Leaving Hoi An on Sunday morning made me a bit sad. I’d gotten used to the slow pace and relative quietness of the little town. Three Kiwis were sharing a driver with me to the Da Nang Airport. Of course, we struck up a conversation en route to the airport. They were actually on their way (back) to Thailand before returning to New Zealand. They complained about the breakfast at Vaia Hotel; said it was much better at whatever hotel they were staying at in Thailand. (I, myself, had no complaints about the breakfast at Vaia Hotel; rather liked it.) They’d also rented motorbikes and gone to Da Nang and Hue, but didn’t seem that enthralled by Hue. When we got on to the subject of shopping, they mentioned that two little girls had come up to them at a restaurant selling some sort of handmade dragonflies. The little girls specifically asked them for coins, which they gave to the girls. Apparently, moments later, the little girls came back, threw the coins at them, insisted that they weren’t real and took the dragonflies back! The Kiwis explained that their coins are different from the Aussies (the $1 coin is larger than the $2 or vice versa) and/or that their coins had recently changed. That’s why the little girls didn’t believe that they were authentic. Whatever, how rude for them to THROW the coins back at them!
My flight to Hanoi was non-eventful, though they gave me an actual window seat for that flight. My previously reserved driver was NOT at the Hanoi airport. After waiting for about 45 minutes, I gave up and decided to fight with the cab drivers. Employees at the airport informed me that the fare to the Old Quarter should be 350,000 dong, or about $17. As I walked out towards the taxis, a taxi driver immediately grabbed my suitcase and started loading it into his trunk. When asked what the fare would be, his response was “$25 U.S.” I told him that I would NOT be getting into the cab unless it was about 350,000 dong. He said that he had a meter. Yeah, WHATEVER!!! Then he simply mumbled “Ok,” as he finished putting my suitcase in the trunk and locked it. Somehow told me that I’d be going for a “ride,” in more ways than one. As usual, his English skills were supposedly very limited. He didn’t seem to know where the street was in the Old Quarter. When we got to the hotel, the meter read 440,000, which I thought was too high, of course. Then again, he wouldn’t give me my suitcase until the fare was paid. I resigned myself to getting ripped off yet again and gave him 450,000. Did he bother to give me change? No! Were we even directly in front of the hotel? No! Did he get out of the car to get my suitcase? No! He simply unlocked the trunk. Since he didn’t give me change (after ripping me off, anyway) and couldn’t be bothered to get out of the front seat to get my suitcase, I got it myself and purposely dragged it out rather than lifting it out, hoping to scratch his car a bit. When I walked into Art Boutique Hotel, I was less than thrilled, which they could see immediately. There had been a misunderstanding with the driver about the time of the flight, which in reality was my fault (long story). Even so, everyone was very apologetic. I inspected my room (comfy bed, flat-screen TV, laptop, mini bar, air conditioning, Western bathroom), took a shower and relaxed for a bit. Then I went to exchange money and asked the reception to suggest a spa in the area. Although the spa they suggested was close, the spa would pay for the customer’s taxi on the way there. I took a taxi to the extremely nice spa, had a massage and a manicure/pedicure with OPI polish and they called a taxi to take me back to the hotel. Of course, I asked the spa what the correct fare should be. They said no more than 20,000. The drive back to the hotel took no more than 5 minutes, if that. The meter read 140. I asked him specifically what the fare was and he said “140,000.” I said “That’s funny ’cause the spa said it would be no more than 20,000.” He seemed upset at that point, but pushed some button and the meter then said 14,000. I gave him 20,000 and he actually proceeded to give me change! What a shocker! I told him to keep the change, though, even though, as usual, he’d tried to rip me off.
That night, as I went to sleep, I cursed Hanoi and its taxi drivers!
Monday morning was my scheduled day trip to Mai Chau. At breakfast so many of the employees said “Good Morning” and addressed me by name. Either they were trying to make up for my bad first day back in Hanoi or it’s possible that they’re that attentive to all of their guests. The tour group was supposed to pick me up around 7:30 a.m. There was a mix-up, of course, as I was sitting in the lobby waiting for over an hour. The hotel manager, Chris, finally called to see what the hold up was. Someone arrived in a cab to pick me up closer to 9:00 a.m. We rushed to the van; Yours Truly was the last to board, as expected. In a nutshell, it was a long drive to Mai Chau. Once we got there, all but 2 of us were staying overnight. Everyone had lunch together. There was chicken, pork, noodles, rice, soup, etc. Lunch was included in the price of the tour, but we paid for our own drinks. The food was alright; most of it lacked flavor to me, although the chicken was really good. The two of us that were scheduled to leave later in the afternoon were to get started on our tour of the village early while the others finished their lunch. Our tour was supposed to be via bicycle. All of the bicycles on-site were a little too big for me. Even the shortest one was a stretch for my short legs! Although I explained not having a ridden a bike since my grade school days, they assured me that everything would be fine. I got on the bike, couldn’t quite control it due to my short legs and promptly ran into a pole! One tour guide kept telling the other that the bike was too big for me. Luckily, after my initial bike riding attempt, they decided to let the other man and me walk instead! The village was quiet as most of the children were still in school. We wandered about taking pictures of the houses and listening to our guide, Mei, explain their daily activities. She said that the people were known as Thai, although they’d immigrated from China. Their language didn’t necessarily sound like Thai to me, but their writing looked nearly the same. At least, with Mei there, I had her ask the locals if I could take their picture, which made things easier. One little boy was shaking my hand and hugging me when Mei insisted on taking pictures of us with my DSLR. Wouldn’t you know it? When I checked the pictures later, there was nothing. As everyone seems to do with my DSLR, when they’re holding the button halfway down and it makes noise, it’s only focusing; it’s NOT taking the photo. No one holds it down long enough. Thus, I didn’t get any pictures of what would have been my favorite photo op of the day. In hindsight, I should have handed her my point-and-shoot camera to take the pictures; most people seem to be able to operate that one. I enjoyed looking at the handicrafts – shirts, skirts, toys, whistles, braided bracelets, bags, belts, etc. The braided bracelets reminded me of those that surfers and skateboarders used to wear in L.A. in the 80’s! When it was time for us to catch the van back to Hanoi, we were still a ways away. Mei was worried that we might miss it; at first, she said we might have to run. Just then, someone pulled up on a motorbike and told me to jump on, as they would drive me to the van quickly. I jumped on, then Mei jumped on behind me. Someone else on another motorbike picked up the man that was with us and we were off! We made it back to the van in due time and settled in for our long drive back to Hanoi. Since it was raining slightly in Hanoi when we arrived, I decided to stay in for the evening rather than go out for dinner.
Inquisitive Pup at Mai Chau
Textiles in Mai Chau
A Typical Mai Chau House
Mei Modeling a Hmong Skirt
Weaver at Work
Burning the Fields
A Shy Little Boy