Vietnam

I wasn’t the only one feeling anxious as we stepped off the plane in Hanoi. Although it was only me with the visa challenge, if I was denied entry, it would mean a pretty radical replan of the rest of the trip. We were really hoping that the information we’d received was correct - that South Africans who have been pre-authorised to enter by the Interior Ministry were now able to get visas on arrival. Nick and the kids joined the snaking queue to the Immigration counters, while I headed to the large office for ‘Visas’. It was a bit chaotic, with poorly marked designated areas for different parts of the process, and people pushing their way around, everyone looking pretty clueless. But none so clueless as the young tattooed Canadian a few people ahead of me – “Oh, money? I didn’t know I needed money. There’s a visa fee? Where can I draw money? Photographs? I didn’t know I needed photographs. Can’t I just take one with my phone and send it to you? A form? Oh. Okay.” While the kids shuttled between Nick and I relaying messages, like, “What’s happening now? Shall we go through or give our place up in the line?” I stood behind Mr Canada, waiting to see if my papers would be approved by the bureaucratic ghosts that drifted in the shadows behind the counter. Finally, a young official emerged with my passport, a visa and a pink slip of receipt, and with a great sigh of relief, we filed through Immigration, and out into the warm bustle of night-time Hanoi.

We awoke to the muffled sounds of a thousand scooters, and peered off our little balcony at street life in the old quarter, happening in full force down below. The boys went down to choose some fruit for breakfast, and then we headed out on foot to explore the area. The old quarter of Hanoi is full on! While different in flavour to Delhi or Varanasi, its intensity is due to how much happens on the streets. Pavement life is vibrant and extensive, almost every metre is a sprawling amalgamate of streetside restaurants, with patrons eating and chatting on small plastic chairs; unofficial parking for some of the city’s 8 million scooters; cars being serviced; hair being cut; or fish being filleted. It means that pedestrians are continually weaving between tables, scooters and back onto the road, where we had some nerve-wrackingly near misses!

It was wonderful to meet up with Melissa, my cousin’s daughter, who has been living and teaching in Hanoi for the last 5 years, and was an absolute wealth of insight into life in Vietnam, and full of great recommendations. We met her and her digs-mate, Chantel, at a local Bun Cha haunt, tucked down an alley – which also served as the kitchen/extended dining area. Bun cha is a specialty of Hanoi, and is absolutely delicious: a plate of rice noodles arrives accompanied by a flavourful broth, bobbing with barbequed meat, and another plate of mixed greens. The noodles and greens are plucked up with chopsticks, dunked in the broth, scooping up tasty goodies, and munched. For this dish, we were informed, you don’t drink the broth afterwards. No need – by the time we had finished, we were absolutely stuffed, and it was nice to head out into the sunlight to walk it off – with the locals showing us how to step confidently into the traffic and wave the speedy scooters down to a stop or veer, just before they take your knees out.  

We cruised past more coffee shops than any of us had ever seen before (the coffee shop capital of the world?!) and started with our first introduction to Vietnamese – an incredibly difficult language to learn. With 6 intonations, the word ‘ma’ can mean mother, rice seedling, gravestone, horse, but, or ghost, depending on how you pronounce it. Melissa had funny stories, despite having attended Vietnamese language classes, of ordering beef noodles at a restaurant that only served beef noodles. ‘You want a Dad? You want an avo?’ Later on we realised we’d been saying ‘may I have some more rice porridge’ instead of hello. Oh well, the Vietnamese must have a good laugh quite often!

We had to sample the Vietnamese coffee, and were led to Caphe Cong, a Viet Cong styled coffee shop chain that has a vast and varied offering of local coffee specialties, including coconut coffee, egg coffee, salted coffee, yoghurt coffee, white coffee (with condensed milk), brown coffee (with milk) and a host of others. We settled on coconut coffee, the kids had a frozen caramel coffee extravaganza, all of which were brought by camo-clad waiters with walkie talkies (which are actually really useful in a narrow multi-story joint).

Buzzing a little from the caffeine hit, we headed out towards the lake, where kids of all ages were playing da cau – a kind of foot badminton (which is really tricky, we discovered!), walking and enjoying the displays and activities of ‘Europe Day’ seemingly put on by various embassies. On our first day we encountered the blend of hustle and genuine friendliness that we experienced throughout our stay in Vietnam – from the guy prowling with the contact adhesive, who would sneakily fix your shoes if you stood still for too long (you had to actually run away); to the free-taste-now-buy-twenty-stale-buns trick, and radically overpriced fruit; but also ready smiles, kids and adults keen to practice their English opening friendly conversations, and a vibe that felt industrious and inclusive. 

After a lovely wander, Melissa and Chantel left us at the water puppet theatre. We knew the show was entirely in Vietnamese, that it was an hour long, and that it’s an ancient practice villagers used to entertain themselves during the rainy season. And not much else. It was a bit of a gamble – but you can tolerate many things for an hour, so we bought our tickets and found our places in the 300 seater theatre. Well, it absolutely captivated us! The musicians, playing traditional Vietnamese instruments, like the single stringed harp, and a haunting reed flute, sat on either side of the water stage. A range of short stories unfolded with such creativity and humour that it mattered not a jot that we didn’t understand a word. Water dragons breathed fire (works) from their mouths, angry women toppled naughty husbands off their boats, and giant fish eluded energetic fishermen who tangled each other in their nets. It was such fun, and a fascinating view into practical humour that transcends language and culture.

We walked home a little more confidently, trying out the local pedestrian ‘flap’ at the scooters as we stepped into the flow of traffic. Following Melissa’s advice, we walked via Beer Street, a pedestrianised road, overflowing with Vietnamese watering holes of various kinds. So we had to test Bia Hoi, while the locals cheered loudly for Vietnam as they played football against rivals, Indonesia.       

Our following morning started with a cyclo ride to the Vietnam Women’s Museum, which gave a real insight into the lives of the many women selling flowers, stale buns or overpriced fruit. So many young women are forced into the cities, leaving behind children, husbands and aging parents, dependent on their income. The personal stories of hardship took any sting out of tourist tricks of the trade. People get by as they must. It also had sections on Women of the Vietnam war, fashion through the ages in Vietnam, a matrilineal sub-culture in the country, where the youngest girl is the favoured child, and a fascinating section on the most popular religion in Vietnam – Mother Goddess worship. It opened all our eyes! 

In the museum shop were a range of posters, including a range depicting ‘Train Street’. Train Street? This seemed interesting. We should go and see what it’s about. (One of the side effects of traveling as we have is that we often end up researching places on the fly, finding out about what we want to do as we go along. Sometimes it works for us, sometimes against, but it means that each day is a surprise!) Train street was a perfect example of the friendly hustle. A narrow street, with houses built close to the working train line is lined wall to wall with home/coffee shop variations. Fierce policemen guard the entrances to the street, allowing locals to enter, but barring entrance to foreigners unless you agreed to follow one of the enthusiastic coffee shop touts, jostling for business, who would chaperone you past the barricade while the policemen turned a blind eye, and seat you at their establishment. Having tried all the entrances, we finally caved, agreed to a tout, and then watched befuddled tourists try to make sense of situation – streams of locals passing through, but foreigners stopped and told there was no entry, until the police were “convinced” by a tout to let them through. Feeling grumpy as I sipped my coffee, I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me, having just felt compassion for the hustlers, given the hard back stories. Then it clicked – it was the policemen, using their state-endorsed power for their own ends that was riling me. Where does the hustle of individual stories end and state corruption begin? It’s a grey zone, and not a comfortable one to navigate.

Anyway, we walked the short length of track that our coffee now entitled us to see, the Instagrammers out in full force, flanked by hanging baskets and caged songbirds. Well – Train Street was interesting, in more ways than we had thought.    

Wandering deeper into the city, the Single Pillar Pagoda (or One Eyed Pagoda, as Nick started calling it), the only known structure of its kind, was balanced one legged above a square pond, edged with bonsais and tucked into a pretty, symmetrical garden. This quiet wooded space was in turn part of a huge communist memorial complex, that included Ho Chi Min’s former residence and his embalmed body, which apparently you can see on certain days. We missed Uncle Ho, but soaked up the feeling of the space, with communist banners flying advertising the 70th anniversary of the start of the Communist Party, huge marching grounds, and a linear and symmetrical aesthetic in the structures. We were trying to figure out and feel our way into communism, sovietism, capitalism, and the feel of SE Asia. The kids kept saying – “this feels soviet” or “this doesn’t feel soviet”, former soviet countries having been their introduction to communism. We continue to have lots of conversations about the ideals of communism vs capitalism, how and why each can fall over, hypocrisies that show up in all ideologies, and what systems seem to work well in different contexts, and at what cost. There’s nothing like facilitating a child to think something through to help you clarify your own thinking. 

Halong Bay is Vietnam’s prime tourist attraction, with the world-famous limestone karsts in the turquoise bay attracting 7 million tourists a year. And with the 7 million tourists come 7,000 dodgy tour offers.  We were spooked by the horror stories online and put off by quotes of R8000 for a 1-night tour from Hanoi. We did a bit more research, deliberated a lot, and finally decided to make our own way to Cat Ba island, the lesser known island on the opposite side of Halong Bay.  

We booked a local homestay and found a fantastic travel company that arranged a pick up from our hotel in Hanoi, and a bus-ferry-bus ride, right to our accommodation in Cat Ba. The island itself is not the prettiest – located just over the bay from the highly industrial Haiphong, and being developed at a rapid rate. The beach we visited wasn’t great, with dirty grey sand and murky water, populated by 100 corporate teambuilders and two over-zealous facilitators with megaphones and bad music. There is a small, organically formed ‘waterfront’ area with numerous low key restaurants, many of them displaying the Vietnamese buffet – your supper of choice, swimming in a tank - eels, fish, crayfish, clams, mantis shrimps and giant shoveller crabs. Eyeballing your dinner certainly alters your ordering decisions. Those of us eating animals all opted for creatures on the lower end of the food chain, unable to turn the Octopus Teachers into stir-fried squid supper.

Our next morning’s adventure into the bay did not disappoint. The landscape is truly spectacular, with sheer karsts towering over teal water. Our delightful local Vietnamese guide/chef, Tintin, was supported by an ‘Irish’ water guide, Joe, sporting a thick Cockney accent, who took us boating, swimming and paddling through caves and tunnels, past floating villages of fish farmers, past giant grouper kept as good luck by the local fishermen, and we even managed to spot the highly endangered Cat Bar Langur, the most endangered primate in the world, of which there are only 70 left, on a single island in the bay. (Our photos are blurry, but we’ll borrow a picture from the web to show their cool hairstyles.) 

At certain parts of the bay, large numbers of polystyrene blocks floated and gathered in alcoves, starting to disintegrate into tiny white bubbles of pollution nightmare. Apparently, during covid, the government decreed that these polystyrene blocks that the fish farmers used to keep their homes and fish ‘fields’ afloat are a problem and need to be replaced with solid plastic floats. It was a good idea, but it backfired in that thousands of these blocks were just cut loose and left in the bay to float around indefinitely. We’ve subsequently read that the local government is taking this very seriously, funding clean ups, aware that this major source of income is dependent on it not looking like a floating junk yard. We all swam a few blocks to our boat, and fortunately spent most of the day in areas free of flotsam and jetsam.  Lunch exceeded expectations, and Tintin readily shared his recipes for the various dishes, including ‘this one is my own recipe, tomato, tamarind and lots of ginger, this one, no ginger, just garlic and MSG’ – an honest chef! 

At one of the islands, the guide swam us all into shore, where he “called” a troop of macaques that had been imported from Thailand many years before. He proceeded to pontificate that in Asia, monkeys and humans live commensally, side by side in many temples and parks, and that it’s fine to offer them food respectfully. It went against all we know in South Africa – that feeding wild animals, especially monkeys, secures them a death sentence because ultimately the relationship sours. Maybe he has a point, we have seen macaques and humans coexist in many places, from the Monkey god temple in Varanasi to Buddhist stupas throughout SE Asia, but I just couldn’t get on board with it. While I hung back in the shallows in protest, the children were delighted by the little hands taking balls of rice from them – monkeys really do show us a lot about ourselves. But the best part of the day for the kids was jumping off the roof of the double story boat into the water – over and over again. Carys paired up with the captain’s grandson for some very daring leaps, while Daniel had a slip and near miss, nearly clonking his head on the lower deck on the way down, which would have ended very badly. By the end of the day, we were full up with adventure, delicious food, beautiful scenery, some things to contemplate, and some cool new people we had met.    

As we reversed our bus-ferry-bus trip to Hanoi, we prepared ourselves for our overnight train trip to Phong Nha, our first foray into train travel in Vietnam, in a 6 sleeper 2nd class cabin. As per our other train experiences, it was great! Our two roommates were quiet and considerate locals, and the 6 of us enjoyed the scenery of coconut groves and rice paddies, tended by villagers in traditional non la leaf hats, as we cruised down this narrow corridor of country. It really is a beautiful landscape – hard to imagine that great swathes were reduced to burnt out stumps and ash not so very long ago.

The father of our guesthouse hostess came to collect us in his swanky and spacious bakkie, and we were glad to be able to check in early and have some downtime in the airconditioned room that backed onto a karst, replete with verdant jungle and sure-footed goats balancing on precarious outcrops. This part of Vietnam has only recently made it onto the tourist map, and in response, many locals have hooked into the new opportunities for income with either a homestay, simple hotel, restaurant or coffee shop. It has a feel similar in some ways to Vang Vienne in Laos, a low key rural spot, sprouting with touristic opportunity. The reasons to visit this spot centre around the network of caves discovered within the limestone karsts, and the trekking in the unspoiled jungles over and around them. 

We walked the path beneath towering trees and tangled ‘snake vines’ towards Paradise Cave, wondering, with patriotic pride, how it would measure up to the splendour of the Cango Caves. Sweating from the humidity and uphill climb, we were met with a cool exhale from the mouth of the cave, and entered the belly of the karst to be gob-smacked by its scale and beauty. Stalactites and stalagmites in an astounding array of formations line the 31km cave, that extends all the way to Laos! We were able to walk 1km of the cave, and each of us was speechless at some point, either marveling at the patient intricacies of the many million-year-old forms, or wondering at the extent of this sacred space hidden beneath the earth’s skin.

Our second day gave us time to savour the ‘B list’ attractions of the region – an hilarious encounter with ducks at an entrepreneurial local duck farmers house, and the botanical garden. Who knew that you can make a duck pellet cup by placing your feet sole to sole, that generates a duck feeding frenzy rivaling the ticklishness of the fish foot pedicure! We were in hysterics. The ducks are happy and well cared for, and it must be the only duck farm where duck is not an option as a filling for the local Vietnamese pancakes. 

The Botanical Gardens, our afternoon expedition, was a surprise. Expecting a garden, it was more like a wander on a path through the jungle, with a delicious little river coursing through it, where one can peel off and swim in pools, surrounded by creepers, columns of marching ants, and a kaleidoscope of varied butterflies. As we walked along chatting, one of the kids piped up, “So what actually is civilization – because people here don’t use knives and forks but they’re a civilisation?” This triggered a robust discussion about cultures, how words are used, and what a word like ‘civilisation’ might mean. (Consensus at the end was civilization had a lot more to do with being able to benefit the group than versions of polite custom, and that all of us are probably civilized and uncivilized in different ways.) Getting home was a little tricky, as our driver had abandoned us, but we eventually found a ride, and sitting around often generates new games, like Cryptic Emoji Messages, that emerged from this stint. 

Waving goodbye to Phong Nha, it was a short 5 hour train hop to Hoi An, and we fell in love with it! Despite it heaving with tourists, largely from Asia and Australia, it oozes charm with its endless lanterns, heritage architecture and quaintness. The highlight of our time there was the lantern-making class, with gentle, encouraging Thuy ‘the Lantern Lady’ guiding us through the process. We were super-chuffed with our creations that turned out much better than we had thought they would, and that have sparked a form of creativity we hope to continue at home. Cruising the streets, where local tailors fit and produce elegant suits and dresses, we couldn’t bring ourselves to consider anything vaguely warm in the steamy humidity. So at the kids’ suggestion, we went all in with the Hoi An trend, and got matching tropical outfits in light cotton. We look like a festive walking jungle – it’s hilarious!

Fortunately Melissa had mentioned the beach at Hoi An, it hadn’t even registered on our radar, and we would have been quite happy pottering around the town. But a few kms out of town, the gorgeous beach of An Bang was a brilliant spot for swimming, relaxing and being entertained by the smooth sales patter of the women selling trinkets on the beach – “Mrs, it looks great on you, yes, open your heart – and you, Mr, you open your wallet. Be a man! How big is your wallet?” 

We could have stayed longer at Hoi An – it has layers of interest and lots to explore. Although there are tourist traps galore – like the coconut boat outing that was fun, but felt like a total tourist sausage factory – there are also more sedate and subtle dimensions to the town that are alluring. But our time was up, and we took our second overnight train, down south to Ho Chi Min City or Saigon, as the locals still call it. 

The city itself doesn’t have the old world character of Hanoi, although it seems more spacious and orderly. We were in an AirBnB apartment, in a block decidedly outside of the tourist zone. Walking the pavements with the kids, we got lots of looks, some quizzical, some smiling. And ordering supper in a little pavement restaurant had the usual ridiculous communication/mis-communication via Google translate. In the end, we had no idea what we had ordered, but it tasted good, and the owners were really friendly. So we returned every night of our stay and had delicious, unknown things for supper, and on our last night were hugged goodbye by our hosts.

Our time in Saigon was full. A visit to the war museum filled our first day. Walking through the outside plaza, dominated by enormous American aircraft, artillery and tanks, you get an inkling of the David and Goliath story told inside frome the perspective of the Viet Cong. It’s graphic, well-presented and a shocking view for those of us used to the Western narrative of the Vietnam war. The horror inflicted on villagers, women, children, the elderly and infirm – never mind the landscape, plants and animals – for so many years, speaks to the dangers of ideological warfare, as well as the resilience of nature and the human spirit. As Alan Watts said, you can trust a war of greed because you don’t destroy what you want to capture, but a war of ideology justifies the destruction of everything and everyone, and is much more dangerous. The ongoing impact of Agent Orange on generations of people became visible to our eyes as we left the museum. And the functional blend of free market communism/socialism that has emerged decades down the line is a stark reminder that war is dreadful way of “protecting a community”. 

The Cu Chi tunnels of the Viet Cong was our second day’s expedition. Despite a super-annoying tour guide, whose twin passions of Karaoke and bad jokes he managed to weave into the tour at regular intervals, it was a really good experience.  Climbing down into the tunnels, stooping or crawling to move through, pouring sweat all the while – it made imagining life in these tunnels very real. We were so relieved to get back into the sunshine, to stretch our backs out, and walk around easily. It’s insane that people lived months and years in these tunnels, having babies, setting up preschools, cooking, sleeping – hoping all the while not to be discovered, that gas wouldn’t be pumped into the tunnels nor a bomb dropped through an opening or a flame thrower fired up in an entrance. The shooting range attached to the tunnel area offers tourists the opportunity to buy bullets and fire AK47s and M16s. The constant staccato firing is deafening up close, and is a chilling juxtaposition to the birdcalls that echo through the bamboo and palm tree forests. How grateful we are not to live in a warzone.

For our third day, we had vacillated between having a down day or going on a tour of the Mekong Delta. Finally the outing won, and we hopped into a combi with a delightful South Korean family (and a really great guide, Phuong) who we spent the day with. The family’s son, Sungjae, was just a year older than Carys, and it was really nice to be able to make a friend for the day. The We spent most of the day on or between the islands, trying out even more fruits that we hadn’t heard of before, listening to some local music, checking out the bees, visiting a local coconut sweet-making home-industry, and eyeing the special snake wine. Our guide pulled enormous geckos and cobras out of the bottle that looked decidedly like a formalin jar from the anatomy building, and dared us to taste it. I said I would if she would, so we toasted each other’s health and downed a tot. It was surprisingly not that foul-tasting, although I don’t think I’ll be making a habit of it, despite its promised benefits. Lunch was another huge feast, with a whole ‘elephant ear fish’ placed  centre-stage amongst the dishes, and after lunch we were paddled down one of the waterways, Vietnamese hats perched on our heads. Despite being touristy, it was fun and varied, and gave us an peek into the lives of people who live, farm and are industrious in many ways on the mighty Mekong.

And then it was time to leave. A bus trip to Cambodia awaited, and we were remembering our anxious entry into the country that felt like a lifetime ago. We really loved Vietnam – although much more tourist savvy than Laos, we felt welcomed and had our eyes opened to different perspectives and ways of living. As a country it has an enormous amount to offer – and we could totally see why Melissa’s one year stint in Vietnam grew into five – there’s just not enough time to see it all!