Hoi An, Vietnam
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
In the morning my throat was still horribly sore and my left tonsil was badly swollen. Boo. I had breakfast then got a taxi to the airport at 9.30am. There was a shitload of traffic and I started to get worried that I'd be late, just like in
Bangkok, but fortunately I still managed to check in with just over an hour to go before the plane left. The flight was with Vietnam Airlines, who have lovely big planes and a great service. As I'm short of time I booked a flight, instead of a bus, as it was only £25 – bargain! It only took an hour and ten minutes, so soon I arrived at tiny
Da Nang airport. I met a random middle-aged Swiss bloke called Mervy in the arrivals hall loitering near the taxi desk, so we decided to share a taxi together. The airport taxis were $17, which we deemed far too expensive, so instead we walked outside and exposed ourselves to the throng of jabbering, gesticulating taxi vultures, all attempting to take the two of us off in different directions, repeating prices and grabbing arms. After we'd settled on a decent price of $11, we hopped in one particular taxi and were soon speeding off to
Hoi An. The journey was quite enjoyable, in contrast to the final ten minutes which were not, as the taxi driver had no clue how to find my hotel, despite the fact that I'd showed him the address and pointed to a map. He kept stopping and asking people directions, driving down the wrong streets then doing U-turns, all the while mumbling to himself in annoyance. Here's a tip – know the town better! Eventually after all this kerfuffle he finally found the hotel and Mervy and I got out. Someone came to carry my bag inside, I checked in and then was shown to my room, which was totally pimped out. I had two single beds, cable TV, a mini-bar, air-con and a big ensuite bathroom – oh yes!
Once I'd got all of my stuff sorted I met up with Mervy in the lobby; he'd checked room availability and there were none, so he was going to a hotel in the south end of town. We were both hungry though, so we headed two doors down to Cafe 43, which I had heard good things about in the HostelWorld reviews of my hotel. It was rather nice: run by a lovely and very friendly family, with excellent food and service. Afterwards, it had got to about 3pm. Mervy left for his hotel, and I decided to do some blogging on the computers in my hotel for a few hours. In the evening, I was tired and unfortunately my throat was absolutely killing – every time I swallowed my left tonsil and ear were agony. Accordingly, I couldn't be arsed to go into town so went back to Cafe 43 for dinner. I got a pizza, which was nice but on reflection not the best repast to select when one's throat is sore. Swallowing was bad enough, but swallowing food was excruciating. I groaned my way through dinner, the ibuprofen I'd been downing all day having failed miserably to numb the pain, then went back to my room to lick my wounds. I watched a film on TV then went to bed, vowing to go to the doctor if I was still ill in the morning.
