Hello Hoi An

I couldn't ask for a more perfect segue.  We said good bye to the traffic in Ho Chi Minh City, arrived in Hoi An, and promptly squashed a scooter.  I'm more convinced than ever that I should not leave my fate in the hands of a motor bike.

The day began innocently enough.  We dragged the VW bug sized suitcases to the airport in Ho Chi Minh and bit our fingernails as we checked them in for the quick flight to Danang.  On one hand I was worried that they would weigh the bags and charge us a fortune for the extra weight.  On the other hand, I worried that they wouldn't weigh them, and we would bring the plane down with our excessive baggage.  In the end, we paid a small, very reasonable fee for our excess weight, and all was right with the world.

It only got better when we arrived in Hoi An expecting to find a taxi driver with our name on a card, and instead we got a warm welcome from one of the families I'll be working with this year. Not only that, but they were driving a sixteen passenger van (someone got the memo about the obnoxious luggage situation).  They forever endeared themselves to our children by proposing a quick stop for KFC or burgers before heading to Hoi An.  We were off to a fabulous start.

Our New Aussie Friends

In about a total of twelve seconds the kids had become BFFs.  Three weeks of sibling togetherness was more than enough.  Our kids were starved for some real friends, and this Aussie crowd fit the bill perfectly.  After about five minutes Nolan whispered to me, "Mom, I know how to say 'no' in Australian...narr."  We giggled and wondered how long it will take for our kids to pick up an Aussie accent.

Not only did we get a warm welcome, but we also got a dinner invite.  It was on the way to dinner that our taxi flew past the home of our new friends.  Realizing he had missed the house, our driver braked suddenly, and the scooter behind us screeched to a stop.  To add insult to injury, we quickly backed up and cringed as we heard the crunch of a metal scooter frame at the back of the van.  We pulled forward and freed the poor scooter driver from the tangle.  He revved up his engine, exchanged a few words with our driver and carried on down the road.

For a country with a daily scooter death rate of forty, we have yet to witness even a mild case of road rage.  It really is astounding.  The prevalent attitude seems to be, "Dung happens, so let's just move on and try to avoid becoming a statistic." I'm trying to imagine this scenario in L.A.  It's not really working.  I think there is definitely something to be learned from this driving culture, and I'm going to hope some if it rubs off on me (and perhaps a little bit could get channeled to this guy I know who seethes when he has to sit at a red light for more than three seconds).

Crazy kids in any culture

We had a fabulous evening with new friends and returned to out hotel at the end of the night without incident.  Buddha is smiling on us as we begin our year in Hoi An.