Hoi an is known for two things. First, its adorable. Second, it's got a lot of tailors--literally hundreds, in a town of about 50,000. My school wardrobe has been getting increasingly worn over the last few years and I tore out the elbow on my favorite jacket, so I figured I would get some clothes while I'm here. I went in, chose fabric, a style, gave them specific instructions about how jackets don't usually fit me and, voila, the next day I had two new tailor made jackets and two shirts for less than 100 bucks. I really should have done more while I was here, but I don't feel like carrying that much with me, and I'm too lazy to figure out how to send stuff home. The tailor shops are quite nice--these are not sweatshops (at least the ones I was in), and many of the tailors spend the hot hours from 12 to 3 asleep with a wet towel on their face. If you want something, you have to wake them up.
Hoi An is about 5 km from the Cua Dai beach so in the afternoon we decided to go out there. I rented a motorbike--but its flat and sunny here so much less of a chance that I will crash the thing again. The woman I rented it from told me it would be 150,000 dong for the day, about 10 bucks, and I was probably supposed to bargain but I didn't. I asked her if she needed my ID, or passport, or anything. "No," she said, "You just bring it back and pay then." A lot of stuff seems to work on the honor system in this country.
Cua Dai beach is a beautiful stretch of white sand, with a view of the Cham Islands offshore. Evidently, these islands are some of the prime collecting spots for bird's nests for Chinese bird's nest soup. Anyway, there are a few thatch umbrellas set up that you can use to sit under. There were barely any people there--a couple next to us that didn't say one word to each other for three hours, and a few vendors walking around with baskets filled with fruit and other random crap. One of them, an old lady named Ly, came over and tried to sell us various things. We declined. She then took a good look at me, tried to stifle a laugh, and then pointed at me, saying "He's funny!" and cracking up.
Now, this has been a bit of a trend. I seem to be hilarious to the Vietnamese--I am constantly inspiring laughter. This might because I'm too big for the country and keep hitting my head, tripping, and doing various other hilarious things. Eventually, Ly went on her way but each time she walked by she started cracking up again. Eventually, she went over to the couple next to us to see if they wanted to buy a mango or something. This was when we heard the only sentence spoken by either of them all day, "Get away from us, go bother them," pointing in our direction. Assholes.
We bought a mango, and it was a really good mango.
The point is, that some travelers seem to think that you can't be nice to the locals because you will encourage them to, you know, eke out a living selling mangoes on a beach. And we wouldn't want that. If you've ever seen the documentary Hearts and Minds there is a scene where a Air Force pilot is speaking to a group of elementary school student, and one of the students asks him what Vietnam looks like. He answers, "Well, it would be a very beautiful country if it wasn't for the people."
Same thing, thirty years later. What a nice beach. . . to bad there are all these Vietnamese people there, who are always trying to fleece you out of thirty cents for a mango.
We drove the motorbike back and when I brought it back to the woman I rented it from she knocked the price down by a third, because I didn't have it for the whole day.
