Hoi An ~ An Bang Beach

Left the chaos and hyper motorcycle traffic of Hanoi and flew to Danang.  There we got picked up and drove about thirty minutes to the small seaside village of An Bang.  The driver did a U-turn and stopped alongside the road and said, “you get out here”.  We were like “here?”  There was nothing but a few scrubby brushes, a tree and a narrow lane.  He got out and helped wheel our bags down the lane to our small guesthouse, Vina Beach Pool Villas.  We were happily surprised and delighted to find we had actually reserved a week at this very nicely designed, six room guesthouse.  You never know!  Most trip advisor reviews have a taint of unrealism, and the photos are enhanced to make everything look larger and better.  You kind of fall in love with the sweet, and earnest hardworking staff, and they all plead with you to write a good review.  And they read it, usually before you leave, so you can’t possibly write anything but glowing reviews.  Their jobs depend on it.  The chance to stay in this very quiet and mellow village near the sea was just what we needed to relax and recover from the city.  One main narrow street is lined with family restaurants and little “mini marts” usually in families front rooms.  You walk along and they beckon in for food or “buy water.”  The hardest to pass up are the cute kids sitting beneath a light doing their homework, their parents position them there to lure you in for dinner.  Off the road are sandy lanes that lead to the beach.  There you can rent a couple chaise and an umbrella for the day, about $3.  It’s really a restaurant, with the kitchen back off the beach.  So they bring you beer, food, anything you desire.  One tourist had a shaker of martinis!  We laze around while the workers run back and forth, sweeping sand from your chaise with feather dusters, keeping you hydrated, and happy.  Not a bad way to spend the day at the beach.  Venders in their conical hats come along selling trinkets, but aren’t pushy.  The newspaper sellers really broke my heart as they were crippled and still managed to work their crutches in the sand, toting their papers in a shoulder bag, swinging their shrunken legs over the hot sand.  How could I not buy a newspaper?  Others had their sad tales... but really they all worked so hard for so little, and they seemed so grateful when you bought just a little something.  We had reserved a week at the beach and the last two nights in the historic old town of Hoi An.  This was an old port town with Japanese, French, Portuguese influences in both culture and design.  Twenty years ago we came here and there was very little infrastructure for tourist and the town was picturesque and quaint.  This time we were horrified to find it was overrun with tourists, most of the old charming buildings turned into restaurants or shops.  Too many people crammed into the narrow bricked streets jockeying for room to walk.  Like Disneyland, Asian style.  We hated it. So we cancelled our reservation at the boutique hotel we had planned to treat ourselves to in town, and stayed in our little village, about ten minute taxi ride away.  Later we realized we could go into Hoi An early in the day and avoid the throngs of tourists out in the evening for sunset and dinner.  We stuck to the outer streets, found a few winding alleys with old picturesque houses, and had a better time.  Wound up having some silk robes made, choosing beautiful Vietnamese silk from an array of colors, haggling with the grandmother who spoke little English but could bargain me under the table with her sly smile and knowing eyes.  We found a wonderfully quiet cafe in a faded old yellow stucco house.  Sat in low wooden chairs and enjoyed happy hour, looking out the window at the passing people.  The young, beautiful girls happily serving our white wine and french cheese tray, probably making less than we spent. This was such a treat after months of no cheese, and not much wine.  We definitely felt better after that repast.  Then it was back to the sanctuary of our small, quiet ( that’s realitive!) villa, nearby the sea.  Vietnam is a beautiful country, green and lush.  Rice fields are bright green now with young shoots, tropical flowers and trees are abundant. There are lovely ordered  vegetable gardens carefully maintained by all the old people, bent over their rows with wooden tools, in their inevitable cone shaped hats.  Most everyone are friendly and welcoming.  We rode our bicycles through the rice fields tonight, row after green paddy.  A farmer and his toothless wife were bringing their cows back, smiling at us and waving.  White herons were languishing in the ponds on skinny legs, and the frogs were starting to croak in their muddy hideouts.  Life was soft and gentle, sunset coloring the sky.  It has been a pleasure being here, experiencing a small taste of the village life.