Blog Tracker
12-06-2023, 09:07
Visit the Shut up about Barclay Perkins site (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2023/06/hoy-anne.html)
I’ve left on the 8 AM alarm. To avoid breakfast horror. (Being too late). No, I do know how to turn it off. Just handy to have it set. Honestly. No, really honestly. I’m sure I could switch it off. If I needed to. All by myself, too. You’re doubting me? Come over here and say that.
Sausage and onion baguette for brekkie. I order the same as Mikey. But only because I misheard. I thought that he had asked for egg and onions. What the hell. I still eat it. Basically, it’s a hotdog. But nicer. Much nicer. Not what I wanted, though.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzKbQsYKOV_uij7IbirlSqSXpbJTaM-o9P5JHSBWbYdOK4e7AlNadH6Lm994X4f3np6PoVeLmsDFq8kNq Ie8FA8p036R3IQ2fP8-WrIXyAybayJOH88byNsEQmWaIywaj-vH81y5crFyOFp66jZ_GcMWzhMh3VI8xwk9viywtBA9w1IYR5VS Q8wd6/w640-h480/Danang_penultimate_breakfast.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzKbQsYKOV_uij7IbirlSqSXpbJTaM-o9P5JHSBWbYdOK4e7AlNadH6Lm994X4f3np6PoVeLmsDFq8kNq Ie8FA8p036R3IQ2fP8-WrIXyAybayJOH88byNsEQmWaIywaj-vH81y5crFyOFp66jZ_GcMWzhMh3VI8xwk9viywtBA9w1IYR5VS Q8wd6/s4000/Danang_penultimate_breakfast.jpg)
Mikey also has a tea bag for me. A Yorkshire tea bag. That lovely, strong Yorkshire tea. Coffee is OK, but there’s nothing like a proper strong tea to start the day. Better even than a big, fat line of industrial-strength speed.
The plan for today is to visit Hoi An, an old city about 30 km from Danang. It's 24 euros for a car to take us there and then come and pick us up again later. Bargain.
I expected there to be countryside inbetween. There's bugger all of it. The coast is being developed a pronto, with loads of new buildings and others under construction. It's getting like Spain, where long stretches of the coast are built solid.
The last few kilometres are paddy fields. But really only the last little bit.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_raNkKZUkgjY2DdOVnC67MUtab0QYWuEGIVb4JF14i VHwoR0VqCeHj6o-QYwW7m0V0b01id8L1CQxdnxS0DYdidSqxfpUEv7dwBmTvVcmNK rU60OKaqCmzdayOkMdNuQ0bOcSzKYdtYtTjK4rRJ35hEq9hT1K C-ugZUUbQJJJiBDe-pa-aClD5BJ/w640-h480/paddy_fields.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_raNkKZUkgjY2DdOVnC67MUtab0QYWuEGIVb4JF14i VHwoR0VqCeHj6o-QYwW7m0V0b01id8L1CQxdnxS0DYdidSqxfpUEv7dwBmTvVcmNK rU60OKaqCmzdayOkMdNuQ0bOcSzKYdtYtTjK4rRJ35hEq9hT1K C-ugZUUbQJJJiBDe-pa-aClD5BJ/s4000/paddy_fields.jpg)
After being dropped off, we walk a full 50 metres before spotting the first pub, PEN Hội An. Where we stop for a beer to cool down. A Saigon green. It’s cold and wet. And not much over 4% ABV. It does its cooling job.
Outside, young tourists are photographed wearing conical hats and carrying those scale-like things over their shoulders. And photograph the temple next to the pub. None of that crap for me and Mikey. We're just sticking to drinking.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh05Y7VSk4wLu9P_4MMUxx3ngWKMSiXYXbscyxLWKonm znNdFGdBexirhsCkEF0mafa9GgKAgw1IHl72NLSOARWqZuET7r 3UNU5mCB-y4dEGj-ORh5QuNNv2m-aZUx4G6jMkNVIHgg7lJK7WFY3kVqvDqYzkZK0etvdtHGgELOE_ gGrNE9yqun-5IT/w640-h480/Hoi_An_Saigon_green.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh05Y7VSk4wLu9P_4MMUxx3ngWKMSiXYXbscyxLWKonm znNdFGdBexirhsCkEF0mafa9GgKAgw1IHl72NLSOARWqZuET7r 3UNU5mCB-y4dEGj-ORh5QuNNv2m-aZUx4G6jMkNVIHgg7lJK7WFY3kVqvDqYzkZK0etvdtHGgELOE_ gGrNE9yqun-5IT/s4000/Hoi_An_Saigon_green.jpg)
We only stay for the one. As Mikey is getting peckish. Chicken rice is the local speciality. We spot a place selling it close to the river, Mận - Cơm gà Cao lầu.
It seems fairly local. All the other customers look Vietnamese. Other than the couple in a matching shirt and dress sitting next to us. Is that a thing? Matching clothes.
“I’m sure Dolores would go for that. Us wearing matching clothes.”
“You’re taking the wee, aren’t you Ronald?”
“No. Well, not totally.”
“Don’t tell porkies. You know she’d hate it.”
Yes, of course. I would, too. But I’m not going to admit that. I have the perfect riposte.
“Fuck off.”
They have the funny low tables and chairs. I love having my arse this close to the floor on a flimsy plastic seat. Which I fear may collapse under the weight of my mighty arse at any moment. I feel so empowered. In a negative way. Which is the best way, isn’t it?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhrjUm52sABIUE0oHKIxfjVUjaBvrdBDubwhXsIjI3r gnn9ZKob_wZ_7S7tLNVyKT2TDgEH181e8R1QXlx1CyKM-iZDpnWl8nFaWSIbk74Y8cZt_c0tj5bCOELy2InH0gIKYEnO5Jo 8nBqIt4Xt7MmKFChpnb0BMsSUigG7iNeDZ62ld6hIzrcXaa/w640-h360/Hoi_An_chicken_rice.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhrjUm52sABIUE0oHKIxfjVUjaBvrdBDubwhXsIjI3r gnn9ZKob_wZ_7S7tLNVyKT2TDgEH181e8R1QXlx1CyKM-iZDpnWl8nFaWSIbk74Y8cZt_c0tj5bCOELy2InH0gIKYEnO5Jo 8nBqIt4Xt7MmKFChpnb0BMsSUigG7iNeDZ62ld6hIzrcXaa/s1920/Hoi_An_chicken_rice.jpg)
The chicken rice is an extortionate 40K. 1.60 euros. Pretty good. Especially with the chili sauce mixed in. Mikey asks for an extra dollop of the chili. The extravagant bastard. One is enough for me.
I’m being annoying with my phone again. Ah, the power of mobile data.
Alexei: Is the money really called Dong over there?
Yes.
Alexei: Do they call their cents "cock"?
No. They don't have cents.
Alexei: Too bad. Do they have pictures of knobs on the bank notes?
No. Ho ho ho chi min.
Alexei: Ah I see, on all of the notes?
Yes.Such deep, deep, intellectual conversations we have. So glad I’m able to indulge in such philosophical debates from the pub now.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQw8SFjTxu-AYVEU3gxbYppHLcRdKMXBVbB_iz83K0fwHZ7qO5y0AV7-E88g3AWQKMyjaaUfRt0iXqqTJHl_jfHLqjY29f9fDdLV3Kp3Mb 777f6mX3orGkuZvjtC89KUtnt_rWE9qhnYHfPPyxihx23S6DAk-HiTy0DGgUeMPcbBBN49CLZD8s7cH/w640-h414/Hoi_An_river.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQw8SFjTxu-AYVEU3gxbYppHLcRdKMXBVbB_iz83K0fwHZ7qO5y0AV7-E88g3AWQKMyjaaUfRt0iXqqTJHl_jfHLqjY29f9fDdLV3Kp3Mb 777f6mX3orGkuZvjtC89KUtnt_rWE9qhnYHfPPyxihx23S6DAk-HiTy0DGgUeMPcbBBN49CLZD8s7cH/s4279/Hoi_An_river.jpg)
We head over the river. But it's pretty hot. We stop for another beer at Tiger Tiger Bar. At least Mikey does. I'm on cocktails: a mojito. Well, two, as it's happy hour.
You’ll never guess which beer they sell. Go on. Have a try. That’s right: Larue. No, it’s Tiger. The pub has a rather unacceptable slogan “Be a Tiger, get a pussy.” Classy.
Four is the cut-off for picking us up at the same spot we were dropped off. We head towards there in plenty of time. No point making life harder than it needs to be. As it's still fucking hot. We need to stop in another pub. When did I need an excuse for that? It's also happy hour: buy two get one free. Mojitos for me. Watery beer for Mikey.
I'm grateful of the car's aircon as we rumble and roll back towards Danang. Did I mention that it's fucking hot?
We - quite literally - chill in our rooms until around 7 PM. When we head off in search of food. I fancy Pho – who doesn’t? – it’s the sexiest food in the world. But we can't spot a place doing that and settle for another noodley soup sort of place.
It’s called Mì Quảng Ếch Bếp Trang which translates to “Kitchen Frog Noodles”. No surprise then that it seems to specialise in frogs. A legacy of the French, I guess. I go for prawn and pork instead. Dead good, especially with loads of added chili.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppvfDKNYC8v5uaS_ADrBOXTc0fk58RmmMrM99IIBPEt SESwege1LoFcx7PMsfHeYbcrZZirYdM8uZu7qmaJJ7hCyQmdiv 0ak8neJ3-_MgOyOmzQi6FPa_vy2eAhv2EgC-_fczSuD382IdC0po9PFcGI2zGYeHUMv-MJTwjni-2NuYTNkcZ_7JEhxJ/w640-h480/noodley_soup.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppvfDKNYC8v5uaS_ADrBOXTc0fk58RmmMrM99IIBPEt SESwege1LoFcx7PMsfHeYbcrZZirYdM8uZu7qmaJJ7hCyQmdiv 0ak8neJ3-_MgOyOmzQi6FPa_vy2eAhv2EgC-_fczSuD382IdC0po9PFcGI2zGYeHUMv-MJTwjni-2NuYTNkcZ_7JEhxJ/s4000/noodley_soup.jpg)
Then I’s off to a few pubs. Simple Man first. It’s very quiet again. Just us and a couple chasing pool balls around the table without ever seeming to pot any.
“They’re the worst pool players I’ve ever seen.”
“Even worse than you, Ronald?”
“Even worse than you. That bad.”
I'm sticking to cocktails. Mojito to start. Mikey is still wimping out with beer. Bia Saigon, to be precise. It is, at least, the stronger red label one.
We continue on to Bamboo 2 Bar. Where Mikey swaps over to cocktails. Perhaps because time is passing. It’s already ten.
We finish a few doors down in The Dude. We’ve visited all the classic places tonight.
We don't make it too late. As I'm knacked and we have a 10:45 flight tomorrow. It's about 11:30 when we say "It's a day."
Back in my room I say an enthusiastic good evening to Mr. Ardmore. So enthusiastically, that he’s left completely drained.
PEN Hội An
730Đ Đ. Hai Bà Trưng,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam 560000.
Mận - Cơm gà Cao lầu
Đường Công Nữ Ngọc Hoa,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam.
Tiger Tiger Bar
V8GG+8MC,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam.
Mì Quảng Ếch Bếp Trang
177 Hồ Nghinh,
Phước Mỹ,
Sơn Trà,
Đà Nẵng 550000.
More... (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2023/06/hoy-anne.html)
I’ve left on the 8 AM alarm. To avoid breakfast horror. (Being too late). No, I do know how to turn it off. Just handy to have it set. Honestly. No, really honestly. I’m sure I could switch it off. If I needed to. All by myself, too. You’re doubting me? Come over here and say that.
Sausage and onion baguette for brekkie. I order the same as Mikey. But only because I misheard. I thought that he had asked for egg and onions. What the hell. I still eat it. Basically, it’s a hotdog. But nicer. Much nicer. Not what I wanted, though.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzKbQsYKOV_uij7IbirlSqSXpbJTaM-o9P5JHSBWbYdOK4e7AlNadH6Lm994X4f3np6PoVeLmsDFq8kNq Ie8FA8p036R3IQ2fP8-WrIXyAybayJOH88byNsEQmWaIywaj-vH81y5crFyOFp66jZ_GcMWzhMh3VI8xwk9viywtBA9w1IYR5VS Q8wd6/w640-h480/Danang_penultimate_breakfast.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzKbQsYKOV_uij7IbirlSqSXpbJTaM-o9P5JHSBWbYdOK4e7AlNadH6Lm994X4f3np6PoVeLmsDFq8kNq Ie8FA8p036R3IQ2fP8-WrIXyAybayJOH88byNsEQmWaIywaj-vH81y5crFyOFp66jZ_GcMWzhMh3VI8xwk9viywtBA9w1IYR5VS Q8wd6/s4000/Danang_penultimate_breakfast.jpg)
Mikey also has a tea bag for me. A Yorkshire tea bag. That lovely, strong Yorkshire tea. Coffee is OK, but there’s nothing like a proper strong tea to start the day. Better even than a big, fat line of industrial-strength speed.
The plan for today is to visit Hoi An, an old city about 30 km from Danang. It's 24 euros for a car to take us there and then come and pick us up again later. Bargain.
I expected there to be countryside inbetween. There's bugger all of it. The coast is being developed a pronto, with loads of new buildings and others under construction. It's getting like Spain, where long stretches of the coast are built solid.
The last few kilometres are paddy fields. But really only the last little bit.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_raNkKZUkgjY2DdOVnC67MUtab0QYWuEGIVb4JF14i VHwoR0VqCeHj6o-QYwW7m0V0b01id8L1CQxdnxS0DYdidSqxfpUEv7dwBmTvVcmNK rU60OKaqCmzdayOkMdNuQ0bOcSzKYdtYtTjK4rRJ35hEq9hT1K C-ugZUUbQJJJiBDe-pa-aClD5BJ/w640-h480/paddy_fields.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_raNkKZUkgjY2DdOVnC67MUtab0QYWuEGIVb4JF14i VHwoR0VqCeHj6o-QYwW7m0V0b01id8L1CQxdnxS0DYdidSqxfpUEv7dwBmTvVcmNK rU60OKaqCmzdayOkMdNuQ0bOcSzKYdtYtTjK4rRJ35hEq9hT1K C-ugZUUbQJJJiBDe-pa-aClD5BJ/s4000/paddy_fields.jpg)
After being dropped off, we walk a full 50 metres before spotting the first pub, PEN Hội An. Where we stop for a beer to cool down. A Saigon green. It’s cold and wet. And not much over 4% ABV. It does its cooling job.
Outside, young tourists are photographed wearing conical hats and carrying those scale-like things over their shoulders. And photograph the temple next to the pub. None of that crap for me and Mikey. We're just sticking to drinking.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh05Y7VSk4wLu9P_4MMUxx3ngWKMSiXYXbscyxLWKonm znNdFGdBexirhsCkEF0mafa9GgKAgw1IHl72NLSOARWqZuET7r 3UNU5mCB-y4dEGj-ORh5QuNNv2m-aZUx4G6jMkNVIHgg7lJK7WFY3kVqvDqYzkZK0etvdtHGgELOE_ gGrNE9yqun-5IT/w640-h480/Hoi_An_Saigon_green.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh05Y7VSk4wLu9P_4MMUxx3ngWKMSiXYXbscyxLWKonm znNdFGdBexirhsCkEF0mafa9GgKAgw1IHl72NLSOARWqZuET7r 3UNU5mCB-y4dEGj-ORh5QuNNv2m-aZUx4G6jMkNVIHgg7lJK7WFY3kVqvDqYzkZK0etvdtHGgELOE_ gGrNE9yqun-5IT/s4000/Hoi_An_Saigon_green.jpg)
We only stay for the one. As Mikey is getting peckish. Chicken rice is the local speciality. We spot a place selling it close to the river, Mận - Cơm gà Cao lầu.
It seems fairly local. All the other customers look Vietnamese. Other than the couple in a matching shirt and dress sitting next to us. Is that a thing? Matching clothes.
“I’m sure Dolores would go for that. Us wearing matching clothes.”
“You’re taking the wee, aren’t you Ronald?”
“No. Well, not totally.”
“Don’t tell porkies. You know she’d hate it.”
Yes, of course. I would, too. But I’m not going to admit that. I have the perfect riposte.
“Fuck off.”
They have the funny low tables and chairs. I love having my arse this close to the floor on a flimsy plastic seat. Which I fear may collapse under the weight of my mighty arse at any moment. I feel so empowered. In a negative way. Which is the best way, isn’t it?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhrjUm52sABIUE0oHKIxfjVUjaBvrdBDubwhXsIjI3r gnn9ZKob_wZ_7S7tLNVyKT2TDgEH181e8R1QXlx1CyKM-iZDpnWl8nFaWSIbk74Y8cZt_c0tj5bCOELy2InH0gIKYEnO5Jo 8nBqIt4Xt7MmKFChpnb0BMsSUigG7iNeDZ62ld6hIzrcXaa/w640-h360/Hoi_An_chicken_rice.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhrjUm52sABIUE0oHKIxfjVUjaBvrdBDubwhXsIjI3r gnn9ZKob_wZ_7S7tLNVyKT2TDgEH181e8R1QXlx1CyKM-iZDpnWl8nFaWSIbk74Y8cZt_c0tj5bCOELy2InH0gIKYEnO5Jo 8nBqIt4Xt7MmKFChpnb0BMsSUigG7iNeDZ62ld6hIzrcXaa/s1920/Hoi_An_chicken_rice.jpg)
The chicken rice is an extortionate 40K. 1.60 euros. Pretty good. Especially with the chili sauce mixed in. Mikey asks for an extra dollop of the chili. The extravagant bastard. One is enough for me.
I’m being annoying with my phone again. Ah, the power of mobile data.
Alexei: Is the money really called Dong over there?
Yes.
Alexei: Do they call their cents "cock"?
No. They don't have cents.
Alexei: Too bad. Do they have pictures of knobs on the bank notes?
No. Ho ho ho chi min.
Alexei: Ah I see, on all of the notes?
Yes.Such deep, deep, intellectual conversations we have. So glad I’m able to indulge in such philosophical debates from the pub now.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQw8SFjTxu-AYVEU3gxbYppHLcRdKMXBVbB_iz83K0fwHZ7qO5y0AV7-E88g3AWQKMyjaaUfRt0iXqqTJHl_jfHLqjY29f9fDdLV3Kp3Mb 777f6mX3orGkuZvjtC89KUtnt_rWE9qhnYHfPPyxihx23S6DAk-HiTy0DGgUeMPcbBBN49CLZD8s7cH/w640-h414/Hoi_An_river.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQw8SFjTxu-AYVEU3gxbYppHLcRdKMXBVbB_iz83K0fwHZ7qO5y0AV7-E88g3AWQKMyjaaUfRt0iXqqTJHl_jfHLqjY29f9fDdLV3Kp3Mb 777f6mX3orGkuZvjtC89KUtnt_rWE9qhnYHfPPyxihx23S6DAk-HiTy0DGgUeMPcbBBN49CLZD8s7cH/s4279/Hoi_An_river.jpg)
We head over the river. But it's pretty hot. We stop for another beer at Tiger Tiger Bar. At least Mikey does. I'm on cocktails: a mojito. Well, two, as it's happy hour.
You’ll never guess which beer they sell. Go on. Have a try. That’s right: Larue. No, it’s Tiger. The pub has a rather unacceptable slogan “Be a Tiger, get a pussy.” Classy.
Four is the cut-off for picking us up at the same spot we were dropped off. We head towards there in plenty of time. No point making life harder than it needs to be. As it's still fucking hot. We need to stop in another pub. When did I need an excuse for that? It's also happy hour: buy two get one free. Mojitos for me. Watery beer for Mikey.
I'm grateful of the car's aircon as we rumble and roll back towards Danang. Did I mention that it's fucking hot?
We - quite literally - chill in our rooms until around 7 PM. When we head off in search of food. I fancy Pho – who doesn’t? – it’s the sexiest food in the world. But we can't spot a place doing that and settle for another noodley soup sort of place.
It’s called Mì Quảng Ếch Bếp Trang which translates to “Kitchen Frog Noodles”. No surprise then that it seems to specialise in frogs. A legacy of the French, I guess. I go for prawn and pork instead. Dead good, especially with loads of added chili.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppvfDKNYC8v5uaS_ADrBOXTc0fk58RmmMrM99IIBPEt SESwege1LoFcx7PMsfHeYbcrZZirYdM8uZu7qmaJJ7hCyQmdiv 0ak8neJ3-_MgOyOmzQi6FPa_vy2eAhv2EgC-_fczSuD382IdC0po9PFcGI2zGYeHUMv-MJTwjni-2NuYTNkcZ_7JEhxJ/w640-h480/noodley_soup.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppvfDKNYC8v5uaS_ADrBOXTc0fk58RmmMrM99IIBPEt SESwege1LoFcx7PMsfHeYbcrZZirYdM8uZu7qmaJJ7hCyQmdiv 0ak8neJ3-_MgOyOmzQi6FPa_vy2eAhv2EgC-_fczSuD382IdC0po9PFcGI2zGYeHUMv-MJTwjni-2NuYTNkcZ_7JEhxJ/s4000/noodley_soup.jpg)
Then I’s off to a few pubs. Simple Man first. It’s very quiet again. Just us and a couple chasing pool balls around the table without ever seeming to pot any.
“They’re the worst pool players I’ve ever seen.”
“Even worse than you, Ronald?”
“Even worse than you. That bad.”
I'm sticking to cocktails. Mojito to start. Mikey is still wimping out with beer. Bia Saigon, to be precise. It is, at least, the stronger red label one.
We continue on to Bamboo 2 Bar. Where Mikey swaps over to cocktails. Perhaps because time is passing. It’s already ten.
We finish a few doors down in The Dude. We’ve visited all the classic places tonight.
We don't make it too late. As I'm knacked and we have a 10:45 flight tomorrow. It's about 11:30 when we say "It's a day."
Back in my room I say an enthusiastic good evening to Mr. Ardmore. So enthusiastically, that he’s left completely drained.
PEN Hội An
730Đ Đ. Hai Bà Trưng,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam 560000.
Mận - Cơm gà Cao lầu
Đường Công Nữ Ngọc Hoa,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam.
Tiger Tiger Bar
V8GG+8MC,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam.
Mì Quảng Ếch Bếp Trang
177 Hồ Nghinh,
Phước Mỹ,
Sơn Trà,
Đà Nẵng 550000.
More... (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2023/06/hoy-anne.html)