First off, I have to address the staring, which seem to be at it's absolute worst in Vietnam. I tested whether it was because I was with Mick. It wasn't. They all stared even when I was alone. Not only was the staring relentless, it was intense and not so friendly. And they don't look away. I actually watched a girl stare right at me while picking her nose. She was digging and digging. I stared back and she didn't even flinch. In fact, she rolled up those boogers between her thumb and index finger while staring. GROSS. The funny thing is they don't even think I'm Vietnamese judging from the stuff they were saying about me out loud. It was somewhat satisfying to bust out in Vietnamese and catch people off guard, but really, is being discreet so hard? All the while, I realized that my vocabulary was weak in the insult department. My parents never taught us how to insult others. That's a good thing until some 16-year-old starts making fun of my shoes. Then what can I say to her? I was going to hit below the belt and call her poor, but thought better of it. *sigh* I didn't let everyone get away with it, but it seems as though Vietnam has one huge collective inferiority complex.
Back to Hoi An. This charming little town looks like colonial Vietnam movie set wherever you turn. Some of the buildings are centuries old. At least the government knew enough to declare the whole ancient town historically important, so no giant concrete buildings will spring up. The other thing about Hoi An is that it's one giant dressmaking shop. Tailors will not only custom-make dresses, suits and shoes, but they will do it in 24 hours. I was really excited about this because I thought Jason can have all of his suits made here for cheap. I quickly realized that it wasn't worth it when we saw the final product. It's no Saville Row, I can tell you that much. It's not the workmanship, it's the small decisions that involve taste. I gave a shop some photos of a Dior Homme suit so they could make a skinny suit for Mick, but the proportions were off. I'm sure it's fine for classic shapes, but anything other than that would require too much directing. Their were suit shops all over Thailand too, but they were all Burmese and very agressive. Why?
We arranged for a private driver to pick us up because we can't do adventurous bus trips with my mom. The passenger vanity mirror had a video monitor (!), but the driver's side was covered in plastic. Typical.
Mick watching a man make silk lanterns. I bought ten in each color.
See? Isn't Hoi An cute? One of many cool old Vespas parked all over Vietnam.
Mick waiting for the rain to stop. He bought that little stool out from under someone and got ridiculed all over town. Peasants! What do they know?
Mick making another deal on ceramics sitting on the now beloved stool.
View from our hotel room.
The dressmaker invited us to lunch behind the her store.
Me getting the final fitting for my ao dai, a traditional Vietnamese dress.
My mom feels better here. I'm not sure that she's listening to Mick's animated conversation.
I'm lecturing this kid for pulling a devious newspaper scam. I had other confrontations with people who tried to do the same. In the U.S., non-customers would not be allowed into a cafe.
At the market. I bought one of those hats too. I'm going to wear it in L.A.
I am a foreigner. It says so on my train ticket.
The food cart on the train. It was surprisingly thoughtful for a Vietnamese venture.
Mick with Mustafah and Mohamed, two really nice Thai kids on the train.
03:57 AM // Friday November 10, 2006 // permalink
