I hate busses!!!! I mean I hate them with a firey passion! So 24-hours on a bus for me is torture. Cramped, hot, and miserable; unable to read or sleep; and my iPod battery ran out about 6 hours in. It was hell on wheels.
I finally unfolded myself from the bus seat and blissfully stepped out into Hoi An, only to swarmed by hotel workers trying to get us to have a look at their rooms. This was as close as I would ever come this trip to breaking off prematurely from the group. Having picked up stragglers on the way from Hanoi, there were now nine bus-weary travelers trying to agree on hotel and sleeping arangements amid a barage of sales pitches and price negotiations. We finally agreed on a place, and had a chance to shower the bus ride away and stretch our legs.
That night after dinner everyone else went to a bar and I went promptly to one of the 200+ tailors in the city. Luckily I had made a list of the clothes I wanted made, or shopping could have gotten more out of control than it was already going to be. Three three-piece suits, a tux, five shirts, 2 pants, a pea coat, a velvet jacket, and $500 later, I joined the group for a much needed drink.
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