Day 6: An Bang
A thing I’ve yet to discuss: the so-called bum gun. I first learned about it via Reddit after Googling Vietnam’s toilet paper etiquette. I realized I must be doing something wrong when the cleaning staff at my first hotel moved the trash bin from under the sink to directly under the toilet paper holder after the first night.
In Vietnam, the pipes are too old and unable to handle the paper waste, so one is expected to put used tissue into the bin. A bit gross. This is why I Googled. Enter the bum gun: a spray nozzle (not unlike those used to clean dishes) hanging next to every toilet that you’re meant to use as a self-powered bidet. Only when you are clean do you wipe. Therefore, the tissue in the bin is, in theory, clean as well.
I do not love this particular aspect of Vietnamese life, but I do respect the reduction of paper waste. Still, it’s tough to conquer that reflex of tossing into the bowl! OK. Enough toilet talk. Let’s focus on what we all came here for: the beach.
I now understand the reviews of An Bang—the main section of the beach near the parking and designated swim area is indeed overcrowded and not very pleasant. But where my hotel path spills out onto the beach, a little north of the main area, is paradise.
Hotel CHiEM
After a four-course breakfast at the hotel and a quick Grab bike ride into Hoi An and visit to a tailor (more on this later), I returned to the same beachside cafe, Rua, to order coffee and claim a lounge chair for the day. As I approached, the same woman from the day before met me and asked, “coffee with soya?” To be remembered!
From noon until five, I sat, I sipped, I read, I swam, I ate—repeat. A perfect day. The sun even made its first appearance, and in time for a glowy orange sunset stroll down the beach and back.
The book I’m reading is so good, gorgeous, and sad. How Shin manages to tug at the heart with such simple, sweet observances, so many perfect little lines—it’s really masterful. While reading it, I’ve literally laughed out loud, cried actual tears, and found myself remembering so many bits of my own childhood, memories of my parents and their parents. But the hardships of the South Korean family she describes—war-torn and protest-filled generations—puts my own experiences into perspective.
In one particularly devastating passage, one character describes the death of her daughter as punishment for having felt “prematurely bereft” as a teenager. The image of her as a woebegone teen about to light her first cigarette stands in stark contrast to a mother watching her own child cross the street without looking.
Dark for vacation, I know. But sadistic as it is, I love to feel things.
One of life’s luxuries is the post-beach shower. To steam in the hot flow of decent water pressure, wash the sand out of various…places, and emerge squeaky-clean with fresh-smelling hair and fold yourself into a clean robe—heaven.
I could have climbed right into bed but having slept all through the previous night, I was determined that today, I would eat my first dinner. I hopped on another Grab bike back to town and snaked through the crowds at the Night Market and along the water, the families and couples posing for photos by the lantern boats, to a slightly calmer side street.
An older English woman from Nottingham who I’d met on my Ha Long tour had recommended a restaurant called Morning Glory. She failed to mention which one: Morning Glory Original? Or its rival, Morning Glory Signature? As my Foursquare friends had checked in at the former, that’s where I went for Hoi An chicken rice and white rose dumplings, both worth seeking out.
After eating, I wandered the small, tourist-filled streets of lantern-lit Hoi An, snuffly from the jasmine and honeysuckle blooming over every wall and doorway, scoping out the numerous tailors and souvenir shops, before weaving my way back to a main road and hailing a scooter taxi back through the now-dark rice paddies and over the bridge to bed.
For KT. Hehe.