What's Quy-ing Nhon?

Now, where was I? Ah yes, escaping the hairless ones on The Rockpile. And on to the Seagull Hotel in Quy Nhon, yet another in the endless array of despoiled Vietnamese beaches.

See? Completely in keeping with traditional Viet architecture. But did I care? Not a whit. After 2 days in the jungle, my only criteria were my own bathroom with a western type shower, air con and a gigantic bed. Check, check and check. As I entered the lobby, I was serenaded by the loudest karaoke I had ever heard. Turns out my timing was perfect. I had stumbled onto a "traditional" Viet wedding. The receptionist and I were literally yelling at each other and I still couldn't make out a word she was saying.
"What the fuck," I thought as I wandered over to the ballroom. One short glimpse inside was enough to send me scurrying to the elevator.

All set for the first "you couldn't make this shit up" occurence? Read this carefully:

I realize it's a tad blurry, but check out Rule #5.
("No, no, there's obviously been a misunderstanding here. We're just friends/distant cousins/business associates.")

Not my problem. After washing the grime off my filthy flesh I figured it was time for a stroll down the beach and some supermarket snacks. Imagine my surprise when I hit the boardwalk and saw this:

Count the people on the beach. Take your time.

This is 2:30 in the afternoon, on the cleanest beach by far I've seen here, in a town consisting entirely of hotels. WTF?
And that's not even the strangest thing. Here's a picture I took at 6:00 of the same beach. Of course, this after the sun's gone down, it's gotten chillier and a strong wind has come up.

                                     Huh?

But my mind was occupied by a weightier issue: Where was I going to find some banh xoe (all will be explained shortly)? I'd already had banh mi, my second favorite local food, for lunch. This is a mini-baguette stuffed with more ingredients than you can count and slathered with the same number of sauces. I'm sure you could customise them, but I don't have a clue what's even in them and love the taste, so why bother.

My instinct is always to find a KFC or other fast food-looking joint & head in the opposite direction. Sure enough, within a 5 minute stroll down a seamy lane I came upon my Shangi-la.

My fellow patrons, preparing to tuck into their little slice of heaven. And yes, the shaved kid did try to rub my arm hair.

So here's how it works:

1. Cut the pancake (shrimp or beef) in half with the giant scissors.

2. Take one of the rolling papers, put the pancake at one end and throw on as much other shit as you like.

3. Roll it all up and dip in the sauce. Voila! A delicious cross between a spring roll and a giant spliff, and just as satisfying as both.

4. Repeat until stuffed. Then eat one more.

Total cost for my 2 pancakes and a beer - 3 bucks. C'mon, man!

As I waddled my way home, I beheld a sight I never could have imagined - a Baskin Robbins. In Quy Nhon, Vietnam? Surely a sign from God. Being a good Catholic boy, I sidled up to the counter & ordered me a two scoop Pralines & Cream. Being religious really works out sometimes.

Next episode: Dispatches