Over the mountains and through the roadworks we went.
Landslides had shut down the road a few months ago and we had to steer around the construction. At the very top of the mountain, we had a potty break at the site of the American bunkers. The sun was peeking through the clouds and the South looked promising.

We visited Marble Mountain, a big Buddha, and the Cham Museum in Danang. The Cham were an ancient civilization in the area, but there wasn't too much left to show they had ever been there. We dropped by the railway station to pick up tickets for the groups' 8-hour train journey to Nha Trang in two days time. Mark was making separate arrangements for me. Nha Trang is supposedly a lovely beach town, but I have had enough of the beach and enough social life for now and was going to stay on in Hoi An by myself for two days. I'd fly to Saigon and arrive there at the same time as the rest of the group.

We arrived at the Cua Dai Hotel in the afternoon and Mark took us on an orientation walk through Hoi An. The town was just recently declared a UNESCO World Heritage site and has all of this really nice French colonial architecture. Most of it is not restored and the city is just on the verge of comprehending its tourist potential. The big thing to do in Hoi An is to buy tailor-made silk clothing so Mark took us through various silk factories and manufacturing shops.

We went by Mrs. Thuy's shop. She is the safest bet in town for tailoring, and also the most expensive. Mark told us this and explained that we should consider spreading our business around. There is no need to spend all in one place. I priced a suit at Mrs. Thuy's. $132. I don't think so. I laughed at her and left, having very little need for office wear anyway.

My e-mail pal Karen Arnold had tipped me off to My My Tailors, a little shop by the Japanese covered bridge, so I went there and started explaining the various items that I wanted made. My My takes Mastercard and even though the items were only $7-$15 each, it didn't take me long to spend $205.

Dinner was a group meal at the Mermaid Cafe. It was okay but not spectacular. Most of the group left for the hotel but Mark took about half of us to Cafe Scout for a drink.

Mr. Hai was the owner of Cafe Scout and he was a very nice man of 30-something. Mr. Hai said, "please, one of you should put on some music" so I took it upon myself to go and examine his CD collection.

I ended up putting on Buena Vista Social Club and Ali Farke Toure/Ry Cooder. I found it very odd that Mr. Hai had these CD's and inquired about their source. He told me that a Russian man had sent them to him.

Mr. Hai brought us some rice wine and Mark poured enough for everyone. I begged to be left out of it and agreed to drink half of a beer as penance. Lochie, who doesn't normally drink, was not so lucky and had to drink the rice wine to be polite. I had just a taste of it.

It was pretty vile, potent stuff.

Mark asked for snake wine next. It's a concentrated rice wine that has been fermented for something like 15 days with giant dead snakes in the jar. Also, whole birds and whatever else seems to be around. Everyone obligingly tried some. Again, I had a miniscule taste.

The snake wine was even more disgusting.

Our group of tipsy tourists disbanded, leaving Mr. Hai and Mark to ply just Lochie and Julia with their snake wine. And me, of course, but there are advantages to being a non-drinker.

Mr. Hai and Mark got steadily drunker. And Julia and Lochie were pretty drunk too. Finally, Mr. Hai closed up Cafe Scout and the formerly-aloof Mark took us to the karaoke bar across the street.

I do not karaoke myself, but the idea of watching the locals karaoke was appealing. Unfortunately the karaoke bar turned out to be quite different than what I was anticipating.

It was in the back room of a family's home. It was a big, square windowless room featuring a 27-inch television and a laserdisc-ish machine that had the karaoke option.

There was no one else there.

Mark and Mr. Hai sat down and started paging through the book of songs. Lochie and Julia and I sat down cautiously, a bit concerned. They all ordered beer.

Mr. Hai picked a Vietnamese song and plugged in the code to the remote control. The song started and he sang along. He had a lovely voice and it probably helped that to us the song sounded quite exotic.

Then Mark picked a song and wouldn't you know it - he also had a great voice.

"Okay," said Mark, "your turn."

"No," I said.

"No," said Lochie.

"No," said Julia.

Mark and Mr. Hai continued to sing and continued to get drunker. Mark continued to pressure us.

"Just let go and have some fun," he wheedled.

The man who had previously been distant and cautious had become warm and friendly under the influence of snake wine. He was grabbing us all and hugging us and sticking the microphone in our faces. Finally we gave in.

The three of us agreed to sing along to a Tammy Wynette song. It was a disaster and sounded wretched.

But we survived it.

The group got drunker and the singing continued but didn't get any better. Being the only sober one, I was probably the most apprehensive one but believe it or not I went along with it too, even going so far as to sing a duet of 'Rhinestone Cowboy' with Mark.

It really was dreadful. And finally, we convinced the drunken boys that it was time to leave and we went down the street to Champas Bar, where Mark ran into Crazy Craig. Crazy Craig is an Intrepid leader renowned for his motorcycle skills. Mark was hugging him and hugging everyone while Mr. Hai shook his head and looked mortified for his friend.

At 3am, us women decided that it was time to leave Mark to his real life and give him a break from worrying about us tourists. We left the bar and Lochie hopped on a nearby bicycle and tried to ride it home.

"No, Lochie," I said. "Put the bicycle away. It isn't yours." She giggled and got off.

Mr. Hai offered to drive the four of us to the hotel on his motorbike. I had been dying to try the Asian way of motorbike riding - an entire family on a motorbike - but it didn't seem wise to try it under the influence of snake wine. We declined and walked back to the hotel.

Just by the hotel, we heard a hideous, piercing squealing. The pigs are slaughtered at 3am in Vietnam and this particular pig was screaming in fear. It will put me off bacon for some time, no doubt.