Nha Trang

Heading back to the coast, the bus brought me to Nha Trang, which didn't look unlike many of the beaches I've seen along the Eastern Coast of South Florida, except for the mountainous island not too far off shore. I didn't feel like spending days lounging in the sun by myself and so decided that I would stay for a night and then head up to Hoi An.

Determined not to be herded in to whatever guesthouse the tour operators had planned for me, I approached the bus driver with my guide book and, pointing to the name of the one I had chosen, asked him if he knew where it was. He replied that he did and confirmed that he would drop me off in front of this hotel. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing outside the Hanh Cafe office being informed by the ever-so-helpful moto-taxi drivers that the guest house that I wanted was "very far" away, but that they would happily take me for a "small"l fee. Slightly annoyed at yet another attempt to strip me of independent decision, I agreed to let the woman at the hotel above the office to show me a room. She led me upstairs to a $6 room (a dollar more then I'd decided to pay for accommodation for my remaining time in Vietnam, having found what posh accommodations could be had for just that amount), which I politely declined and decided to set off to the guesthouse that I had chosen originally.

When I got back down to the street level, I was again accosted by moto-taxi drivers all telling me that the guest house that I wanted was "very far" and "very expensive," but the ones that they could take me to for no charge at all, were conveniently right around the corner (but of course not so close that I could walk) and could provide me a room near the beach for $5 (the news of my requested rate having spread down the grapevine). Finally, I gave in and allowed myself to be driven to the O'sin Hotel, where my standard of living for my $5 rate dropped drastically from my private balcony and TV in Da Lat to a room more reminiscent of Thailand, sporting only a mattress and mosquito net. Feeling a little more at home in this room with the cracks in the walls, than I had in my fancy room, and enjoying the teasing banter of the hotel manager, I decided to stay.

After almost two weeks in Vietnam, I was still feeling disconnected from the country, riding along only on the tourist laden surface of its depths, and found myself, for the first time in over four months, thinking wistfully of home. Determined not to waste my next two weeks pining for the company and warm embraces of my family and friends and the delicacy of home cooked food, I decided to treat myself to a day of pampering and face the rest of my trip armed with a new determination.

One of the many delights of southeast Asia, besides the food is the ever present availability of a cheap massage. I decided to begin my day with a Swedish massage and a stint in the sauna and finish off with a facial and a hair treatment (all of this for under $12). Feeling buoyed by my plans for the following day, I set off to the nearest book exchange, determined to find a book on Vietnam that would help me to begin to scratch below the consumerism and guerrilla enterprise that had permeated my trip since entering the country.

At the book store, I traded Middlesex and Snow Falling on Cedars for Phoenix Rising: Impressions from Vietnam and the Alchemist. Walking out into the street, I ran into two of my fellow canyoners from Da Lat, one guy from Israel and another from Switzerland and spent the rest of a very enjoyable evening in stitches listening to tales of travel and stories from their days in the mandated armed service of their respective countries.

The following day, I packed my bags, said farewell to my host and began my day of leisure. One massage, one really hot sauna, a facial and hair treatment later, I boarded the overnight bus bound for Hoi An.