from near DaLat to the edge of a huge downhill.  The road down was about another 20 miles and Kim did it with ease.  I rode the van down a very bumpy but paved road and was glad to get off the bike.  We had a very Vietnamese lunch and returned to the vans for a 3 hour transfer to Na Trang and the Evanson Beach Resort located on an island off Na Trang.  Our very high skill driver had the American music pumping through his CD player and we sang our way across the fertile plains of central Vietnam.  Our traveling companions egged each other on and the drive was long but not unpleasant.  In Morocco we drank our way across the Atlas Mountains but it is a different group, oh well.  The Viet people seem gentle and kind.  They smile most of the time and are very polite.  Our 52 year old driver speaks ok English and I am sitting in the front of the van.  He remembers the war, served with the ARVN, and at the end of the war went to jail for three years for reeducation.  He thinks that we could have won the war (I don’t). After his time in prison he tried to leave the country illegally and was sent back to prison for 25 months.  He didn’t want to do any more time so even though he didn’t get a job for several years, he stayed our of jail.  Because of the bad roads, heavy farm traffic, animals and scooters driving here is difficult.  He is good, really good, and keeps it smooth and with the music blaring we make our way to our boat and the short 30 minute crossing to our five star resort.

We have had little or no rain on the trip but the clouds are low and the winds are high.  We board the small motorboat that will take us to the island and I note that the waves are pounding the small wharf. I have never gotten seasick but this does not look like fun.  Sure enough, before we are 100 yards into the channel, we have a casualty, losing it off the back of the boat.  The boat pilots response to the heavy seas is to go as fast as he can and we bang are way to the island, Ana Mandara.  It is late in the day and we are dusty, dirty, sweaty and tired but our destination resort does not disappoint.  We have a private villa with outdoor shower, plunge pool, air conditioned sleeping room, and upstairs veranda and sleeping area.  Nice digs and before you can say Robinson Caruso, we are showered, dressed and watching the almost sunset.  We are looking forward to a day off from riding.  We have put together a tennis group and play early before the heat gets us.  So, even though we have skipped the optional ride which would have required going back across the channel, the resort comes with old beat up bikes that we can ride from place to place.  It is stupidly fun to pedal around on these old junkers.  So we enjoy a short beach interlude before returning to the bike riding.  

Yesterday after our early tennis game, we leave for the airport at Cam Ranh Bay.  This was a huge Naval Base built by the United States to support our efforts in the war.  We are flying to Da Nang and Hoe An.  Vietnam is big and long, the coast line is over 1000 miles long.  We are flying on Vietnam Air, the only carrier that flies domestically.  Today it is the ATR 72, a worthy French plane,  it uses propellers instead of jets.  It goes slow and low but remember it can glide.  

We arrive in Da Nang, the fourth largest city in Vietnam.  It is even more humid then we have become accustomed.  We lunch quickly at a small restaurant and with my first whine of the trip, we are joined by thousands of flies.  I don’t like sharing with them and abandon lunch.  Our truck carrying the bikes has made the 13 hour journey up the coast to bring our trusty bicycles and we ride through farms and mud, manure and bumps on flat small roads toward  Hoe An.   Our destination is the Life Resort, Hoi An River Park. 
We reach China Beach, a wide and windy road.  Most of the team gets in the Vans but the gallant and undefeatable Ms. Kim and I ride through the teeming kids who want high fives and yell Hello at the top of their lungs.  Not a hard ride but we are tired and glad to get to what must be a government owned resort.  It is very pleasant and on the river.  Not a five star but very serviceable and the shower is hot.  We who have come to buy the cheap  tailoring are thrilled.