Touristing in Nhà Trang

We’ve been two-legged rather than two-wheeled tourists for a few days. Funny, most people want to do stuff—bus excursions, snorkelling, zip-lining. Not us. We succumbed to an overwhelming need to not do a gosh darn thing. Even too lazy to find lunch, we just sat on lounge chairs, overlooking the odd hunger pain in favour of watching big waves come crashing in with the tide. Sure, we bounced to and fro in the salty warm water a few times but it was so peaceful on the beach, we wanted to savour it. The honk, honk, honking of buses, trucks, cars & motorbikes of the past weeks, forgotten, the sun’s heat kept at bay by a beach umbrella.

One of the few times we did manage to lift our lazy bums up & outta those loungers we walked a bit to get massages. Heck, why not! $15 for 60 minutes. Impulsively, I also stopped to get a haircut, curious how the experience might compare to Randy’s elaborate coif experience a few weeks ago. Chop, chop, snip, snap, bing bang boom and I’m done in about 14 minutes and 30 seconds. I was scanning, prepared to defend myself in the event deep-ear-cleaning instruments came out—but they didn’t (thankfully).  Guess that’s a guy thing. Sure, the guy was pro and all (even if he did look a little gangsta/bouncer), but really? It was three times the price of Randy’s hour long extravaganza.

Just for amusement, while out and about we snapped a few pics of some signage that maybe lost a little in translation.