After Sunday's debacle, we took Monday as a day of recharging and rest. In my case, that meant shopping, massage, and manicure. I picked out a cute wool military-style jacket (which causes Bob to start singing "Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" each time he sees it), Joanna got a boyfriend blazer sans boyfriend (pretty sure she could have her pick of any fellow in Hoi An, though), and Bob got a snazzy leather jacket. Then Joanna and I went for $15 massages. I don't speak Vietnamese, but I could have sworn my masseuse was saying to the other one, "what in hell happened to her?" about my bruises and scrapes. And the day ended in a restaurant overlooking the river, where it was said that Mick Jagger dined. Then today we visited the ruins of My Son, an ancient Hindu-Buddhist complex that the Americans bombed almost to the ground during the war. The weather was drizzly and misty, and we were warned not to wander off since there were still unexploded bombs dotting the countryside. It all had an apocalyptic feel.
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