Day 11 - Hoi An - 17th September 2014 - Wednesday

Hoi An - Day 11 - 17th September 2014 - Wednesday

Breakfast is fruit followed by Japanese sushi and miso soup and the group are still into the snags and toast. Gerald has lifestyle had a big swim, and I have done some writing. We leave the hotel in the bus, showered and deodorised, and within Five minutes of slighting the bus in the Ancient City with Van, rhymes with fun, are a sweating red faced soggy team. Karhrine and Ashley have headed back to the bus, five minutes in. The heat is oppressive, and we walk through this tiny city, filled with French inspired buildings, a river along which sampans float, there are no cars nor scooters allowed in the town, and you can walk with safety, it costs $6 for a multiple,visit ticket to the city which gains you entry to about 22 temples and various museums, we could spent a month here easily. Unlike brash, loud, genetic Hanoi, this is peaceful and charming, people smile and call greetings, it's stylish and clean, and meandering is a pleasant activity. We meet Cherry, our sweet faced smiling market tour guide, and she is enjoying using her English, explaining different fruits and vegetables, teasing us, asking questions which we largely get wrong to her delight. The market is like many in third world countries with trestles overflowing with poultry, fresh meat, vegetables of every sort and many I have never seen, a mouth watering array of fruit, and women, women women. The men are drinking coffee to which they add fish sauce, in the coffee shops. Sitting, squatting, standing, bicycling, shopping, selling, they appear to be the backbone of this country. We buy some clever implements, a couple of dollars each, chopping utensils and graters, and the very item we bought on Haling Bay for $7 is $1.50 here. I am fascinated, but Carol is appalled at the meat and fish. We see a motor bike laden with plastic bags of fresh meat on either side of the seat, baking in the sun. We see a terrible terrible sight. Rooster, enclosed in a plastic bag, barely alive, and desperately trying to escape, flopping in the heat, it is so distressing, I cannot bear it. Yet this is their culture. They only buy live poultry, like this, and kill them at home.

Morning Glory Cookery School - Miss Lulu is 8 months pg, Cherry is our guide, grinding rice, pulling noodles out of machine in assembly line, chopping fine slices of nOodles ..... I ate jelly fish salad, silk worm salad, frogs legs, ?? Brains, pigs ear salad, but not the duck embryo ..." We made fresh spring rolls, green mango,salad, chicken in five spice grilled - had fried pancake with green banana and star fruit, and coconut ice cream with grilled coconut slices with salt.

Trish thinks she has had her Ipad stolen at the airport yesterday. Running to catch up,with Gerald there, I chastised him for leaving his bag unzipped with his laptop exposed, he protested he hadn't, and we now think his may have been targeted and for some reason, it failed. NB later, Laurie thinks he may have forgotten to pick up his iPad when he came out of the questioning room.

We bargain for beer en route back to the bus, Quang switches from a a mild mannered, quiet and slow speaking gentleman to someone who sounds as angry as if his mother had just been insulted, but we get a good price. About $1.50 a can and cold. He likes Saigon, Hanoi, and Van der Meer? Gerald has been to the ATM and fortunately, this one returns our card, and good news from Quang, the bank is in possession of our MasterCard and upon receipt of a confirmation email from us, will destroy it. This pleases Gerald as he has many monthly payments attached to this card, and cancelling it on this trip will cause all sorts of problems.

The heat saps our energy, my freshly washed hair is wet, as are my clothes. We have sent a bag full of laundry to a friend of Van's, as the hotel is so new, they don't have laundry or room service operative yet. I wash what I am wearing out, and we make a dash for the pool. This is an elegantly designed affair. In a very large rectangular courtyard, on several levels, with infinite edges, a 'warm bath' on the highest, a long centrepiece through part of it which looks like a runway for models, there are waterfalls spilling, and all made of a grey granite, surrounded by green chequer board grass and squares of granite, Palm trees, and flowers. Beautiful. Our room 2006, opens on to this. The hotel is two storied and I plan on seeing what is up there, I think Diane could run Tantra here very inexpensive,y, and the daily tariff includes a massage and steam, meditation, and Tai Chi. The staff, brand new to the job, are the smiling east, friendliest, most helpful bunch I have ever encountered. As Gerald's does laps, I lazily breaststroke up and down, the group filter into the pool, and congregate in pods. I move to the top pool, a smaller version several feet higher, with a wet edge which tumbles to a second, and third pool, it is shaped gently for,the form of a body, and I lie, with my arms resting on the wet edge, as it slopes gently downwards, following my body, like a giant sun lounge, and watch Gerald the the pods. The sun warms my back, the water temperature is like a warm cup of chamomile tea, and I doze gently. Shortly Gerald calls, 'Sandra, look around you!' And there dotted at emulate intervals around the pool are twenty staff, I count, wearing loose cotton clothing, performing Tai Chi, and as I turn back, an exquisite looking woman with long black hair, baggy silk pants and a pink long blouse is leading them, standing on a high podium, and they are moving as gracefully as a corps de ballet. It's such and unexpected and graceful vision that tears spring to my eyes, I am witnessing such poise and beauty, such humility as they arch their feet and hands, their eyes gazing ahead to something I cannot see. I look back, and this ungainly, loud, large pod we are travelling with, are waist deep in water, doing Tai Chi. I learn later that the manager of the spa Eveline, is watching from the second level, and that she too, got goose bumps and cried as our group joined in. The staff do Tai Chi at the start and end of every shift, this is an establishment that takes its health and the health of its patrons, seriously.

We have a massage booked for 4 pm, and I realise that we are entitled to a treatment every day, included in our daily tariff. So that was why they asked us at 8pm last night if we wished to have a massage then! The spa centre is divine, all pale grey granite, the simplest of decor includes red silk flags which fall from the vaulted ceiling to the floor, pale Linen covered couches, marble floors, and staff. wearing designer Vietnamese pyjamas, their black hair decorated with flowers.

I must tell you about the treatment at this exquisite spa. We are greeted by three smiling staff, who bring iced towels and what I think is a shot of wheat grass, the staff enquire with interests about our day, and then to select the type of massage we want. Relaxing aromatics, or a more 'healing certain areas' one. We opt for the first and choose a steam room rather than a sauna. It is glass and thick with steam, with some kind of herb like eucalyptus oil, I can hardly see Gerald, and we share a rom in the women's section, as we are the only two here. Fifteen minutes passes fast and they ring the bell, and we emerge, boiled, and have a cold shower. The. We are taken to our double massage room where we are introduced to our masseurs, Thao is 'mine', and they smile and explain we must wear the paper knickers. They leave, Gerald puts them on and says they don't hide much, it's true they don't, my husband looks decidedly vulnerable in his see through paper pants. The room is gorgeous, grey slate, white matching massage tables, and glass doors to a change room and another to a toilet. Thao explains the Tibetan bowl which she will use to clear the space, Gerald and I sit facing each other on our beds, and she explains a tray of small bottles and powders, the. We are instructed to close our eyes. She takes a pinch of sandalwood powder and places it at our third eye, and softly says 'Make a wish for your well being'. I wish for what I always do, my yoga mantra, 'Please may I be strong and healthy and energised, emotionally mentally physically and spiritually, and may I always have love and forgiveness in my heart'. We lie face down on the most comfortable massage table ever, and through the hole I can see a bowl with two perfect white blooms beneath me. Thao is a master, and I learn later, the one with most experience. Her pressure is perfect, her touch both professional and nurturing, she knows her business well, and I am stretched out like pliable dough. The music is unusual, soft and relaxing, and it smells of sandalwood. I am in heaven. I have had massages in a few African countries, the UK, France, Australia, the USA, Mexico, Bali, Lombok, and China and I think this one tops the lot. At the end of the massage, Thao deftly scoops my hie into a small bun, I want to learn to do this, I feel like a queen.

Emeline is the French manager, a delightful you woman, who later today organises through one of her ever helpful staff for the tailor to come and measure me for just such an outfit. They sell them here, but are made for giant sized American men by the looks of it, for $40. Half an hour after our treatment ends, the tailor, Vi, rhymes with Ve, as for my Mom Vera, is in our rom with a hotel member as interpreter, measuring me up. I choose three shades of linen, Gerald says orange, brown and green, I say tangerine, latte and pistachio, for $30 a set, and shortly after that we are on the back of her motor bike, in relays, in the Old City, going from shop to shop, she has five, Gerald purchases three bamboo cotton t shirts for $21 each, and she shows me rolls of fabric to choose from for a pair of black silk pants. Ve did not need an interpreter, her English is excellent, and clearly she is a stellar success story, and she ferries me back to the markets we visited this morning, where I wait for her to bring Gerald. I cannot believe I a,whizzing through the old city of Hoi An on the back of a scooter! The place is vibrant, abuzz with smiling people, very little traffic, coloured paper lanterns and helpful policemen. You need a $6 ticket to gain access into the old city but we have left ours at the hotel, no problem says Ve, you can go through the back area of my shop, and if asked, just tell them, my ticket at hotel. And so it is.

It is dark now. and we walk with safety through cobbled streets and find a perfect spot sitting on rattan chairs, sipping wine and beer, Lucky is our attendant, and loves to practise his English. This is a combination of Paris, Venice, and Bali, and so incredibly romantic. Dozens of small restaurants line the river front, soft music plays, the architecture is both grand and simple music plays, and it is very clean. We overlook the river, and a panorama of floating candles and sampans, taking couples of romantic voyages, each with a hanging light, a different version of the gondola. There are thousands of coloured paper lanterns drifting in the breeze on the opposite side of the river, which is the new city, about twenty years old, and children laughing and playing on the streets, selling candles, toys and intricate cut out paper cards in red and white. One cutie, about 9, saying 'Come on handsome!' to Gerald. Gorgeous children, already in training for marketing, and hard to resist. There are no cars nor motor bikes allowed along this heritage listed strip, and we see one irate and agile security man leap angrily and volubly into action, shouting at two men on a scooter attempting to drive down.

We spend a pleasant hour or two watching people walk by, a fair few tourists, bicycles, lovers, families out walking, and talking to Lucky, who is 25 and 'too young for marriage' he says. We reluctantly leave this lovely romantic spot, we are no testing dinner tonight given the amount of food we have consumed today we are not hungry, and walk through some backstreets to the main road, where a cab costs $1.50 to get us back to our hotel. We decide to check out the Discotheque next door, and last two minutes, as an older lady with a voice reminiscent of a chainsaw is belting out a Vietnamese number, and holding something I have seen in display in several shops, a large garish bouquet of flowers made of fabric. I think. There is a beautifully dressed man and woman swoop around the dance floor, doing impossible dips and turns. My head is beginning to ache but the locals are loving it, and as we walk away, she gets uproarious applause. Karaoke is big here. I may try it. I couldn't be worse then her.

A shower and this gorgeous bed raised above the floor a couple of feet, and accessible with a couple of steps awaits me. Either side of the bed are what look like two plain glass jars, but when a button is pressed, they flicker into a soft light, like a Tilly lamp. So clever.