The Optimistic Traveller

Hoi An, Danang, Vietnam is a delicious place, seeping with color and scents and very kind people. The beaches are stunning, most everything is inexpensive, and pho for breakfast gives reason to get up early.

We had arrived from the northerly mother city Danang, where the live seafood displays were horrifically mesmerizing and the hotel was a bit fancy but boring. In Hoi An we quite literally stumbled upon the perfect place to stay, walking distance (with our rolling suitcases) down the road from where the taxi had dropped us: an Airbnb that a scammer had stolen photos of. Fortunately, the actual Airbnb landlord and the owner of the next-door hutted bar were both incredibly friendly and accommodating, allowing us to take a load off and get things straightened out forthwith. The fiasco turned out to be a gift, after I was able to clear things up with Airbnb customer service, who annoyingly wanted proof that we weren’t staying at two places at once and I briefly contemplated sending a picture of an empty chair or an empty room – but no matter. Mike had cell service and quickly found the Aira Boutique Hotel — and we walked down the street in less than five minutes.

A note about Airbnb scams, as this wasn’t the only time I was to experience one. It can happen when someone steals pictures of a property and gets you to send them money for an already-occupied or long-defunct spot. The key is not to panic. Your Optimistic Traveller advises you to enjoy the adventure. The universe will send you options, and human beings are much more compassionate than we sometimes acknowledge or expect. Try to keep screenshots of communications with Airbnb hosts (real or false), have a backup in mind just in case – and BUY THE INTERNATIONAL UNLIMITED PHONE PLAN.  It won’t always work if you’re in an extremely remote area, but it’s a security blanket I highly advise including in your suitcase.

At check-in, the Aira offered us a choice of two rooms, the second being something like $10 more per night for a small, charming (though un-lush) suite with a balcony and full (pho-plentied, unusual-fruited) breakfast. The total cost, reminding you that this property was ocean-facing and had a pool, was around $75 a night. It was a dream, and as of this writing I long to return. The design included two or three separate buildings, and ours had an interior courtyard with a koi pool and lotus flowers in bloom, and several full shelves of trading books. With the money we saved I parasailed solo, enjoying the scurry of little people below tending to my wellbeing.

The proper town of Hoi An, which we walked to, was a hike inland, set on Thu Bon River where nightly lamp-lighting ceremonies positively sparkle with magic. A cab ride would be about five minutes and inexpensive, but there’s nothing like walking to truly understand where you are on Earth. We walked across bridges, found money on the side of the road, saw farmers tending oxen with decrepit yokes, and sweated to the oldies. Not really, as no music was playing (nor would we have wanted it to be playing, as the air was rife with birdsong and insectbuzz), but it was very hot, and who cared?

As you enter “downtown,” every other shop is a tailor offering custom designs and made-to-fit outfits from formal dresses to rompers and sets. You can come with an idea and walk away with a tangible set of clothes that no one else in the world will have.

We were on our way to the river market area to find something to eat (which wouldn’t be difficult, as street fare was scrumptious and numerous restaurants had spots on the second-floor balconies overlooking the small glowing lamps set out for pennies and wishes by tourists.) The market area was stall after stall of handcut greeting cards, beautiful bookmarks, small journals, silk pouches, colorful parasols, paper lamps, and every other imaginable souvenir you could think of, all for a song. I fell in love with the silks on the mannequins. Newly svelt, I knew they’d slide over my body just so and make me want to dance and float. Numerous ladies propositioned from the doorways, wanting to dress me. It was a smorgasbord. 

For about $70 (which could have been bargained to $50 or less, I now realize, but so be it, I bought and had tailored a long, leaf-green silk dress that had a tie in the back you could adjust if your weight changed. In retrospect, this was a wise choice. It was stunning, the kind of silk you almost want to drink. I hadn’t been wearing bras as “they” had pleasantly shrunken, and there was no need. When I picked up the garment a day or so later, it slinked over me like a breath.

It remained in the same (unrevealing – but I knew) brown plastic bag for the next two years. I kept seeing it out of the corner of my eye, hanging like an insult to my growing size. I’d intended to wear it to a wedding that became an elopement after the Asia trip. I feared trying it on again when another wedding approached. I had gained about 15 pounds and didn’t fit into a different silk floral, more casual gown I’d purchased.

Still, I needed something to wear to this formal late summer wedding in Montana, and, having been all sizes, I needed to shop my closet, replete with myriad new-with-tags dresses and jumpsuits. So finally, I tried the Hoi An silk. The forgiving loosely laced tie was perfect. Nonetheless, I picked out a backup and packed for the trip, including a travel steamer in my suitcase.

Yellowstone and Grand Teton were splendid and full of all kinds of nature and animals. It was a perfect family vacation, and even though most accommodations are costly, I was able to offset that by thrifting in Jackson, Big Sky, and Livingston and by getting us free ski lifts for aerial views of the landscapes. We went on hikes, fought rapids, and even spied an off-season grizzly bear playing with his field catch.

The day of the wedding, I realized I had forgotten the backup dress, so my Vietnamese dream had to work. I paired it with beige floral sandals and hoped I wouldn’t sweat through it. The coach up the winding mountain was filled with Valentino, Chanel, and hair extensions. Against the greens (and cloudy blues) of Big Sky, my dress shone. Clothing seals memories for me. It contributes to comfort (or lack thereof) in a setting and can make the difference between a good trip and a bad one. Atop the mechanical bull hired for reception entertainment, the dress (barely) held me in, making for a hilarious juxtaposition between slutty honky tonk and glamor. Thanks, Hoi An. Your green dress and I charmed the socks off those young Montana wedding goers. Now to fit into the other Vietnamese dress I commissioned — and to make other memories in it.