Hoi An

In the center on Vietnam, along the river, a short bike ride from the beach, lays this quaint town, with some French colonial influences of architecture and baguettes, an old quarter, a boardwalk along the river, some small temples with beautiful art featuring fantastic dragons, horses and paintings that seem to be influenced by Christianity.

The bridge that crosses between two old parts of town is lined up with lanterns, pedestrians, bike riders, scooters, overlooking the big wooden blue boats with eyes painted on their front, bringing them to life. Huge paper sculptures of a dragon, a fish jumping out of the water, a turtle and a lion float on the other side of the bridge, waiting patiently till nightfall to be illuminated and glow in their bright colors. Just behind them, crossing over a smaller offshoot of the river, is the Japanese bridge, covered with a strong roof and guarded by dogs on one side and monkeys on the other, symbolizing the years the bridge began and finished its construction.

This is the new undiscovered Ubud of Bali. With tons of wonderful cafes, great restaurants, amazing shopping, tailored suits, jackets, dresses and shirts, beautiful art galleries, massage spas and nail saloons, cool lounges Saigon style influenced by New York installed in a heritage homes from 200 years ago, calm streets in the old quarter that in the evenings are open only to pedestrians, while others have signs permitting primitive vehicles as well, a laid back feel, a friendly atmosphere, smiles and welcomes mixed with some ‘hello, where you from, come look my shop, please by something’…but not to a level of persistence sometimes known in India.

The area is flat, so bike riding is a treat, and within 10-15 minutes you could be on a beach with palm trees. Even the busy roads here are not too overwhelming, and mostly it feels just fine walking around anywhere. The place surely has been discovered as aside from the backpackers, many posh resorts are either up and shining, or under construction. There are some real beautiful beaches up towards Danag, the main big city north from here, and many of them are hidden behind walls, marking the territory of a to be exclusive resort.

I had my Pho as well as CaoLau, a Hoi An specialty noodle dish with lots of fresh greens, herbs and sprouts, had the wonderful local fresh spring rolls, with rice paper wrap rolled up over lots of veggies and sprouts slivered into thin match sticks, or the delicious green papaya salad, with roasted peanuts, shrimp, slivered carrots and freshly fried puffed rice crackers. Pizza, a dish a rarely eat back west, somehow appeared on my plate as a break from rice and noodles.

A day of walking, relaxing, editing photos, and a day of bike riding everywhere, a day of exploring little temples, the beautiful market with the pruned old ladies selling fresh vegetables along with tied legs white ducks, sitting quietly accepting their karma, or just too tired to fight, and an afternoon on a calming boat ride down the river.

On an early gray morning we mounted our 125cc Yamaha red and black scooter, and headed towards Marble Mountain. It has thin but relatively large wheels, a wanna be motorcycle, stuck on automatic. Full service at the gas station, good for employment. The road goes from narrow to wide as we pass a few funeral processions, and find large marble sculpture shops along the side of the road. Everything involves shopping, even parking the scooter; free parking if you ‘come look my shop later, no buy no problem, just looking.’

We climbed the steep stairs, bought lots of large incense to offer all the great statutes we will encounter. The first Buddha was grand and white set on the side of the cliff, and like many other temples, had a little pond in front with a great sculpture like limestone rock with some large Bonsai plants wrapping roots around it’s niches. Bonsai, the dwarf plants, are much larger and less delicate here, but have a different quality, of mini trees with large blossoms wrapping and warping similarly to the miniature Japanese ones. Pagodas set atop the rocky peaks offer great views, or semi great views as the coastline is spotted with more resort construction. It seems that there is no zoning, no area kept aside, at least from my limited view. Caves with beautiful large Buddha’s, little temples, a cave deep in the ground offers super tall ceilings with a few skylights, a Buddha set high up in the wall, and a temple that is receiving a new marble flooring. We sit and listen to a recoded prayer coming from a speaker off a tall bluish pagoda; bells mark ends of sutras, creating a melody.

The scooter takes us a long way to My Son (pronounced: mi son), a heritage Hindu temple area, a mini Anchor Watt if you will. We stop to get food on the way, no English, just a TV hanging with all generations glued to it watching soup operas. I walk to the kitchen and point to the dishes that look appealing. Saigon Beer with ice in my glass along the morning glory and garlic, the yummy broth with greens, rice, fresh sprouts and lettuce, and a plate of shrimp in a red sauce.

After the bike dying on the way, a sweet prayer of mine, and a resurrection, we arrive. Nature is beautiful and lush, the ruins are interesting and set in a peaceful environment. We enjoy our walk through the area, but would not make it here just for this. Traveling, like life is about the process; the lunch we had, the tea place we stopped at just before with the young girl in short yellow pants and a flirty smile serving us warm Vietnamese tea and cold Lipton tea with ginger without us even ordering, the scooters carrying more than the imagination can hold, the cows led by the farmers on the side of the road, the large water buffalo working the earth with the guide of a human, the one small tractor we found that was barely a frame with a hovering seat, and wheals that were actually the plowing tool, the friendly face pointing us in the right direction, the friendly and confused face pointing us in any direction just not to admit they do not understand, the old lady on the bicycle carrying loads of greens that seem to be floating in mid air with no support, the sun setting over rice fields with cone shaped hats glowing in her warmth, a family of four slowly on one small scooter, three girls in their beautiful traditional uniform, white tops, sheer with fabric all the way down their grey pants, cut into four sections, riding their bicycle one by the other, three boys in their simple uniform appear just a moment later, riding side by side, a girl riding behind her friend on the metal rack over the rear wheel places her feet beside her friends’ on the pedals as they move together sharing the load, some old homes sit quietly along the grand new fresh painted mansions, the breeze on the face, the helmet that flies off as I lift my head too high, and the sky spreading wide.

Traveling is about these little moments that are too many to write about, too often to stop and take pictures of; it is about the experience of life as it unfolds moment by moment. I am grateful to be part of this world, to share with humans across the globe their culture and tradition, their past and present. I find myself part of them, breathing their pain of past wars and living their dreams of a better tomorrow while sharing the flavors of their present joys.