Surfing H.U.E
Trip Start
Apr 22, 2008
1
17
26
Trip End
Sep 01, 2008
Hue,
Vietnam
Sunday, June 22, 2008
A side trip from Hue are the beaches of Thanh An, a stretch of sand on a bridge accessible island just 15 km north of the city. Without a map nd unable to speak a lick of Vietnamese Kate and I entered a motorbike and took to the open road. Our guest house told us to simply follow the road located next to the accommodation and we would eventually run into the beach. What they didn't tell us is that the roads twist, turn and converge with many other roads, all headed in a similar direction and all unmarked.
Vietnam's Largest Flag
40 minutes later in the middle of rice paddies without a dot of sand or water on the horizon we figured we had done something w4rong. A little pantomime at roadside cafes and gas stations along with a lot of quizzical looks as to how the two of us ended up so far off track eventually led us in the right direction. Our two hour scenic route for what should have been a 156 minute journey was a complete comedy of errors but we were happy to make it to the beautiful turquoise waters and nearly vacant beaches of Thanh An. We were the first motorbike in the parking area, which was shocking given that it was 12pm and stinking hot. We tucked ourselves into a beer and a book on some beach chairs below an umbrella, relishing the deserted beach and the bath water temperatures of the sea. One thing struck us as very very odd. There were several people roaming the beach in an attempt to sell food, even though we were the only ones around, and close to 1/2 mile of unoccupied umbrellas stretch collecting dust in both directions from our location. Guess we were there during the off season. Guess again. 3pm rolled around, the sun lost its mid-day bite, and the sounds of motorbikes gathered like storm clouds. Within 30 minutes half the beach had filled and an endless stream of bikes queued to get a parking spot. It was like the Sturgis Harley rally, only with mopeds. By 4pm there must have been over 100,000 Vietnamese on the beach and two lone Americans sitting eyes wide and mouths agape in complete awe of the chaos.
Emporer's Reading Room, The Citadel
Every speck of sand was taken with huge families sitting Indian style in a small plot (basically shoulder to shoulder). The water looked like a life guard's worst nightmare. Half the swimmers did not have bathing suits and entered in jeans, flannels or whatever they decided to wear to the beach that day. One guy sported a womens g-string which I am pretty sure would land you in jail in half of the continental united states. Then the vendors arrived. Women slung pieces of bamboo over their shoulders and balanced large (15 gallon?) pots of grub to hock to loungers as they traversed the beach. This was no ordinary grub. Steamed crabs, rice, curries, thick soups, clams, unidentifiable pates steamed in banana leaves. Children sold chips and others carried heaping bowls of fruit. The kicker were a few people that had converted the back of their bicycles into wood burning stoves and were steaming vegetable or pork buns in real time for the patrons that were placing orders.
A stroll down the beach led to countless families yelling "hello". A "sin chow" reply (Vietnamese for hello) would lead to belly laughter from the group. No one was afraid to stare at us with wonder as the only to white people in this Vietnamese extravaganza. Kate, being particularly well blessed in the chest, was ogled chest to to, chest to toe, with nary an eye wasting the time to see what her face looked like. Wearing board shorts and some Prada aviators I looked especially foreign and heaps of people asked to try my sunnies on. After putting them on they would take pictures of themselves saying things like "cool man" or some really obtuse English word. It was a scene that was hard to comprehend given the solitude we had enjoyed only a few hours earlier. Hanging out with Vietnamese in a place that the locals go on holiday was one of the best experiences of the entire trip. The two of us were left asking each other every 5 minutes "Is this really happening?".
We left the beach like alabaster and scarlet zebras, all stripey from our two hour motorbike ride in the mid-day sun. Pulling out of the parking lot a girl on the back of her parents motorcycle stared at us while we followed them back into town. She had the now familiar expression of Prada and tits written all over her face.
