There have been moments on this trip where we have looked at one another and said, “well, that could have gone better” or “wish we had another go at that”. Moments like a missed exit ramp leading to a four-hour detour on our road trip in the heart of South Africa or the time we left our bag unattended while snorkeling on a secluded beach leading to our “walking around money” walking off. They were always little instants that were easily remedied or quick to learn from. But we had one mulligan, I am afraid, that viciously engulfed us for three weeks… the country of Vietnam.
After weeks of ease, hopping on and off of the tourist track in Thailand, we headed to Vietnam, a country, whose doors to US tourism opened in the 90s. With visions of authentic encounters surrounded by a newly accessible nation, Vietnam excited us. We were anxious to compare and contrast tourist savoy Thailand with our next stop. However, we discovered that off the Western tourist track does not mean new to tourism. We were blindsided by a well-established, though completely new type of tourism created by the wants and needs of Vietnam’s largest population of visitors… the Chinese. With all-inclusive tours, massive buses, and a tourism net that we found nearly impossible to escape, our way of gently traveling was exhausting and unsuccessful. Add to our frustration, a bout of food poisoning that nearly killed Jonathan, a 12-hour overnight bus with us sandwiched on one tiny bed with a middle-aged Vietnamese woman, and an unexpected town catering entirely to Russian tourists and you have three weeks of us shouting “Mulligan!” on repeat.
Though we fumbled our first look, we managed to stir up some good laughs, surround ourselves in incredible beauty, and let Vietnam’s way of life intrigue and surprise us.
Straight from the airport, we grabbed a quick dinner (of fried chicken… I hope. The language barrier had us concerned with “dog” as an option on the menu) and popped in our sleeping compartment on the overnight train to Sapa, a town nestled in the hills of Northern Vietnam.
After a steaming bowl of pho for breakfast, we wandered about town through the cool mist of this humid, alpine country. Stumbling across a dance competition where men and women were dressed in elaborate costumes dancing to music foreign to our ears, I felt a moment of “Yes! This is exactly what I was hoping for!”
However, per the theme of this trip, our trekking guide later explained (with exasperation) that the dancers were Chinese and brought in to compete as entertainment for “their tourists.” Vietnam has spent decades working to provide their primary international visitors the experience “they” are looking for. I worry the people of this country will lose the confidence that there are people who travel to experience Vietnam itself.
The next morning, with a carefully selected guide, we meandered through the cascades of terraced rice paddies and brightly colored Hmong hill-tribe villages for two days.
We learned about rice field maintenance (hint: it is intense) and spent the evening helping to cook (well… we rolled some egg rolls) and eating at a home-stay in the hills.
Before bed, our host and some unnamed locals who joined us for dinner, helped us to multiple shots of “happy water” with “Ee oh bay ha!” chanted before each throw-back.
I’ll blame the language barrier as the reason we finally bowed out after four drinks… 🙂
The hill county was stunning and despite the relentless touts from the village ladies and the indescribable illness that set Jonathan’s 15lb weight loss into motion, Sapa made for one of our most unique treks to date.
Our mulligan moment from Sapa: Jonathan does not eat the soup.
Allowing ourselves multiple days in Hanoi, we planned on getting a true grasp on this culturally rich capitol city. We had a street food tour booked for our first night, a list of historically and architecturally significant sites to wrap our heads around, and a home-base in the center of this busy city with plenty of small streets, restaurants, and shops to explore.
Unfortunately, our first 48 hours looked like this:
And our first meal looked like this:
Eventually, we pulled ourselves together and stepped into a city going through a massive transformation. Women balanced baskets of fruit and fish on their shoulders while the narrow streets of the Old Quarter surged with thousands of motorbikes participating in what one friend of ours named, “A Ballet of Chaos”.
This was a city where horns deafened you to conversation and traffic laws were, at best, optional. Smooth negotiation and a “don’t hesitate” attitude was needed to cross the street. Sidewalks were filled by tiny tables set with bowls of noodles and the shores of Hoan Kiem Lake hosted tai chi, badminton, and chess games.
Mulligan moment from Hanoi: Spend a full week out of the hotel room.
We have all seen the postcards and know that no trip to Vietnam is complete without seeing the famed Halong Bay. Knowing by now that this is a country packed to the brim with tourists, we tried our best to find a trip a bit off the beaten track. We chose to travel north a bit and visit Bai Tu Long Bay instead where “similar views but less people would be found”. As our boat wound its way through the limestone cliffed islands, which poked through the mist and seemed from another world, we sat and sadly watched as the trash-filled water passed below us and boat after boat crossed our path. Contrary to nearly all natural wonders, this seems a place better seen photographs.
Our mulligan moment from Bai Tu Long Bay: be grateful for the experience but completely avoid it next time.
Vietnam might have given us some tough times, but we did have a great day conquering fears while abseiling down 200 foot waterfalls in Dalat.
And we took a camera class that walked us around early morning harbors, fish sauce factories, and neighborhoods in Hoian while teaching us how to “get in there” for the best shots and use our aperture setting appropriately. You can click on a few of our best shots!
Our final stop in Vietnam was Ho Chi Mihn City. With only a day left before our flight out, we regrettably sped our way through this energized city of past turmoil. We spent most of the day visiting the Reunification Palace, where the first Communist tanks arrived in April, 1975, and time has eerily stood still ever since.
The famous scene of a soldier running into the building and up the stairs to unfurl a VC flag from the balcony took place while in a reception chamber, the head of the South Vietnamese government waited with his improvised cabinet. ‘I have been waiting since early this morning to transfer power to you’, he said to the VC officer who entered the room. ‘There is no question of your transferring power’, replied the officer. ‘You cannot give up what you do not have.’
Mulligan moment of Ho Chi Mihn City: Not leaving time to thoroughly learn the history of the war and the Vietnamese’s perspective of American involvement.
It is never easy to leave a place of which you may never return with a feeling of regret. This was not an easy post to write as it displayed our ineptitude as travelers to adapt to a new set of rules and reminded us of a time when we nearly gave up on exploring. We sought out comfort food like never before, and we sighed with exhaustion when trying to make decisions and plans. But, funny enough, knowing what we know now, as desperate as we were to get out of Vietnam, we were equally as desperate to have another go at it.
Eastbound and Down 