Hi all Okey dokey then, time I guess to tell you all about the shopping in Hoi An. One word. Fantastic. But even that doesn't really cover it. After about 5 hours sleep (for me and Kimbers at least), we were up and off down to the shop the Easy Riders had taken us to the day before. We didn't have to go there, but we figured it'd be a good start. The reason we didn't have to go there, is that there are hundreds of these shops. In fact, it's pretty much all there is in the whole town. Oh, and shoe shops. Needless to say, the oestrogen was rising to titanic proportions, and even I was looking forward to indulging in a couple of (imitation) Armani suits and a couple of shirts. We arrived at the shop and sat down to begin the long and arduous task of deciding what we wanted. They just have piles of magazines and catalogues which you look through, then choose the material you want it in, then they measure everything (well, not quite - I wouldn't want to scare the poor girls :o) ), quote you a price and tell you to come back the next day for a fitting. The main problem, and believe me it is a problem especially with a huge hangover, is the number of choices you have to make. It was f***ing mind boggling. Piles of magazines to look through and mark, hundreds of fabrics to guage and decide on, not to say the colours. But we dove in and after about 6 hours (no s***) and a hungover Kimbers arguing with the woman who was supposedly helping her, we were done. And we bought shedloads. Literally. I can't speak for the others, but I ended up with 9 suits of various colours and cuts (including a white one just to show Fraser it really is possible to wear one without looking like an extra from Saturday Night Fever), 9 shirts, one full length coat, and a duffel coat. I would have bought more, but it just seemed to be a bit ridiculous. Seriously. 9 suits. 9 shirts. One full length coat. One duffel coat. For a grand total of 360 quid. I mean, what can you do? Eventually, when we were all finally shopped out (we'd have been there longer if Mand hadn't been helping the hungover handicapped duo of me and Kimbers in everything from cloth to colour) we headed off for some food and a serious sit down and relax. Then off for an early night. Tomorrow was the Easy Riders and a trip to My Son. By the time I arrived downstairs the following morning, one of the guys was already explaining the life and times of Ho Chi Minh along with a brief history of Vietnam to the others. I tell you, we could have not bothered with all the museums and stuff, and just hired these guys to sit and talk to us for a couple of days. They are that good. Anyway, us three bikers and the indomitable Scooter Girl were promptly whisked away into the crazy traffic (although this time they had brought helmets with them which somehow made it seem scarier - like there really was a chance we were going to crash) and onto our first stop en route. This is the thing with these guys. They never just take you anywhere. They go out of their way to show you things that tour groups simply don't. In this case, a silk factory. This place was like a scene from a school textbook on the Victorian era. No health and safety here, just half a dozen women working on huge looms, spinning mile upon mile of silk from spools into cloth. The noise was incredible. I've worked in my fair share of factories but this was loud. Really really loud. Alright for 10 minutes or so, but I can't imagine having to spend 10 hours a day or more in there. For less than a dollar a day. Shocking. But hey ho, them's the breaks, and we were off to our next port of call. To see the silk being spun from the coccoons onto the spools. This was a lot quieter, and the smell was kind of sweet. We watched as two women worked in the traditional way, with the chrysalises boiling away in front of them to loosen the glue, and then the foot powered spinning machine wound it onto spools. RSI anyone? It looked like the most boring repetitive job ever, and although the noise was less here, conversation was probably next to impossible. Then we moved onto the not quite so traditional part. The machinery was still old fashioned, but they were producing on a much grander scale. Huge bowls boiled away over a wood fire with hundreds of chrysalises in them. These were then passed by the load to the women on the spinning machines who attached one end of the threads to the machine. When the last of the silk goes through, the worm drops into the trough and the women scoop them out and put them into pans. Its hot and wet work. These pans of boiled worms are then passed to another section of the factory, where a woman sits and hooks out all the bad looking ones (none of them looked particulalrly great), and the good ones are sent to market. Apparently you can eat the worms although every now and then they make you sick enough to go the hospital. This didn't seem to bother the resident cat who was sat there munching away on a panfull the size of a small car. I call this place a factory, but its not really that at all. It's just a room, probably no bigger than the groundfloor of most houses. It's a proper cottage industry, and everyone who works there is from the same family. I'm not sure how much cash they actually realise from it all, or how its distributed though. Hopefully, they all do well from it but as their are hundreds of these little factories producing tonnes of silk, I doubt it very much. Next up on our tour of the countryside was a rice paper makers. The kind you eat. Essentially, this is one woman sat for hours boiling rice and making it into paper, rice cakes (exactly like Snack-A-Jacks only about a foot across), and thick sticky rice cakes. It was amazing. You take a spoonful of the mixture, put it on a griddle and spread it into a circle for the rice cakes, or Yorkshire pudding tins for the cakes. Then you cook them. Again, this over an oven heated by an open fire, but its fuelled by the rice husks. Everything gets used. Eco friendly tastic. Mand and Laura had a go and acquitted themselves admirably (with a little help from the woman it has to be said) and after sampling various kinds (including a sweet one that tasted like Parkin - I'll leave Chris to explain that to anyone south of the Watford Gap. I guess its a bit like bread pudding, but not much) we were off to My Son for the main part of the day. My Son is part of the old Champa Kingdom in Vietnam, and was its intellectual and religious centre. As such, it is full of temples and buildings dating from as early as 4th Century. At least it was until the US bombed the s*** out of it. Now its just ruins, some of it not much more than piles of old bricks. But at least it's now a Unesco World Heritage Site, and money is pouring in to help in its renovation. Seems to me they're gonna have to start from scratch on most of it. We gamely walked through to the first set of buildings which were remarkably untouched. In fact we walked right through the first set to get to the third and fourth sets without really noticing. But I'm sure they were really nice. The ones we actually saw were. I got a really eerie feeling walking through the stone temples and standing looking at the defunct altars. So much so, that I started humming The Levellers "Sell Out" ('Do I belong to some ancient race, I like to walk in ancient places, These are the things that I can understand, I don't believe in your modern way, Don't care about the things you say, Your policies have failed the test of time....Cos you sold them down the river') a song which then stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Which was nice. After much confusion as to where we were (owing to our having walked right through) we went back to see one of the ones we missed which turned out to be a few piles of bricks. Next was a rather more together group that was being restored but failed to inspire anything but mild interest (although the bomb craters were still there for all to see) and we then walked on and looked at another pile of bricks which was supposedly another group. Then my go anywhere hard wearing Karrimor sandal snapped. Just the one. And my right foot spent the next 2 miles or so flapping like a demented crocodile. When we got back to the reception area, me, Mand and Kimbers decided we'd go off and find another one we realised we'd missed, that was down a small turning off the main drag. After taking the turning, we walked through jungle for a few hundred yards before the path split in two. Taking this as a sign that it was never meant to be (I could see the headlines forming 'Stupid Westerners Get Lost In Unesco World Heritage Site - Feared Dead) we turned and headed back to Laura and then back to our ever ready Easy Riders. One more stop on the way to look at some ornaments that were made from the melted down scrap salvaged from bombs and rockets, and a few ornaments made from the shells themselves (I'm guessing this was another commission pitch) and they brought us back to our hotel. After a cold beer and another long chat, they headed off into the distance and back to Danang, with our thanks as well as our money in their pockets. These boys really made a difference for me. After the hecticness of Hanoi and to a lesser extent Hue and the constant battering you take at every turn by people trying to rip you off, these fellas were a real breath of fresh air. Talking about it later, Kimbers and myself were agreed that they'd caused us to finally fall in love with Vietnam. After food, we headed out to our first fitting at the tailors. The clothes were fantastic and for the most part fitted perfectly (the main exception being a pair of Laura's trousers). Rather predictably, the girls set about ordering more. Eventually we headed out for the shoe shop of the tailor's sister. I ordered 4 pairs of hand made, bespoke leather shoes for the princely sum of 60 quid, and bought a pair of thong sandals. The second of my fantastic go anywhere sandals had given up the ghost on the walk to the tailors. They're nothing if not consistent I guess. I got the shoe maker to fix them, but as yet still haven't had the need to wear them. I'm a strictly flip flop kinda guy now. The next day me, Mand and Scooter Girl set off on a walking tour of Hoi An as laid out in LP. Laura decided that after the last effort in Hanoi, it really wasn't for her and who were we to argue. We started at Phac Hat pagoda which was really really pretty (despite the slowly dying kitten we encountered in the courtyard) and I was once again impressed by how different each pagoda is. A sure sign that I was over my culture fatigue. Then we headed to the Truong family Chapel which may have been the most fantastic sight in Vietnam. We'll never know though cos it was closed, so we headed instead for the Tran Family Chapel which was not only open, but really gratifying. This is exactly what it says on the tin. A family chapel for the Tran family who have lived in Vietnam since about 1700. They provide a family member as a guide to ensure you really get the most out of your visit. We started with an explanation of the architecture, where I found out something really interesting. The traditional shape of Chinese rooves is symbolic of the hand. Now that might not be so interesting to most of you uncultured types, but by now I'm into the really advanced stuff :o) I don't know how to explain it other than classical Chinese. You know, curved roof type thingy. Well, anyway, the five internal uprights represent the fingers, and the two cross beams represent the heart (health line) line and the life line. I found this really interesting. Ok, you can stop sniggering now. And yawning. She also explained the symbology behind Thai and Vietnamese architecture, but I was trying so hard to remember the Chinese bit that that all went by the wayside. Next, we got to throw ying and yang coins. You get to ask a question three times and each time you ask, you throw the coins. If you get a ying and a yang, then the answer or outcome is a good one. If not, then don't bother me old mucker, the ancestors disapprove. Obviously, if it takes three goes to get a yes then that's not as good as getting one first time round. Both Kimbers and Mand hit yes on their first attempt, and I hit yes on my third. And no, I'm not telling you what the question was. Then we headed into the actual altar part. On the way in there is a 10 inch threshold to step over. This is to encourage people who enter to look down and this acts as a reminder to bow as you enter. Nice touch. I'd probably spend half my time face down at the foot of the altar having forgotten the step was there, but I dare say for most people this would work a treat. The altar itself has urns containing the ashes of Tran ancestors on it - husband and wives next to each other. It seems even in death there is no escape. To the side is the updated version. Nowadays, they put up photos of the deceased instead, which seems to me to take a little of the romance out of it. But hey, what can you do? Outside and into the gardens there are a number of trees and bushes growing. But that's not all. When a baby is born they bury the afterbirth out here. That's not as grim as it sounds (at least thery don't f***in eat it), as what it does is signifies that no matter how far afield the family member goes, a part of them always remains at home, with the family. I like that a lot. The rest was really just a massive gift shop, but after the excellent tour I couldn't really fault that. Not that I bought anything. No we were rocking on our cultural tour, and it was on to the Museum of Trading Ceramics. Which was s***. Really s***. Just a few broken pieces of old pottery and a brief history of Hoi An as a port. The 'great ceramic mosaic' that LP mentions is ok, but not exactly great, and we found ourselves wondering (not for the first time) who writes some of the s*** in that book. Beginning to feel a little out of sorts due to the serious heat, we decided to scrap the tour and just go and look at the bits we thought sounded good. The Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation and the Japanese covered Bridge. The Assembly hall was really rather nice. It was cool after the heat of the afternoon sun, and gorgeously decorated with murals and statues. It exactly what it says it is, and there are tables and chairs as well as a massive floor for (I guess) mass meetings. At the back is a small temple which again I found really attractive, but best of all, there were these big curls of paper burning really slowly. They all had people's names on and I have absolutely no idea wht their significance was. But it added to the ambience of tranquility and peace that the place held for me. Unfortunately, the Japanese Coverd Bridge was as bad as the Assembly Hall was good. It was a covered bridge. Apparently its famous. I don't know what for. Disappointing tourists maybe. After a brief look at it, we stood on it for 5 minutes or so just to see if we were missing anything. The understated ornamentaion as raved about in LP was incredibly so, bordering on the s***e. Maybe I'm not quite as advanced up the cultural ladder as I thought. Anyway, enough was enough amd we headed off for a beer and a good sit down, before heading back to our tailors for another fitting. I say we, it was really a fitting for the girls for the stuff they ordered the night before. Laura joined us there (those damned trousers still weren't right) and obviously her and Kimbers ordered yet more stuff. Then off to the shoe shop to pick up mine and Mand's shoes and the belts she'd ordered, where I decided I needed a pair of trainers. I picked out a pair, and got them to embroider Neil Boy on them. Well, why not? It's not every day you get hand made trainers. Besides, if it's good enough for Becks.... The next day was the final fitting for everything (although I think Kimbers managed to order somethinmg else) I picked up my trainers and then the tailor took us out to dinner. It's the least she could do really. We spent between us probably $1500, and there were three other people who'd spent a shedload too. The dinner was a fantastic local dish called cao lau, in a local cafe. Cao lau is a bit like the pancakes we'd had in Hue but with rice paper and pork. We ate loads of them (well it was free and tasty to boot) and finished off with fresh pineapple. It was a really good end to our time in Hoi An. The next day was the final fitting for everything the girls had ordered and time to post it back to Blighty, then get on the bus for Nha Trang. Not all the clothes were ready, but what we did have we took to the post office, packed and sent home. I'll just say this. Don't try and send stuff home from Vietnam unless you have about half a day to spare in the Post Office. It was hell. To make matters worse, you can only send 30kg and mine, Mand's and Kimbers's was 31.4kg. So i ended up cramming two pairs of shoes into my already ridiculously heavy backpack in order that we'd make the weight limit. The bus was due at 4.30 and me and Mand finally got out of there at about 4.10, and predictably got lost on the way back to the hotel. When we got there sweaty and worrying, the girls were still waiting for the tailor to bring the last of the clothes (a bikini for Kimbers and Laura's trousers I think), but for once the bus was late when we wanted it to be. The clothes arrived and the bus followed a few minutes later. And we were off to the 'Beach Capital Of Vietnam'. Nha Trang. Before I go, I'd just like to note a few of the more memorable points raised in conversation by the Easy Riders. It might not be of much interest to you, but it will spark the memories for me when I read it back. It's ok for man to marry as many women as he can afford to. He can also have as many girlfriends as he wants, and owes them no responsibility if they get pregnant and can tell them to beat it. A woman on the other hand has only her husband. For these reasons, the divorce rate in vietnam is as low as it gets without being zero. Also, a man can beat his wife and she is offered no protection from the law, a point that had the girls seething. For my part, I'm considering moving here :o) Pompey guy was as degenerate a football gambler as me. He did around 100 dollars in the World Cup without ever winning one single bet. On the Friday he told me he was going to bet on Chelsea to beat Man City 3- 0 on their fiirst game on Sunday. I tried to talk him out of it (1 -1 was my prediction) but he went ahead and did it anyway. And he won. So maybe he's not quite as bad as me after all. Laters all xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx