“It’s raining men, hallelujah, it’s raining men, amen…”. Actually, it’s not, or else I wouldn’t mind so much, not even if they were small Asian men with very long fingernails. It’s not even raining cats and dogs, that at least would be a bit interesting. This is just continual, torrential rain and it’s getting me down.
The train journey from Hué to Danang supposedly rates as one of the best in the world, but for me, it doesn’t come even close to the stunning Nice to Monte Carlo route. Granted, it’s a pretty journey and you pass alongside some great little beaches only accessible by boat, but it’s difficult to see too much through the water pouring off the roof and down the windows. I’m hoping that everything I’ve read about Hué being known for it’s rain and Hoi An being so much drier will prove to be true, so I’m almost holding my breath as the trains pulls into Danang, waiting to feel some sun on my face. No such luck. We step out of the train, back into torrential rain, and into a taxi for the 40 minute ride into Hoi An.
We’re staying at Thien Thanh Hotel (www.hoianthienthanhhotel.com) which means Blue Sky. I wonder what Vietnamese for Pissing Down is? We have a choice of rooms; a small room at the back, with a balcony and a lovely view across (flooded) fields, but the kids will have to share a bed or, for $5 a night more, a huge loft room, with 4 beds but no view and only a couple of (very small, floor level) windows. We take the loft option as we figure space is more important than a balcony, especially with the mosquitoes below who are enjoying the pools of water everywhere.
We have to stay here for a few days whilst I wait for delivery of my replacement phone so we set off to see what’s here. Tailors, tailors and more tailors for a start. In fact, just about every other shop is a tailors. Will’s resisting but I’m keen to investigate so get myself measured up in a couple of different shops for some dresses and trousers. I take my Missoni dress into a third and ask them to copy it and we get a couple Ruby’s dresses copied whilst we’re there. I have mixed success and ironically, the least fancy looking shop makes the best fitting dress, needing only a very minor adjustment which takes literally 5 minutes to do, and a pair of black linen trousers which need no adjustment at all. Might as well get another one done whilst I’m here – they are only £7 a go after all. Will’s eventually decides that he wants a piece of the action so we check out the two best known and most expensive (of course) tailors in town. Adong, which is just ridiculously expensive (by comparison) and Yalay, which we decide upon. He gets 3 double-cuffed work shirts, 2 casual linen shirts and 5 pairs of trousers for £120. And postage home couldn’t be easier as two post-office employees come to our hotel with a box, tape and scales and it costs just £20 to send 7 1/2 kilos home.
In between almost daily fittings, we visit the old merchants houses, a family temple, the Cantonese Meeting Hall and the Japanese Bridge. We find a great restaurant/bar called Then and Now with great food and art, and even manage to squeeze in a 2 hour boat trip up the Thu Bon river. Hoi An was one of South East Asias major international ports from the 17th to the 19th century and ships came here for silk, fabrics, porcelain and lacquer-wares, all of which are still very much for sale today, only on a much smaller scale. It was largely untouched by the American War and the old town in another UNESCO site, preserved in all its glory and thankfully closed off to traffic, making for a gorgeous place to wander around without fear of being run down.
One morning, it’s actually stopped raining and we head for Cua Dai beach, a 30km stretch of wild, yellow sand lapped by slightly scary waves. It’s a gorgeous beach for a walk, until you reach the area where the palms trees have been stripped back and the 4 star resorts have been built. Here, the sea turns a rather lovely shade of oily brown and dead, bloated fish scatter the beach, along with lots of tar which coats all of our feet. But not to worry, the hotels are there with white spirit to clean it off. Shame they don’t just clean up the beach in front of their resort instead.
Harley’s picked up a really nasty chest infection which needs anti-biotics to treat it. I’m pretty certain it sleeping with the air-con on that’s making us all sickly. I’ve got a really bad throat with swollen glands and Will’s coughing up all sorts. Not sure it’s just a coincidence that Ruby, who’s on a strict 5-a-day of fruit and veg, is the only healthy one.
I’m home alone for the fourth consecutive Saturday night whilst Will has another hot date (although he swears he’s watching rugby) with a packet of Oreos and a bottle of red (plus sleeping kids). In the darkness, I sneak a second Oreo from the open packet and do a hole-in-one onto my mouth. Something tastes a bit strange. I pick up the packet, take it into the bathroom for some light and peer inside. It’s swarming with ants and I have about 200 crawling around in my mouth, some of them biting me!! Brushing my teeth at 100mph doesn’t even get rid of them all and swilling out with water doesn’t drown them. I’m bitten several times and the inside of my mouth feels like I’ve eaten 20 chillies! Does this mean that I’m now classified as a meat-eater? Urgh.
It’s still raining and I’m starting to feel like Anne Franks stuck up in this loft room, so we plan on heading further south to Nha Trang where we can hopefully do some diving at one of the islands.
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