And the rain persists
Because of multiple delays (unrelated to the flooding in Hoi An) we arrived late in Da Nang, and were just delivered to our hotel, the Boutique Hoi An Resort, on the beach about 3 miles out of town, because our original hotel was flooded, under a meter of water. I was concerned about the safety and welfare of the locals. Turns out this is a common occurrence. Not in December — this is very rare in December — but in the Fall.
And it’s unusually cold in New York, but let’s not start talking about weather and climate and climate-change deniers. I haven’t been sleeping well: dreams of Trump Nation knot my stomach and give me nightmares.
Vegetable Farming
Saturday, December 17 In the morning we’re collected by Mong and Tuan (pronounced ‘Tune,’ he tells us. I can remember these two because I think ‘Round Midnight’ and that gives me ‘Monk tune.’ The mind is a devious thing.) and taken to a small farm village outside of town. Change in program: fishing village is out because of the flood, farming demonstration is in. That’s OK with me. I couldn’t see us crawling into coracles anyway.
We stop and need to turn back a bit. The path through the rice paddies is flooded. We need a different route to the village and our destination.
On the edge of the communal garden is a small cluster of buildings and roofed areas where we meet our guide for this demonstration, one of 10 sisters who own the farm and run this tourist destination. She’s irrepressible, always joking. And so begins a rollicking romp through the wonders of vegetable farming. We’re made to wear conical hats and brown ‘farmers’ jackets’ and I have to confess it takes me a long time to get into the fun-and-games mentality.
We’re given a sweet welcome drink with basil seeds floating in it. She tells Mary they’re frog eggs, and for a moment we’re suspicious. “Ha ha, joke’s on you” kind of stuff. But I do manage to get my revenge, though not intending to: She has us make crispy pancakes, and flip them in the pan with a toss. I get the hang of it, and she takes pictures with the little camera. Caught a picture of one pancake up in the air.
Then she tells me ‘Over your head!’
‘Really?’ I say, ‘Over my head?’
‘Okay!?!’ I shrug and flip it over my head. It falls about six feet in back of me, on the ground and Mary says the look on her face was just horrified!
Silk
Hoi An has been on TV travel shows a few times lately. Having seen the Top Gear episode where they visit Hoi An, I thought going to one of their many tailors would be fun, and we could get some cool souvenirs. I figure a silk shirt for me.
We’re dropped off at a corner in the old district. The driver can’t take us any further because of the flooding, and because certain streets are restricted for cars. But not for motorbikes and scooters. Small angry-sounding swarms of them seem to appear from nowhere. Our guide is concerned that we might not be able to negotiate this traffic, so he takes the lead whenever crossing the street, calling out ‘Sticky Rice!’ to get us to stay close. Because of this flood we postpone the walking tour of the old city until Sunday.
The shop we stop in is in the old pattern, all age-darkened wood. There’s a slight feeling of New York’s Lower East Side about it. Think Orchard Street in the old days. This shop not only sells clothing they make, they also have a little silk-making business. There are two big trays of the worms at different stages of maturity and a couple of rectangular wicker holders with cocoons in them, used to breed more silkworms. In the front of the shop there is a bucket of water with cocoons floating in it, and a special spinning wheel to gather the silk from the cocoons to make thread. Downstairs there are two looms. I’m sure this is all mostly for demonstration, but it’s cool to see.
I order and am measured for a raw silk shirt. Mary wants a geometric sort of shawl, which they say they don’t really know if they can make. Come back tomorrow and they’ll show us a prototype.
Puppet Theater
We’re taken to the hotel, and around 6:00 pm Tuan comes on a scooter to pick me up and take me to the Water Puppet Theater. It’s a hoot. From behind a bamboo screen, puppeteers work a collection of traditional figures on a stage that is actually a pool of water in various little scenes of rural and mythical life: people fishing and growing rice; two dragons fight, two phoenix mate, a troupe of eight fairies dance. This is to the accompaniment of the drum banging and cymbel crashing that I’ve come to associate with all Asian theater. It’s meant for kids, but interesting to see. Here’s a photo of two central characters, an old ‘uncle’ and his wife:
After the performance he picks me up and takes me back to the hotel to meet Mary. She and I jump into a cab and follow Tuan to a local seafood place for a bite to eat.
Old Town Hoi An
Sunday, December 18 The famous old part of town is on the right bank of the river. Three streets parallel the river; the closest one is under water. The houses are mainly two-story affairs with a courtyard. When the town floods, everyone packs up their belongings and moves them to the second floor to wait out the flood. Then a big cleanup effort begins, cleaning the mud and sand out of the lower floor and the street.
We walk along the old Chinese District, stopping into one of their old gathering places, dedicated to Tao worship, but also serving as a general community center. Then we see the Japanese Bridge, the symbol of Hoi An even though the Japanese have left long ago.
The second photo reminds me of one I took in Prague some years ago of a man fishing beneath the famous Charles Bridge. It doesn’t matter if it’s a national landmark, you have to eat!
We stop at the tailor’s. They have made a prototype of the shawl for Mary, and they discuss alterations: a little wider here, longer there. My shirt fits fine, and I end up ordering another, from smooth silk, which is cooler.
We stop for lunch at Anthony Bourdain’s favorite bánh mì shop.
Its reputation is well deserved. These are sandwiches made with small, crunchy baguettes, and filled with local ingredients. The barbecued pork/pork paté version was our favorite.
We’re tired from all this hustle and bustle, and go back to the hotel where I rest up and completely ignore you readers (sorry). The hotel offers a free shuttle to and from town, but we just slump down to its restaurant, where I order a unique local dish, cao lầu, a noodle dish with beef and greens. The noodles are actually flavored with spices and ground charcoal (I find out later).
Cooking Class
Monday, December 19 This morning is for a cooking class. First a tour of the market, which has moved back inside its home, now that the flood waters have receded. It’s still raining, but only lightly. This tour is pretty repetitive now, of others we’ve seen in Asia.
The actual lessons are conducted in a facility about 25 minutes down river by boat. I include this photo because it reminds me of cousin Reidar.
It’s a pleasant boat ride, a beautiful environment, and a good lesson. Our teacher, Mimi, is very professional. We prepare Spanish mackerel roasted in banana leaf, a seafood salad, and a chicken dish. We’re still loving Thai food best.
We return to the tailor. My shirts fit fine. Mary gets her wrap — blue and purple reversible raw silk. Beautiful.
Now that the water has receded we transfer to our first choice, the Hotel Royal, in town. Very nice!
In the evening we walk a few blocks into the old quarter. People are still cleaning up, but they’re open for business! The streets are lit with silk lanterns. Charming.
Tuesday, December 20 In the morning we take another walk through town.
I stop to take this next picture as a warning to myself: Here’s what happens to your walls if you don’t powerwash the house on a regular basis:
The river is down and the sun is up. Lunch again at the bánh mì shop. Then fly to Siem Reap, for the last leg of the trip.
Next: The Temples of Angkor
