I forgot about my hunger when I got off the taxi in front of my hotel in Hoi An. I was excited to be in a new place, and after checking in and dumping my things into my room, I was out in the streets, eager to explore. I turned left in a crucial intersection, towards the opposite direction of Hoi An’s old quater. There was nary a tailor in sight, just houses and shops catering to the local’s needs.
She was standing on the curb, about to ride her scooter, when she called out to me in English. “I saw you on the other street,” she said. “You’re in the wrong part of town. Did you just arrive in Hoi An?” I was never the type to start a conversation when I travel, so to have someone engage me in conversation can be a treat, specially after traveling solo for a couple of days. I was just to ecstatic to be talking to somebody that even when the word “tailoring shop” was thrown into the conversation, I shrugged it off, and instead hopped into the back of the scooter when she offered to take me to the Central Market, where her shop was.