Thick, doughy pancakes and unripened pineapple has never tasted so sweet. Perhaps my move for free breakfast was ethically questionable, but with having used Sunflower as my continual home base and with Clarisse having offered me half of her private room after I had confirmed booking at another place, I felt moderately justified in my partaking in the buffet breakfast offered to guests.
Clarisse and I both fiddled with our respective electronics and then it was time for me to rent another bike and head to the beach, and time for her to pack her bags and catch a busy to Hue.
We parted with matched American hugs and Parisian kisses and said our goodbyes, with no false promise of keeping in touch, but knowing that we had thoroughly enjoyed our time together here, in Hoi An.
The folds in the full skirt of my bright orange dress flapped happily in the wind and I peddled my way back past the rice fields to An Bang beach. Passing up on a beach side meal this time, I simply laid in the shade an read the John Grisham novel I had acquired for free in Phu Quoc. As the old adage goes, beggars cannot be choosers and therefore I could not have chosen to have the last several pages of my novel missing- but I think I got the gist.
The highlight of the day at the beach was spotting an unearthly creature. A man of such beauty I simply stared in awe as he meandered over to what I could only assume was his girlfriend. My loins were a flame and just as quickly were quickly extinguished when said mythical beast started snapping #grownmanselfies. Nothing kills a hard on faster than vanity and foolishness - a deadly mix.
Back to Sunflower I changed into 20-hour bus ride appropriate clothes, which should have a hidden pocket to house cyanide, and went out to have what I was deeming my 'last meal,' as crackers and Haribo would likely get me through the next day or so.
It was while siting at this outdoor establishment, after ordering pizza - because nothing sounded good - that a handsome older man I had noticed the day prior, and who I was quite certain noticed me, walked by and we both gave a genial hello like we had actually ever spoken and not simply exchanged telling glances and flirtatious smiles.
He kept walking, turning around just enough to let me know that he was wrestling with the idea of joining me, but as his figure faded I dove back into my bootleg Nick Hornby, literally printed on stitched together and copy paper. The Asians really do seem to love their knock offs, even when it comes to literature.
Evidently his wrestling match ended with him opting to return to the restaurant and before long we were dining together, having a great conversation, exchanging playful barbs. All with 90 minutes until my bus departed on the first leg of my journey back home to the good ole US of A. As he stated himself - 'the clock was ticking.'
After dinner he escorted me to snack acquisition and sat with me at the hostel to wait for the bus. Transportation has been far from punctual here, yet neither of us knew it would be nearly 3 hours of waiting. But no bother, in fact, when the double-decker sleeper bus arrived, in a flurry of chaos and hurry I was irked that I had to go. My new English friend chivalrously brought my ever-expanding backpack to the bus and we hugged and bid adieu - but not before I suggested he fly to Saigon - knowing full well they are no flights this week, or I would likely be on one.
This encounter was not dissimilar from the German in Da Nang with the minor exception of interest and attraction. I do hope to hear from him again, but if nothing else maybe he can simply function as a beacon of hope in a world of douche bags.
The bus being 3 hours late was actually the most enjoyable part of the journey as the first half was spent freezing my nicely tanned ass off and being attacked by bugs of unknown origin. The seats were recliners, so preferable to the train, but with only one stop to literally piss into a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere the first 12 hours, it looked like this was going to be a bumpy ride - in more ways than one.
Continual stops in the middle of nowhere seemed to only act as assurance we would not be arriving in Saigon at 5 pm the following afternoon as promised. After being forced to get off of the bus at a station in Nha Trang with little to no information I could barely believe the horror stories a Mexican fellow rider was sharing with me- until we got back on what seemed to be the exact same bus but with Adolph Ho Chi Minh at the wheel.
At the risk of sounding like a spoiled white girl, I was literally moved to the back of the bus, Rosa Parks style with no explanation given. I was simply and angrily waved to the back. I was dismissed. Evidently the front seats are saved for locals despite the fact that tourist pricing structure ensured I paid at least 3 times as much as them for the exact same accommodation, I was seen as a second class citizen. I realize I should see this as justice, or a learning experience - but really all I see it as is fucked up.
An attempt to discuss the possibility of bladder relief was of little use and when the attendant handed out waters to everyone except the white people on the bus I was partially enraged, partially amused. I felt like I was in the documentary from the 50s where little kids are divided by the brown eyes and the blue eyes and chaos and prejudice ensues. I have never felt more brown eyed.
I realize racism exists in present-day America, but at least we have the decency to mask it. This blatant affront to tourists was my first experience with it. And I hope it to be the last.
All of this in addition to people literally siting in the aisle coughing on you, leaning on you, and eating their odoriferous native fruit a little too provocatively and loudly for my liking was wearing me down. A friend of mine back in California, who shall remain partially nameless (Sean) would literally go apoplectic if confronted with this situation. Luckily my adventurous spirit and travel tenure at least makes is bearable - though respite in the food and toilet break was eagerly welcomed, if only for the opportunity to not have cockroaches and people alike invading my personal space.
An estimated arrival time of 5 pm soon turned into midnight with Morgan Freeman at the wheel and Jessica Tandy riding shotgun.
Exhausted by the time we arrived at the bus station I chose Evil Kinevel of motorbike taxi drivers and we negotiated an inflated fare for what was the first time I have been legitimately frightened on one of these contraptions since arriving. Racing through the warm Saigon night I felt a sense of comfort and familiarity as I had been in this city just 3 short weeks ago.
I had booked a bed at Budget Hostel 2 again, knowing the price couldn't be beat and the location was central. I requested a bottom bunk and was able to actually obtain one for the first time since my arrival. After a quick ice cold shower I climbed into the pod that I paid $4.50 a night for not inches from 2 complete strangers and fell fast asleep knowing the next two days would almost be just killing time until my return to New York and it's foreboding Polar Vortex.
Unable to properly sleep in like the teenagers and young people surrounding me after a night of cheap beer and cheaper liquor, I rose at 8 am to that old familiar rooster crowing its miniature lungs out just across the way.
I went down to the lobby in my bra-less pajama ensemble, having long ago given up worrying about things such as appearances in public, and took care of some real life stuff before properly changing and heading out in search of breakfast nearby - as my grumbling belt wouldn't wait long.
Allez Boo - clearly foreigner friendly - was just across the park and a banana pancake and mixed fruit juice sacrificed to the gods of my intestines in minutes flat. This may seem like a safe enough breakfast order but each and every time I order something along these lines they are unexpectedly different - for example - this pancake featured some sort of liquidy center - like a cherry cordial which I don't believe anyone actually likes. I ate around it and enjoyed the view of clogged streets further clogging lungs and utilized the free wifi for some Skyping with Boston before heading back to the hostel to retrieve my 4th book on this journey and wander.
I wandered for a good hour or so in the opposite direction of all of the sights to see that I had been aware of and found just what I was looking for - no white faces and no places that charged entrance fees. In their places were bike shops wrapped in brightly colored cellophane, making new tires look like unwrapped Christmas presents. Dress stores with dummies vaguely resembling the Kardashians before they hit it big and BeBe was considered designer and lots of odd looks from the locals as if I had lost my way - but I walked with purpose - like any good New Yorker and eventually found myself at the Mecca of all things requiring and promoting good taste- Burger King.
Some sort of cheesy nostalgia often leads me to the red and yellow doors of this establishment when traveling abroad. It feels like a very serious joke I have with myself and when ordering a meal the woman received my instructions better than most in the US as how I'd like my sandwich to be prepared. Unfortunately this did not ensure this petite portion would satisfy my taste buds as the chicken had skin and gristle, free of charge - but, on a positive note, it is the first time I have had decent ketchup anywhere in Asia. I felt as though it checked something off of my travel to do list - so all in all, I was a satisfied customer.
More waking and more solicitations for motorbike rides ensued. When I politely declined their offers, the same - 'where are you going question' followed to which I could not answer, in every sense.
Hours later I wandered back into familiar territory I stopped at the cafe at which I had eaten weeks ago, this time ordering Combination Vegetable with Rice. When it came out with octopus and beef I was disappointed, when I relayed this to the waiter, he was irritated. Clearly just having scraped the protein pieces off the plate I ate my cabbage and carrots floating in bits of beef. I literally have no idea how a vegetarian would survive here.
A couple hours of reading in the hazy sun and my book was near finished do I got up, to head back toward what I believe was District 1. My sense of direction is fairly good and I knew I was heading in the right general direction. Unlike my past days in the city, this one brought me through the posh part of town where I can only imagine Europeans come to spend their well earned Euro at Gucci and Prada for mere dongs. The night was sticky and the city alive.
When I arrived back at the market I was not only minorly relieved, but so very proud of myself for taking a fairly succinct route back to my humble abode. The shops were all closing, but that was OK by me, as I have spent more than my share to 'help the economy' over here. The fear buried deep within as to my fluid spending habits the past few weeks will only really be addresses once I am back on domestic land, as I feel it would be pointless to deal with that sort of malarkey now.
Just when I thought I could not shove any more food in my face - I saw Tutti Fruitti. Much like the shops sweeping New York City, TF was a self-serve yogurt shop that had brightly painted walls, annoying up beat music, and rainbow sprinkles! Though I am a sucker for the self-serve craze and can rarely resist, I have to give credit where credit is due and say that Madison Station Cafe, located in Carmichael, California is not only my first place of legal employment, but also the best frozen yogurt on the face of the planet. There just simply is no contest. Sorry, Saigon.
With tomorrow being a sort of weird long day, where I plan on sleeping at the airport to cut down on travel time and expenses, I went back to the Budget Hostel to pack my bag as efficiently as possible, make sure I seemed to still be in possession at least of the things that really matter - and write this piece.
Notice I didn't say shower.
I am disgusting.
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