Da Nang is the major capital city in the region, but we'll be living in Hoi An, a small historic town about 30 minutes outside of it. As is our habit lately, we prearranged a car and driver to get us there. We exchanged a few pleasantries in broken Vietnamese and English, but it was otherwise a quiet drive.
Our driver took us through bustling Da Nang, into rice paddies and farmland, and then through the historic and beautiful streets of Hoi An. The car stopped suddenly, and the driver said, "ok." Ok. Seems like we should get out. The neighborhood seemed about right, and I recognized the address from the online reservation.
So we got out of the car and gathered our luggage. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to pay the driver or my landlord for arranging the ride. So I took out the Vietnamese equivalent of $20 to pay for the ride, and he just sort of looked at me awkwardly. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a wad of bills. Ok, we're getting somewhere. But then he placed an equivalent amount of money in smaller bills in my hand. Ah, he thinks I want change. We stumbled through a few awkward phrases, and I gathered that the cab was already paid for by my landlord. So Aimee hoisted up Mimi and I grabbed our suitcases. We turned around as we walked away to see if he looked like he was waiting for payment, and he was already gone.
Alright, so we were on the side of the street in a small Vietnamese village with a scribbled down address and no cell phone service. My baby was tired, my wife was hungry, and I was lost. What could go wrong? A couple on a motorbike saw us standing there cluelessly, and pointed down a side street. I wrote them off, thinking that there was some other hotel that they thought we were looking for. Our house number was 144/2, and the building we were in front of was 144. I knew we were close, but I couldn't find the back house. I circled around 144 about five times, hoping that a new door would appear like some sort of Harry Potter house. No dice. I rang the bell in front of 144 and said Xin Chao (Hello)? Ha (the name of our landlord)? The old lady who answered gave me a kind smile and just shook her head.
Ok, maybe the motorbike couple knew what they were talking about. We walked down the side street, and not three steps in was a house that looked familiar from the online listing and an open door welcoming us in. Xin Chao? Ha?
Myles?
Oh thank God.
We were home! After five days of travel, including two in the air and one on the rails, we had finally made it to the house we'd be living in for the next six weeks. And it was lovely. Spacious, inviting, and reasonably cool. What more could we ask for?
Ha showed us around the house, and we melted into the couch. We checked out our neighborhood and grabbed a lovely dinner from a small restaurant set up in the owner's side yard. We unpacked a bit of our luggage, put our daughter to sleep, and crashed into bed. It was good to be home.
