Now Things Start to Run Together...

... So then there was another overnight sleeping bus. Destination- Hoi An, Vietnam. Not to be confused with Hanoi. This one included British girls who had been roaming the streets wearing only bikinis who now slept on the bus wearing only bikinis. There were two bathroom stops at what were and are officially the two grossest, most insanely horrendous toilet facilities we were subjected to (I am writing this at the end of my trip and this remains true).
At the first one... I don't know how it happened... but out of nowhere my chapstick fell into the stagnant puddle of urine and my hand instinctively shot down and retrieved it.

I would give anything to have these sort of reflexes in normal life; it happened in a millisecond. But why then? Why at that moment? Why save the chapstick? Did my reflexes mix it up with an infant? Why why why did I just baptize my hand in decades old urine?

To top it off, there was no running water on the premises. I had a miniature meltdown and then broke down and purchased a water bottle to wash my hands with while whimpering softly to myself. It was like pouring liquid gold on the ground.

The next stop had two separate bathrooms. On one side of a brick wall was a sort of "shelter" for women and then on the other side, one completely shrouded in darkness with crumbling concrete rubble for flooring. A sassy and loud-mouthed Vietnamese woman had stormed off the bus. She yelled at all of us standing in line for the women's "facilities" to follow her to the men's. She demonstrated how to use the urinal then walked over to the queue, grabbed Kady, dragged her to the urinal and forced her to use it!
Kady did not have a positive experience and I therefore stood my ground as the woman yelled at me in Vietnamese. Finally! Kady was the bathroom guinea pig. She always makes me go first to see if it's worth holding it or not. (But I get back at her by never ever ordering a coffee until she has had a sip of hers. I've avoided paying for some really bad coffee.)

Kady and I arrived in Hoi An and checked into a decadent $13 hotel. I say decadent because it actually contained a bathtub. Those are like mirage unicorns in southeast Asia because all bathrooms have slanted floors with a drain and the "showers" are a mere hose coming out of the wall. This luxury, most unfortunately, will go unused as Kady and I are still horribly sunburned at this point. For that reason we avoided the outdoors in general. When venturing out, we covered nearly every inch of our bodies with clothing. We never made it farther than a few blocks away from our hotel.

Hoi An has a well-known beach but is more famous for its (once) affordable and (once) skilled tailors. People come from all over and have custom suits, dresses, coats, shoes, and the like made.

We didn't make it to the beach but we did succumb to the temptation of getting some clothes made. They're not quite of mediocre quality but hey, I've got custom clothes from Vietnam. Only hundreds of thousands of tourists can say the same.

As Kady and I were discussing what we might like to have sewn, a woman approached the restaurant that we ate most of our meals at as it was about fifteen steps from our hotel. I looked at her and decided based on her her teeth, frail frame, and the way she wore her scarf, that she was French. As Kady drew her into a conversation like she does with every single stranger we encounter, her accent seeeemed to confirm my diagnosis of French-ness. She told us the story of getting thrown in Cambodian prison and having to surrender her passport and how an American passport goes for around $10,000.
"You have an American passport?" Kady asked. I was also perplexed but not interested in talking to her.

"Yes, I'm from Minnesota."

But... WE'RE from Minnesota Kady and I thought in unison...

"Oh... where is your accent from?" Kady asked.

"I don't know. I think maybe from France."

"Oh... is that where you live now?"

"I have no home. I am a nomad."
(You're all reading zees een a dreeping-ly frahnch accent, yes?)

I was sick of this girl and made a point to avoid her.

Later that night as Kady and I were once again back at our restaurant, we met a girl somewhere around our age travelling alone. She was perhaps the first American we'd met (besides Faux-Frenchie, who is from "nowhere" now). She was a doctor from San Fransisco and Kady and I liked her a lot as she laughed very hard at our jokes.

The restaurant doubled as the owners' home and there were lots of adorable children climbing all over . We took copious amounts of photographs of them and then let them take my camera to photograph us and one another.

My skin still burned but I was feeling good in it. I was feeling like I was in with these people. I was truly happy and content and comfortable. I belonged right here.

The $1.20 gin and tonics might have aided in this euphoria. I was in that perfect relaxed state where I knew I would actually sleep well that night and not be awoken by sharp sunburn pain every time I moved.
It was eventually bedtime for the kids and Kady and I were discussing the clothes we were having made when I started realizing that I had no way of fitting any new clothes into my bag and would have to get rid of some of the items I had packed. I was at peace with this because I brought some pretty disposable stuff. I told the doctor and the Fake French girl that had since seen and joined us at the restaurant that they were welcome to some of my clothes including the dress I was wearing. They seemed intrigued and even mentioned taking the dress I was wearing to the tailor's and having it reproduced. I told them I would leave a couple items outside of my room and they were welcome to pick them up. I was feeling very content with this plan. That's when I made the mistake of ordering one more. They were so refreshing! They were only a dollar!

But sunburn+dehydration+sleep deprivation+one more... does not a good decision make.

I needed water and I needed to be in bed. Immediately. Kady and I threw money down on the table and walked the fifteen steps to our hotel and grabbed two waters. We asked the price, were unsatisfied, put one back, payed, and headed to our room.

I chugged water, remembering that alcohol with a sunburn is a bad idea, rummaged through my suitcase and somewhat neatly placed several items outside of my hotel room.
I awoke the next morning realizing that my now absent clothes probably had not been picked up by the doctor or Faux-Frenchie, but were probably being laundered by the hotel. Blurg, I thought; I really didn't want to pay for that. However, the clothes were mysteriously returned about 24 hours later, un-laundered and with two completely random bikinis that did not belong to me
"These are not mine."
"Yes, they're yours."
"No, they are not mine."
"Maybe you leave by pool."
"No. No pool, not mine."

As I checked out of the hotel, I was thankful to not have a laundry bill. However, there was a mysterious charge.
"What's this for?"
"For water bottle."
I found Kady and asked if she had gotten a water bottle and charged it to the room. "No, we just got that one water bottle that night. And I bought another one that other day but paid for it."
"We didn't charge any water bottles to the room," I explained to the front desk, "We paid for all of them."
"No, one night you come down and get one."
I knew this wasn't true. If you walked across the street, the water bottles were 30 cents. Here they were almost a dollar.
"No, this is a mistake."
"No, it was night you come home with your friend. You drink a lot."
My jaw sort of hung open. I was embarrassed. "Yes, we got one water bottle and we paid for it."
"You don't remember because you drink so much that night."
My face burned red with embarrassment then anger when Kady confirmed what I knew to be true: We had in fact retrieved two water bottles from the mini fridge by the front desk. We asked the price. It was too much. We put one back. We paid for one. End of story.
I repeated the facts to the haughty front desk woman as she looked down her nose at me.
"No, you get two. You don't know. You drink so much. Same night you drink so much then come home and you THROW your clothes out into the hallway."

The earth fell out from underneath me. I could not deny having too much to drink. I could not deny placing my clothes in the hallway. But I wanted to explain!
No no you don't understand, I was dehydrated and had a sun burn fever and I was DONATING my clothes, not flinging them into the hallway in a drunken fit.
But how is that going to possibly translate to someone who apparently can only say two things in English: "you owe this much" and "you are a gross drunk tourist".

I hung my head in shame. I bit my tongue and paid the bill. I knew we didn't owe it but I also knew it was only a dollar.
The moral of the story is- don't get sunburned.

Now to Hanoi with an unexpected travel companion- FauxFrenchie...