"I think you need a shower" were the first words that the Manager of the Perfume Grass Inn uttered to me on arriving, whilst my backpack swung limply from my shoulders, late at night at Nha Trang. The kind faced Mr. Huynh Hong Huan had a fair point. I had travelled for seven hours on the train from Ho Chi Minh City and I felt worse for wear. The journey was not as romantic as I had depicted in my mind beforehand. I imagined sitting by the window, watching the farmers plough the lush vivid fields as the train ebbed and flowed towards the horizon. This wasn't so, I shared a kindergarten sized table seat with local Vietnamese folk who, it transpired, felt great communal joy in sharing spring rolls with one an other and not me. I was real hungry too, so I made do with a few sips from my lukewarm water bottle, which by then had the smell of my own weary breath.
Nha Trang Beach. Real purdy
Nha Trang is not the beach resort I had imagined. There were no bungalows or the quiet calm like that of Sihanoukville in Cambodia - more of a built up metropolis to the equal of any Spanish resort. Having said that, the beach front itself is exquisite, with humble mountains engulfing the flickering turquoise sea. Without the need to tan or the desire in having to pay for a sun lounger, I made do with enjoying a few mango smoothies from the Sailor's Club, a popular and recommended bar and restaurant by the sea. The night life is enjoyable, and accompanied with my friend for two days, Morris (a gentle and bearded young motorcycle enthusiast from Leicester who also owned freakishly child-like small hands) we sampled the many jam jars of potent and sugar laced cocktails which had the ability to wipe your memory like the flash devise in the movie Men In Black featuring Carlton Bank's cousin and Two-Face.
At certain times in life, your curiosity will betray you. One such time was when I entered the XQ Historical Village, which in my defence, looked intriguing from the other side of the street. On entering this little courtyard of several small shops, I had to wander round a museum of weaving for an hour or so, accompanied by an encroaching hostess. She didn't even ask me any questions or for my opinion, she simply followed me a handful of steps behind for the entire duration, as I fained interest in the craft of stitching and threading. The fairly swanky brochure stated the following:
"Inviting you penetrate deep into embroidery artworks imbrued with legends, memories, passion experiences..." Blimey.
Display at XQ Historical Village. Exactly how I felt during the tour
The overnight bus trip to Hoi An, the tailoring capital of Vietnam, was a lot more painless than I had presumed. You could just about make out the teems of rain-soaked paddy fields in the soft moonlight. Very charming this sight was indeed. I arrived at Hoi An bus station at 6am on Christmas Day and had to endure a further four hour wait until my room at the Nhi Nhi Hotel was ready and cleaned for me. I spent this time wolfing down some breakfast (it was free, so I ate like Henry the VIII) and spending an hour or so teaching one of the young staff some basics in English. She's a part time student and so wished to work on some of her pronunciations. The highlight was when she would point at objects and I'd have to pass on the English for her to repeat. Her grasp of the words 'Lamp' and 'Table-cloth' are second to none now. My first ever student. I was surprised that I didn't have a rage on like I always did at old work when I had to explain something simple.
When my room was finally ready I was greeted by a four poster bed with rose petals liberally scattered on the blanket. I'm living it up, baby. I felt like Prince Akeem in Coming to America and I even asked the receptionist as to the whereabouts of my bathers. She didn't look amused at this request. Santa granted me one other gift too, as my Christmas lunch at Mermaids, a fairly well known restaurant by the Old Town, was sublime. I tucked into a crispy crab meat flaked hoanh thanh - a Won Ton to you and me, and a White Rose, a signature dish around these parts made up of delicate parcels of shrimp and pork on rice paper.
However, on wandering aimlessly at the quaint alleyways at the Old Town, I stumbled on the Museum of Folklore. I hadn't learnt from my XQ Village experience and had to once again breeze in and out of a dire display of tired looking crafts and surreal wooden model dancers (pictured). Don't make me go back there.
Nha Trang Beach. Real purdy
Nha Trang is not the beach resort I had imagined. There were no bungalows or the quiet calm like that of Sihanoukville in Cambodia - more of a built up metropolis to the equal of any Spanish resort. Having said that, the beach front itself is exquisite, with humble mountains engulfing the flickering turquoise sea. Without the need to tan or the desire in having to pay for a sun lounger, I made do with enjoying a few mango smoothies from the Sailor's Club, a popular and recommended bar and restaurant by the sea. The night life is enjoyable, and accompanied with my friend for two days, Morris (a gentle and bearded young motorcycle enthusiast from Leicester who also owned freakishly child-like small hands) we sampled the many jam jars of potent and sugar laced cocktails which had the ability to wipe your memory like the flash devise in the movie Men In Black featuring Carlton Bank's cousin and Two-Face.
At certain times in life, your curiosity will betray you. One such time was when I entered the XQ Historical Village, which in my defence, looked intriguing from the other side of the street. On entering this little courtyard of several small shops, I had to wander round a museum of weaving for an hour or so, accompanied by an encroaching hostess. She didn't even ask me any questions or for my opinion, she simply followed me a handful of steps behind for the entire duration, as I fained interest in the craft of stitching and threading. The fairly swanky brochure stated the following:
"Inviting you penetrate deep into embroidery artworks imbrued with legends, memories, passion experiences..." Blimey.
Display at XQ Historical Village. Exactly how I felt during the tour
The overnight bus trip to Hoi An, the tailoring capital of Vietnam, was a lot more painless than I had presumed. You could just about make out the teems of rain-soaked paddy fields in the soft moonlight. Very charming this sight was indeed. I arrived at Hoi An bus station at 6am on Christmas Day and had to endure a further four hour wait until my room at the Nhi Nhi Hotel was ready and cleaned for me. I spent this time wolfing down some breakfast (it was free, so I ate like Henry the VIII) and spending an hour or so teaching one of the young staff some basics in English. She's a part time student and so wished to work on some of her pronunciations. The highlight was when she would point at objects and I'd have to pass on the English for her to repeat. Her grasp of the words 'Lamp' and 'Table-cloth' are second to none now. My first ever student. I was surprised that I didn't have a rage on like I always did at old work when I had to explain something simple.
When my room was finally ready I was greeted by a four poster bed with rose petals liberally scattered on the blanket. I'm living it up, baby. I felt like Prince Akeem in Coming to America and I even asked the receptionist as to the whereabouts of my bathers. She didn't look amused at this request. Santa granted me one other gift too, as my Christmas lunch at Mermaids, a fairly well known restaurant by the Old Town, was sublime. I tucked into a crispy crab meat flaked hoanh thanh - a Won Ton to you and me, and a White Rose, a signature dish around these parts made up of delicate parcels of shrimp and pork on rice paper.
However, on wandering aimlessly at the quaint alleyways at the Old Town, I stumbled on the Museum of Folklore. I hadn't learnt from my XQ Village experience and had to once again breeze in and out of a dire display of tired looking crafts and surreal wooden model dancers (pictured). Don't make me go back there.A sample of shops from the Old Town.
Guilty, on both counts*
Nha Trang Song of the Day: Daft Punk - Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Awesome tune that I whacked on the playlist at The Red Sun Bar four times. The punters didn't mind though as they all left by the second round. This still kills the version that Kanye 'Fish Sticks' West urinated so liberally over. Still can't believe he ruined our Taylor Swift's big day at the 2009 MTV Video Awards. Jackass
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDlwwKikOUI
i-Pod Song of the Day: Friendly Fires - Skeleton Boy
Nice dancey feel to this, get the album if you haven't already. They're all the rage with the kids.
Awesome tune that I whacked on the playlist at The Red Sun Bar four times. The punters didn't mind though as they all left by the second round. This still kills the version that Kanye 'Fish Sticks' West urinated so liberally over. Still can't believe he ruined our Taylor Swift's big day at the 2009 MTV Video Awards. Jackass
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDlwwKikOUI
i-Pod Song of the Day: Friendly Fires - Skeleton Boy
Nice dancey feel to this, get the album if you haven't already. They're all the rage with the kids.
*may not be true
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