Upon returning to Hanoi, our group has expanded, but I'm still the only yank in the ranks of Brits. The blond Three Amigos and I are now joined by Louise and Elaine, two Irish nurses from Cork. They're old friends and just beginning their global journey which includes a six-month nursing stint in Cairns, Australia. Louise is tall and lanky, soft-spoken and introverted, endlessly smiling. Elaine is more brash and outgoing and is an endlessly persistent shutterbug. Somehow the night before, these two Irish lasses believed me when I informed them that my name was "Francisco Ferdinand III", a thirty-seven year old whose recently had major work done to my eyes, jawline, and neck. Come on ladies, I don't look anything like a Francisco. "I can total see where you had the work done," they say. Thanks.
We're joined by Amit and Jeremy, two more Brits from Liverpool who are in the final months of a half-year round-the-world trip, whose North American leg inexplicably included Miami but not New York.
I grab a quick snack of a Bahn Mi burger at Hanoi Backpacker's bar. It's stuffed with onions, carrots, cilantro, and topped with caramelized onions, lettuce, and tomato. The sandwich is delicious and filling, albeit overcooked. Someone should really tell the chef that pressing down on burger patties mid-grill is a crime analogous to manslaughter.
Together, our new-and-improved group jumps on the overnight bus to Hoi An, on the central coast of Vietnam. I'm wearing my third pair of flip flops at this point, previous two stolen in the endless musical chairs game that is maintaining one's footwear in Southeast Asia. They had no stores on Castaway Island in Halong Bay, so I stole a pair of distressed navy blue rubber slippers that all the Vietnamese wear. They're hideous and incredibly uncomfortable. I can feel every pebble plus the aesthetic is straight out of One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. Especially when paired with my beard which resembles the love child of Wolverine and a neanderthal. Watch out ladies.
The coach bus has bi-level sleeper beds for the eighteen-hour journey. It's one of the rare times when my height comes in handy as I stretch out to sleep while my travel mates contort into various fetal positions.
***
 |
| From Google |
 |
| From Google |
 |
| From Google |
 |
| From Google |
Hoi An is a spectacular breath of fresh air compared to Hanoi's chaos. The town is set right on the Thu Bon River and is only 5km away from the beautiful Cua Bai Beach. Hoi An was originally a trading post in the 1600s and combines Chinese, Japanese, and French influences. The city barely has any traffic and is replete with small, charming buildings and quaint riverfront restaurants bedecked in spherical paper lanterns. We're staying at Greenfield Hotel, a ten minute walk from the town center. The accommodations are a bit luxurious for my tastes due to the mini-fridge, TV, AC, bathtub, and pool. And at $40/night for our four-person room it is ungodly expensive for Southeast Asia. I think I could hold a royal wedding in Thailand for that same tariff. I'm sharing the room with the 3 stooges which, due to the girls' excessive shedding of fake and real hair, reminds me of visiting my uncle's house as a kid when he had two enormous basset hounds. After two days, I'm convinced I've swallowed at least two pounds worth as has the shower drain.
 |
| A friend helps himself to a sip of my cocktail |
Lunch is at Green Moss, an airy restaurant and cooking school. After the long journey, I immediately grab hold of a Vietnamese coffee, dark and potent like espresso, with a pouring of condensed milk. Lauren, Harriet, Becky, and I share Hoi An's specialties which help make the coastal town one of Vietnam's premiere culinary destinations. Banh Xeo is a savory omelet of herbs, sprouts, pork, and shrimp that is placed in fresh rice paper with herbs, folded like a spring roll, and dipped in a curry sauce. Even better is the White Rose, a local delicacy of small, transparent shrimp dumplings shaped like roses, with the filling forming the bud and the excess wrapper forming the leaves. The flowers are topped with fried onions which I would gladly put on ice cream.
Continuing our food binge, we have dinner at Cargo, right on the river. Like our hotel, the restaurant is incredibly lavish compared to the rest of my trip. What's this cloth fabric I'm supposed to put on my lap? This is quite confusing as I'm used to breaking off bits of toilet paper from the rolls that decorate typical Southeast Asian restaurants I frequent. Plus this restaurant serves wine! -- a foreign liquid that I have not consumed since leaving the states. As the oldest, and only American, I choose and we get a bone dry Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc with hints of pineapple and passionfruit. It's the perfect choice to wash down the fresh spring rolls stuffed with poached shrimp, crisp-skinned barbecued pork, basil, mint, and rice noodles. Kashrut, eat your heart out. Other appetizers include Hoi An's signature Cao Lau, a stir fry of thick fettuccine-like noodles with bean sprouts, croutons, herbs, lettuces, barbecued pork, in a savory broth. I sample a decadent tomato soup, odd for Vietnam and the season, but it's perfectly balanced, fresh, and only lightly sweet. The New Zealand wine also pairs well with my main of Mackerel smoked in banana leaf. It's Vietnam by way of the Upper West Side. Although Cargo is highly regarded in Hoi An for its local Vietnamese fare, Louise orders pepperoni pizza. She has immediately become my new project. And with that move, she's starting way in the hole. Harriet also orders Western food (lasagna), but she has delusionally picky eating habits, being able to count on both hands everything she enjoys eating. Her favorite food as pasta covered in baked beans and cheese. So in other words, she's beyond hope. Taste preferences aside, we all dig into the desserts of creme brulee, ten-layer chocolate cake, and passionfruit cheesecake.
 |
| Pork and shrimp summer rolls |
 |
| Shrimp with garlic, pepper, noodles |
 |
| Smoked mackerel in banana leaf |
 |
| Stuffed squid |
No comments:
Post a Comment