After my all day motorcycle tour with Son, I showered up and met the Aussies, J. and L., at our usual spot. I actually sat at a table in the front while waiting for them. When they walked up, they had two other Aussies with them, M. and J2, whom they’d also met at a tailor shop! It was the first trip to Vietnam for M and J2, but they’d recently come from Thailand and Burma. Apparently, on their first trip to Burma, they were so moved by the plight of children there that they’d gone back several times to help orphanages, raise donations and volunteer wherever they could. They were great fun, so we decided to drink some actual cocktails since it was Happy Hour. Happy Hour in Vietnam is a bit of a joke to us. Happy Hour is every day, nearly all day. (I shouldn’t tease too much, as New Orleans has many places that have Happy Hour for the better half of the day and serve 3 for 1 drinks as well!). It’s just that the Vietnamese don’t seem to understand the concept of what a true Happy Hour is. Some places have Happy Hour at specific times, but no special pricing. Some have the same cheap prices all day, yet insist that it’s Happy Hour. Other people try to get you to buy things by saying that it’s Happy Hour. There at Faifoo, Happy Hour was from 3 to 8 daily, or something like that, and involved 2 for 1 drinks. I went for Cuba Libre; J., J2 and M had cocktails as well, but L. was sticking with her Dalat Red. We laughed, talked and drank for an hour to an hour and a half, with the inevitable kids walking up trying to sell us everything under the moon! Oh, those little girls are sharp. They usually go straight for the men, working their “cuteness” factor as much as possible. One little girl deemed J2 “Buddha,” as she patted his stomach, while calling J “Boy” at first, only to upgrade him to “Handsome Boy” moments later. “Handsome Boy” stuck, as I continued to address J. in that manner through the remainder of our days in Hoi An! M. and J2 caved under the pressure and bought something useless from the little girl. It appeared to be a disco-ball-looking thingamajig that played “Gangnam Style.”
The 5 of us had dinner at a restaurant overlooking the river, sitting downstairs at one of the front tables, of course. Everyone ordered a dish, then we shared them amongst ourselves. Unfortunately for me, 2 of the dishes contained calamari (or “calamary,” as it was written on the menu) and another had eggplant. Beings those are 2 of my most disliked foods, I ate lots of fried rice and continued drinking Biere LaRues instead! Of course, we got the hard sell from several kids, too. One guy was selling “pop-up” cards that were cute. Some had pop-up birthday cakes, others had Eiffel Towers, others had sailboats and so on. When asked the price, he said something akin to 80,000 (i.e. $4), although J. and L. said they’d seen them in Saigon for 20,000 (i.e. $1 or slightly less). For the most part, he stuck to his guns on the price, only giving a very minute discount if we bought 2. We eventually sent him away without making a sale at all. While sitting there, we also noticed that there were boats on the river, literally right in front of us, that had drinks, small snacks and live music. If I make a return trip to Hoi An, I’m going to spend an evening drinking on one of those! After a few hours, the river had risen enough that it was nearly impossible for us to walk on the street in front of the restaurant. They kindly let us out the back, though.
J., L. and I agreed to meet for lunch the following afternoon at the fish and chips restaurant across the river. I wandered back to my hotel and collapsed into my comfy bed.
When I woke up on Wednesday morning, I felt slightly hung over! The only cure was a long, hot shower and to eat breakfast immediately. This was my day to begin taking more serious, somewhat artistic photos in Hoi An with my DSLR. I strapped it around my neck and went in search of photogenic people and spots.
Wednesday was also my birthday. The majority of my birthdays have been huge busts. I didn’t plan anything this year, other than NOT to be in San Francisco! I figured that a massage, facial, some drinks and a nice dinner somewhere would do me good, even if it was just me. J. and L. knew it was my birthday because I’d mentioned having drinks with them that night in celebration. When we met at the fish and chips place, all 3 of us were hungry. L. DID go for the fish and chips that afternoon, I had the white rose dumplings (was quickly becoming a favorite of mine) and fried wontons, and J. had the white rose dumplings as well. J. and I had our Biere LaRues, as if there were any doubt. I’d explained to J. about my chopsticks handicap. I may be Asian, but my chopsticks dexterity is at a kindergarten level. People always hand me chopsticks first BECAUSE I’m Asian. I can use chopsticks (though not very well), but it will take me 3 times as long to finish a meal! As we got ready to chow down, J. handed me chopsticks, of course. I basically told him to quit making a spectacle of me! I assured him that it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, nor would my lunch be finished until right before dinner! He had learned to use chopsticks from his stepmom, who’s part Chinese. He’d also lived in Shanghai. Well, that’s an unfair advantage, if ever I’d heard one! “Don’t tell me that you speak Mandarin, too!” I teased. Well, you know what, he DOES speak Mandarin, too. Maybe he’s a fine, upstanding Aussie gentleman or maybe he felt bad that he’s more Asian than me (!), but he insisted on buying my birthday lunch. Thanks, Handsome Boy!
That afternoon was extremely hot and humid, with not a drop of rain. I went in search of another massage while they went back to their hotel to rest. The spa I decided on was somewhere near my hotel, yet the massage was nothing special. Due to the lack of pressure, it felt more like a rubdown. The manicure afterwards was even worse. There was no base coat and it took forever for the nail polish to dry. Even so, my nails didn’t look too bad for dinner that night. Little did I know that I would awake the following morning to find sheet marks all over my nails. That was some seriously cheap polish if it still wasn’t completely dry after an evening out! On my next trip to Asia, I’ll bring my own polish!
That evening we met in front of Green Mango. Though the restaurant was beautiful, it had prices to match. D, the German woman that I’d met in Halong Bay, joined us, too. To make a long story short, she’d arrived in Hoi An on Tuesday and left a message at my hotel. I tried calling her at her hotel, as well as sending her an E-mail, but got no response. She ended up coming back to my hotel and checking in there. We’d exchanged messages via the front desk, though we hadn’t seen each other all day! That, in a nutshell, is how she came to join us for dinner that night. We walked several blocks down to a wine bar called White Marble and ordered a bottle of Dalat White for the 4 of us. After traveling through France & Italy, having a French ex-husband, an Italian boyfriend, and living near Napa and Sonoma, I’m a little biased about my wine. Dalat White kind of turned my stomach. It was certainly better than any of that Hatten Wine from Bali, but that’s not saying much. While drinking the wine, D. explained to us that her original hotel was out near the beach, too far from the main part of town. Not only that, but the limited English of the staff meant that they could barely understand anything that she said or needed. That’s why she switched to my hotel. When we finished the wine, we perused restaurant menus and settled on Sakura Restaurant. They seated us upstairs outside with a beautiful view overlooking the river. The best part was that no one hassled us to buy anything! The down side is that everyone ordered and shared again, but they messed up my order. D. had ordered calamari (or calamary, as they seem to like to call it in Hoi An). Although I’d ordered chicken, they brought me calamari, too! I didn’t want to bother with sending it back. I ate big portions of salad, soup, rice and drank even more Biere LaRues!
When dinner was over, as a fluke, we decided to cross the river to a little place that was blaring music. We were hoping for some pole dancing action, or the chance to try some pole dancing ourselves! It was a real dive bar called The Meet Market (obvious play on words here). J. and I were already a little loopy, but the drink menu cracked us up. They had wishky, Bacadi, JagerMejfter and Black Babel. If that was any indication, it was going to be a hell of an oddball night! (Something tells me that all of those misspelled spirits would be a good accompaniment to calamary.) For the most part, we stuck with the Biere LaRues, which were less than a dollar. J. kept me well supplied all night. The 4 of us decided to play a game of pool, which was an adventure in itself. Not only had L. and D. never played a game of pool in their lives, but some of the balls were missing, there was no chalk and no bridge. J. set up the table as best he could and broke. We tried to explain the game to L. and D., but half the time they weren’t even shooting at the cue ball, but anything close to them! Their shooting technique often looked like they might rip the felt and they often missed whatever ball they were using as a cue ball completely! Neither J. or myself are pool sharks, either, but everything was more hilarious in our inebriated state. A couple of people had gathered to watch our “game,” but walked away quickly in confusion and/or disgust! Two people even challenged J. and me to a game, but we politely declined, to their benefit and to what would surely be our further embarrassment! As the next couple took over the table, they asked me where the triangle was and whether we had any of the balls. I assured them that not all of the balls were there to begin with! L., who’s probably in her 60’s, had asked at one point if she should just go back to the hotel, but we didn’t want her to leave. She eventually sat outside to get some air while D., J. and I continued being obnoxious. We changed the playlist to include “Gangnam Style,” danced wildly, engaged in a little limbo, wrote on the wall and generally created mayhem. A guy who’d been dancing with various women suddenly grabbed L. out of her seat and had a few rounds with her on the dance floor. After that, several young Vietnamese guys surrounded her and were carrying on conversations with her. “That one must be all of 24,” I teased her. “He’s 21!” she corrected me! Meanwhile, I wanted to take pictures with J. underneath the sign that said Meet Market. I gave my cell phone to D. (because my memory card in my camera was full, naturally) and dragged J. over to the sign. As she was getting ready to take a picture, he grabbed me and lifted me up, to my complete surprise. Some other guys helped lift me up, too, for the photo’s sake. Most of the cell phone photos came out blurry, but it was funny nonetheless. When the place closed down at 2:00 a.m., some of the clientele asked us to join them at the Backpackers Bar, which was nearby. We were more than ready to go to bed, though. As D. and I walked in the direction of our hotel, several of the young Vietnamese guys on their motorbikes were escorting L. and J. back to their hotel. All down the street, I could hear “Mom, you come with me. I give you ride… slowly.” Others simply kept calling her name. It may have been my birthday, but SHE was getting all of the attention! LOL!
For having nothing in particular planned, this was one of the best and most fun birthdays I’ve ever had, with people that I’d met a mere 4 days earlier!!! Maybe solo birthday travel should be on my agenda every year!
At Sakura Restaurant
D. Shooting Pool
Me In the Throes of Inebriation
The Drink Menu