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The approach to Hoi An was not promising as the taxi swept us along the beach road from Danang railway station past building sites for future 5* enclaves and a deserted American military base, starkly reminding of us of both Vietnam’s past and future. We had no room booked so headed straight for the most historically important hotel in the Old town where Michael Caine filmed the Quiet American – of course it was full… However we soon settle in to a great little hotel – balconies, tv, pool, toiletries, aircon, bathrobe – all for double what we are used to paying at $25US a night – the most expensive so far in Vietnam. Hoi An is a beautiful little town dating from the 17th century from when Hoi An was Vietnam’s largest seaport and it still retains the character instilled by 17th century Chinese influenced houses and shops with a very attractive French quarter. Quaint, pretty, fascinating, chill outy, arty, alternative but somewhat touristy and as predicted, reminiscent of Yangshuao in China . With over 200 tailor’s shops it is Vietnam’s centre for overnight tailoring (more of which later….) We were here to spend 2 ½ days before luxuriating at the Nam Hai 10 mins up the road so we needed to pack it all in before then. We spend the 1st day at the Redbridge cookery school learning to cook classic Vietnamese dishes. We start the day by visiting Tra Que vegetable and herb village which consists of 260 families surrounding 250 perfectly preserved vegetable plots by traditionally headed conical hatted ladies growing every imaginable herb and vegetable, all truly organic. The smells were fantastic – Vietnamese mint, holy basil, something that gives off citronella, saw tooth coriander, perfect lettuce etc, etc, all surrounded by perfectly manicured paddy fields. We were served a ginger herbal drink at one house and learn later that the lady of the house, about four foot tall and clad in pyjamas was actually a true Vietcong heroine who had been awarded numerous honours and medals by the Government. Having seen the herbs grow, we proceeded to the market (shopping bags and list in hand to actually do what we had always wanted, i.e. buy rather than just look in the colourful markets to buy the ingredients for our class. Shopping bags bulging, we arrive at the cookery school, a lovely riverside setting and an outdoor kitchen in a pagoda. Our chef Ngoc was a real character and a skilled chef and teacher. He kept our class of six entertained for the rest of the morning. We prepared and cooked and then enjoyed it by eating it for lunch. We sent our compliments to the chefs! Mid afternoon, we catch a fishing boat back to town down the Hoi An River watching the fishing but rather sleepy after our exquisite gastronomic experience! But no sleep on our agenda – we kept going – we went to the market, and that got us started….. Hoi An is also well known for its bespoke jewelery , clothing and shoes. There’s no way we are going to get clothes or shoes made but we check on the jewels… We borrow a Tiffany and George Jensen catalogue and repair to the Brothers café to look it over. We ended up commissioning some pieces and will collect Thursday! Not cheap, but great quality. The shopping bug had got us. The cobblers came next – Gill was in the market for a bejewelled sandal – no glass slippers as Cinderella she ‘aint (at least not here as everything closes at 9.30) but she commissioned 2 pairs of handmade jewelled leather thongs at the huge price of £6 a pair. The bug had truly bitten…. (see pics of suit and dress we have ordered) Jackets, trousers and skirts have been commissioned from a very charismatic, exuberant saleslady. We will see Thursday night whether we live to regret it. On our shopping list we still have lanterns, laquerware, silk sleeping bags and bamboo bowls and this sure to grow – our shopping forecast, unlike Argentina s good to excellent . Weather forecast a little predictable – so far scorchio’s all round, typhoons on horizon…. After such a big shop, we go to the Cargo club for dinner – so much for hangin’ around in Hoi An! Day 2 dawned. We are up by 6.30 due to the cacophany of mopeds outside, so we are off by 7.30. We dropped our laundry off at 50p per kilo (washed and ironed) at some food stall in the street..) and then wandered around the town following Lonely Planet’s walking tour – but taking more notice of the coffee shops and their banana kryspy’s (sic) and shops than the ancient houses and temples. We get “lost” and walk through a tucked away part of town – the non UNESCO world heritage part, i.e open sewers, charcoal makers, chickens and Vietnamese life in the raw, yet again we realise how different our lives are. The day got hotter and hotter so we were really happy to take Fiona’s recommendation and go eco fishing for the afternoon! This involved the 2 of us, 4 fishermen and 3 boats to ourselves in what was probably one of the most bizarre, random and enjoyable side trips ever. No sooner had we left dock, as usual with all boats to ourselves than a tiny flat boat came alongside and attached itself to our rear end. Gill was especially perturbed by the next stage where we were expected to transfer ourselves mid river from the larger fishing boat to the rickety flat bottomed tiny boat to join the toothless fisherman and his wife who had both definitely lived through the American War – they must have had at least four teeth between them. Hanging on gingerly as this small boat was cast adrift , at this point we were shoeless and bagless and topped off in conical hats – Ant’s with pink ties, Gill’s with yellow (which apparently is good because yellow is lucky we were told). Which was all to the good as there wasn’t a life jacket to be seen. Whilst being rowed by the elderly lady, the man in a style reminiscent of a discus throw, hurled his lead weighted net into the sea. Ant was expected to reciprocate. He did a good job and landed at least 20 minute fish – may have been enough to make to fish sauce – but not quite enough for dinner. The fisherman held the small fish to our ears (lovely..) and we could heat them grinding their teeth in anguish asking to go back into the water – so we gave in and threw them back. Ant was dripping. Net casting is the man’s occupation, so Gill was invited to stand at the back and row – she declined, gripped into her seat in fear – no way she was moving. Ant had to step into the breach. This method of fish continued when we landed on a distant beach when we both had the opportunity to unfurl nets in turn. Score – fisherman nil, Gill nil, Ant 1! They decided to give him a job on the spot. We then move on to more sophisticated methods involving huge nets the size of tennis courts suspended over the sea. Complex manoeuvres – we climb a rickety bamboo frame where we use hands and feet to turn the wheel to lower the net in to sea. Then using hands arms, legs and feet ,we wind it back in till the net rose again almost clear of water, but not quite, We clamber down from our bamboo frame and are expected to get in our 3rd boat - a small bamboo coracle and paddle under the net pushing the fish in front of us into a hole where Gill then gathers them in her bamboo basket…how the mighty fall. This was Vietnamese peasant fishing at its best . We were wet, dirty sweaty, sandy and laughing as we clamber back on board to lunch of squid prawns and fish pancakes. In for a penny, in for a pound we thought and not wanting to appear rude we devoured the lot de-veining the prawns as we went, discarding the heads and intestines into a bin. The head boatman was impressed by our de-veining skills if not our fishing. You cannot believe how peasantish and authentic this experience was. The afternoon continued with another coracle trip amongst the water coconut palms to where the Vietcong has sheltered and been shot at during the war. After another long but real fun day, we dine again in the Cargo Club. So much for hangin’ out in Hoi An….. Despite promises to ourselves that we would not waste time on this trip visiting old ruins and temples in the jungle regardless of World Heritage site status, as Day 3 dawned we were in a taxi at 6.30 heading out on the 50k to the My Som Cham temps the Vietnamese version of Angkor Wat built between the second and thirteenth centuries. Even though we entertained ourselves by posing with headless statues, will we never learn to trust our instincts? Even if the Americans had not spent years bombing it, it would not have held our interest long. As it was, this old city in the jungle was an overgrown, bombed to bits pile of bricks. And to make things worse there was not even good shopping in the souvenir shop. Back in Hoi An by 10.30am, we finally find time to hang around in Hoi An over yet another banana Krispy!
