Vietnam – three pairs of pants

16 November 201526 January 2018

Day 63 (Mon 16 Nov): Hanoi to Vientiane

So long, Vietnam. And thanks for all the fish. And the dogs, ducks, water buffalo, spiders, jelly fish, goats, cats, and caterpillars…

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy Vietnam – on the contrary, it’s provided some of my trip’s highlights – but it was tiring. So difficult to get under the surface. They’ve decided what the tourist experience will be and that’s what you get, although I suspect knowing the language would open up much more. But the people were friendly and welcoming, and I felt safe despite all the horror stories. I wonder whether when those bad things happened, they felt more intense because it’s so out of character for the place. But if I fell asleep on the train with my bag in front of me, I reckon there’d be more chance of it being there when I woke up than if I was in London…

The Vietnamese were more street-savvy than the Cambodians, which maybe added to the sense that, despite them being very smiley and helpful, they’d put a barrier up. Rigid processes were not to be broken and, whilst it’s true the world over that putting someone in a uniform increases their sense of importance, it was marked in Vietnam. Not arrogance, but a “you can’t touch me” attitude.

Traffic in Hanoi (or “Ha Noise” as my two-year-old nephew rather insightfully called it) was loud, but wasn’t as chaotic as I was expecting. Maybe all the stories I’d heard had raised my expectations, maybe I was already used to the bustle which had gradually increased since I hit Siem Reap, maybe my central London baseline was higher than most people’s. Whilst it was loud, it wasn’t aggressive*. And they didn’t drive very fast – not even 30mph – in the cities. The only time I went above 60kph was when I asked the mini-van driver to detour off Highway 1 on the way to Da Nang. Other than that, it was all very civilised.

* For those who know what I’m talking about: taxi horns, etc are a major third, repeated with a diminuendo – it attracts attention but in a non-confrontational way (as opposed to the augmented fourths of the large lorries, which obviously justify a little more urgency).

Can I be honest? I’m getting a little tired of travelling. By that I mean that the constant planning and moving on is very effortful and not relaxing. I worked out that not only have I been moving on quite quickly (Hoi An was my longest stop in Vietnam at four nights, and one of those was in a dive), but the distances involved means that although the journeys are more comfortable than Cambodia, they’re also a lot longer. And on Monday morning, I was regretting booking the early flight from Hanoi, as it meant a 5am start (which actually sounds worse than it is because Asia gets up early anyway and my body clock has adjusted accordingly. I actually rather like it).

And what’s the point of what I’m doing? Fundamentally, it’s to enjoy myself. So I decided that I’d take it easier – and that’s part of the reason I decided to fly straight into Vientiane (central Laos) rather than Pakse (south) – less travelling. It was also because the flight to Pakse was very expensive and stopped in Vientiane anyway 😉

At the airport: universal icons for the correct usage of the drinking water sink:

But not sure what they were trying to communicate with this one (in the aeroplane):

Visa on arrival was relatively painless but time-consuming. One of those things that we’ll tell our grandchildren about and they’ll be confused as to why we needed paper passports and visas. And we’ll refer to it as “the olden days”. Much easier just to do a digital body scan as you walk through and be done with it. Even without that technology (which, of course, has major privacy implications among other things), I can’t help but feel that it’s an area just waiting to be made more efficient…

I like Laos. Yes, I know it’s early days but I just know. It’s not any one thing in particular, but a general sense. For instance, getting a taxi from the airport was blissfully easy: the prices are fixed ($7); you buy a ticket from the information desk and the next driver in the queue picks you up and takes you straight to your accommodation. No scrum, no haggling, no stress 🙂

My taxi driver was really friendly and spoke reasonable English (most on this trip have been limited to only those words required to do their jobs). He kindly taught me the key traveller words (thank you, hello, goodbye, how much? Expensive, Do you have? Numbers 1-10, etc). The language seems much more accessible than Vietnamese (although I believe it’s still tonal). Half an hour later, sat in my room I could physically feel a reduction in stress. I guess I’d been aware of its constant background presence in Vietnam but now that it’s suddenly gone, I’ve realised how much it was affecting me. Not being able to do my own thing like I’d been able to do in Cambodia, always on the tourist trail, the constant pressure to part with my time and my money.

Sat in a street cafe (which, you’ll know by now, really is the only way to eat in Asia) watching the traffic outside, I suddenly became aware of what was missing – horns. Relative silence, by all accounts. Quite a few pick up trucks, which I haven’t seen elsewhere, along with the obligatory scooters and cars. But gone was the constant cacophony of beeps that had accompanied me through Vietnam. Looking up it could have been Vietnam but it was quieter, much quieter. The manic bustle had been replaced by a laidbackness that was almost tangible.

And, as I’d travelled south, the heat was back. All thirty degrees of it.

A notice on this cafe seemed to sum up the place:

With a whole late afternoon and evening to explore the place, I figured that getting an early flight wasn’t so bad after all. I wandered. And this is what I found…

Temple locked, but moth open for photographic opportunity:

I took out $250 from an ATM and was presented with a massive wodge of notes. Paper notes. No more plastic ones, which is a shame as they’re very practical.

Laotian written script (called “abugida”, or “alphasyllabary” which is a segmental writing system where consonant-vowel sequences are written as a unit) means back to the beautiful, but utterly bewildering, patterns, like Cambodian:

Another outdoor gym:

With additional mobility workout instructions on lamppost (basic mobility seems part of the Asian workout – get up early and there’ll be all ages (actually, now that I think about it, it’s mostly the older generation) swinging their arms, etc):

No cars on the road near the river, which had been pedestrianised and was very undeveloped for the main coastal road of a capital city:

Wandering through the night market:

… it struck me that the clothes were small. Nay, tiny. Good job I don’t need anything as there’s no way I’d fit into any of the clothes they were selling.

And, best of all, there was no hassling. Nothing. Nada. I knew I was going to like this place 🙂

15 November 201526 January 2018

Day 62 (Sun 15 Nov): Hanoi (Hoa Lo prison, Old Quarter)

“Mind if I use your computer?”

“Yes, no problem.”

I’d got in from the sleeper train at 5:30am and my hotel wasn’t open yet. Lights were on in a hostel along the way, so I used their internet to plan for a while. Quite a while. I wouldn’t have asked in England, but their relaxed approach to stuff like this is great. We could learn a lot.

Sunday chilling street-side with tea and stools:

… on the way to the “Remains of Hoa Lo prison”. Only it’s not remains, it’s a fully-restored French colonial mansion:

I’m getting used to the Vietnamese approach to museums – one-sided, “can’t really tell what the truth is in all of this” propaganda. It’s getting both annoying and tiring. Some examples:

The prison “confined and persecuted the body and mind of revolutionary patriotic solders… who kept their steady sense of purpose.”
It was built to form “a complete autocratic ruling system to aid their domination and oppression of the Vietnamese people.”

Lots of words. No real meaning. But the building was impressive:

And this is what I gleaned before I got fed up with the subjective reporting:

Built in 1896
1946 – 54: used as a prison to detain Vietnamese soldiers
1964 – 73: used to remand US pilots
1993: restored, embellished and classified as a “revolutionary relic of Hanoi”

It was built on an area formerly known as Phu Khanh village which, as the only destination in the area where home applicances were made, became known as Hoa Lo (“portable stove”). When the French colonists turned up, they moved everyone and built a prison, courthouse and headquarters for the secret police. It was known as the “Hao Lo” prison.

Photographs of those involved in the Hanoi poisoning had no context or explanation. Turns out that the Vietnamese hatched a plot to poison the entire French colonial army’s garrison to make way for a rebel army to capture Hanoi (you’ve got to admire their guts). Only it didn’t work out quite as expected as the soldiers fell ill, but didn’t die; and one of the cooks involved had felt guilty, gone to church for confession, and the French priest then told the government officials who duly arrested and executed those involved. A good story, but I now know why the Vietnamese didn’t elaborate…

On the flip side, there was a whole section about how well they’d treated the captured US pilots. Photos and videos of them playing sport, being given hair cuts and celebrating Christmas did, I decided, need to be consumed with caution. I recalled the videos the Nazis made, fattening up some Jews in order to make it look like they were being well-treated. Not saying that the Vietnamese didn’t treat them well, but their blatant one-sided reporting doesn’t do them any favours as you then can’t trust anything you’re told. I wasn’t sure whether the US soldiers naming it the “Hanoi Hilton” was irony or accuracy.

And then it talked about the US bombing South Vietnam and I started to get really confused. I thought they were fighting the communist North, supporting the South who didn’t have the necessary resources..?

I’d originally been planning to visit the “Vietnam History Museum”, but decided I couldn’t cope with any more subjective reporting so went to sit by the lake instead:

With locals (some in suits) on their lunch break, squatting to eat or smoke:

Five minutes later I heard “Hello, I’m a doctor.” I thought for a moment that he was going to diagnose me by sight, but soon realised his true objective, which he then confirmed: “I speak to tourists to practise my English.”

Oh not another one. It’s great they want to improve but I really have done my fair share now. Maybe I’m more approachable as a single female tourist. Mind you, in always getting asked for directions (among other things) back home so perhaps it’s just me. It’s just that when their English isn’t very good, it’s very, very tiring. I really wasn’t in the mood, so I explained I’d done it quite a few times and that I’d just like to sit. He was very lovely about it and left me alone. Then a fish jumped out of the water and all was well again (no photo, obviously – they don’t hang around).

Spent the afternoon wandering round the Old Quarter. Each street is named after one of 36 professions. For instance, this must be “Cobbler Street”:

Other random observations:

Can’t remember whether I mentioned that in Hoi An, I’d walked through the market and noticed someone diligently going through an older lady’s hair. Lice? No, something clearly far worse – grey hairs. She was systemtically going through her tresses and plucking out the short grey hairs. That’s why they’ve all got jet black hair! I told you appearance was important to the Asians. It also explains why some of the older ladies are completely bald!

Thick bunches of electric cables – some strategic cuts and I reckon you could take out most of Hanoi:

The city gate:

Markets with very narrow aisles (this is one of the reasons I avoid markets, but mostly I avoid them because I just get hassled to buy stuff I don’t want):

Rush hour also happens on a Sunday:

And then I needed to cross the busy road. I actually like crossing the road because I get a real sense of satisfaction that I can do it. Halfway across, I felt a light touch on my elbow, and turned to see a late-middle-aged lady shuffling to keep directly in my “traffic shadow” and staring beyond me fearfully at the oncoming traffic. She looked up at me, smiled shyly and said “Follow”. I smiled and laughed. She relaxed and clung on harder, and we slowed walked across the road together. It amused me that a local had hidden behind a tourist to get across!

Last stop was St Joseph’s Cathedral. A magnificent building:

.. and interior (although a service was on, but as I couldn’t understand anything, I made a swift exit):

Then I sat in my favourite local cafe (tasty, cheap):

… and watched the throngs who gathered for the service – another reminder of how much religion pervades their everyday life in a way that it doesn’t in England:

A good, chilled day. Wandering the streets of cities gives you a real sense of the place. I feel like I know Hanoi 🙂

14 November 201526 January 2018

Day 61 (Sat 14 Nov): Homestay to Lao Cai (trekking, sleeper train)

Slept really well. And then a leisurely morning and pancake breakfast before we set off again.

Two of the group had departed the previous evening, and then Andrin and Jessica joined us. They fitted into the group perfectly and were really great company.

This is Mao’s home:

And we walked. We kept stopping for photos:

The views were not only breathtaking, but vast and all around us:

More rice fields:

An out-of-focus caterpillar:

The path ahead:

And behind:

More ridiculously pictureseque images:

Jane (Mao’s sister) and I – another European giant moment:

And these three:

We try to say hello when we pass locals. Seeing these made me wonder what they make of us. At that age, they’ll have no context. Will they ever? We’ll just become a natural part of their lives – tourists walking past their houses, saying hello.

Yesterday, I mentioned the leaves outside a house means visitors are not welcome. And we came across this today:

Jane explained that it was often to do with health – when somone was sick, and the hospital couldn’t help, the local shaman was called for and these leaves put outside to warn others not to enter.

Westerners pronouced Sapa with the accent on the first syllable. Vietnamese just have words. In fact, it’s “Sa Pa” here – and both syllables are given equal weighting. Just noticed the slight difference in pronounciation.

Ducks:

Jane leading the way, whislt she was also winding hemp for making into clothes (they make new ones each year – I don’t think they have many, so they’ll get worn out quickly):

Tiago showed me how to take a proper panoramic pic:

And I finally got a butterfly, but it’s a little ‘un:

Manual cutting (using a machine) of potato to dry and use as animal feed during the winter. Such intensive work:

Wasps (out of focus again – I really should get some photography lessons. And a decent camera):

And all too soon we were stopping for a very late lunch. From there, it was a short trek to our final stop where three of us were picked up and taken back to Sapa, and then Lao Cai, to catch the night train home.

Such a brilliant experience. I thoroughly enjoyed my two days – my foot held up well, the views were breath-taking and the group were great. Another highlight of my trip 🙂

13 November 201526 January 2018

Day 60 (Fri 13 Nov): Lao Cai to Sapa (museum, trekking, homestay)

Go with it. Most of the time, the locals don’t tell you what’s going on, but they haven’t let me down yet. So I just go with it. Eventually found myself with a dish of Pho Bo at a counter in Sapa market:

… and outside a running track (deceased):

After sunrise from the train:

… a bus had picked us up from the train station (which is some 38km away in Lao Cai) and dropped us in the centre of Sapa. Gaggles of H’mong (one of the local tribes) women were running after each tour bus that came in, hoping to pick up clients for trekking:

Mao used to be one such H’mong woman. Then someone told Lily about her, and now all Lily’s clients get sent to Mao. She’s smiley, welcoming and great fun. I explained that I couldn’t walk for very long because of my foot, so she suggested I explore Sapa that morning, and her husband would pick me up to join the others for lunch. The afternoon trek was easier and shorter (and the moto ride less precarious!).

And so I found myself in Sapa museum. It was one of the better museums:

Sapa is a mountainous district of Lao Cai province
Six ethnic groups, each with their own clothes, culture, language, traditions and festivals: Hmong (52%), Dao, Kinh, Tay, Giay and Phu La)

In 1909 the area was used as military sanatorium
By 1914, the first hotels had started appearing
1929 saw the first telephone line, with electricity following the next year
In 2009, the population was 52,899

I’m always fascinated by cultural aspects, beliefs and systems that remind you that so much of what we’re used to is not universal:

There are regulations on the order of middle names – you cannot marry within the first nine generations (I’m not sure of the detail of this, but I assume it’s to prevent children from people whose DNA is too similar)
In an ethnic village, if a bunch of leaves with animal jaw bones is outside, visitors are not welcome because they are praying
Do not touch a child’s head – they believe the soul resides in the head and if a stranger touches it, the soul will get scared and run away and then the child gets sick
No whistling as it calls the devil

On the way to meet my lift, I saw a woman filling a steamer with purified water. I don’t think she knew that it was not necessary as she was going to boil it and it occurred to me that, even if she was doing it to prevent build up within the machine, she may not actually know this. I learnt it at school, and education isn’t so great here.

And I saw a wedding:

Pascal (my mountain bike guide in Hoi An) had explained that the Vietnamese considered it good luck if you see a funeral first in the day, and bad luck if you see a wedding first. Another example of how superstitious they are, and how “luck” is so important to them. In parting, I’ve often been wished good luck for both myself and my family. But then I figured it was also Friday 13th, so decided that the two bad lucks would cancel each other out. This is another way you make your own luck – make up the rules as you go along. To suit you.

Caught up with these two on moto to meet the others (made me laugh!):

And we passed much evidence of more building. Sapa is changing. Vietnam is changing. I’m glad I’m seeing it now as it’s about to get even more touristy. And then the tourists will want to move away from these centres, because what they came to see there has gone. It’s a pity Cambodia and Vietnam don’t understand this – and I fear they won’t before it’s too late.

But the views were still spectacular:

And I couldn’t help snap this cutie:

A lot of the kids run wild and bottomless, and motos are such a fundamental part of the culture, this photo seemed to sum up the place:

Lots of wildlife, as you’d expect. For instance, there’s a spider in here:

Water buffalo:

Wild horses:

Another spider (easier to see this one):

The terrain is a mat of rice fields, which I thought actually made the landscape look really interesting:

As families marry and have children, their rice field is divvied up accordingly, hence the patchwork:

Sapa is high, and we climbed from there. With a more temperate climate, it’s pleasant, especially at this time of the year:

And we trekked:

Great company and great conversation. We talked about pretty much everything. There was a variety of ages, backgrounds and nationalities, but everyone was intelligent, kind and great fun. It made the experience.

We arrived at Mao’s at about 4:30pm and lounged around for an hour or so until dinner (she wouldn’t have any help, which was a shame because I’d have actually liked to cook with her):

And then the rice wine made an appearance. Several appearances, actually. Not for me, obviously – I tried it and then politely the declined the following offers of “just a little bit more”!

Mao’s English was very good indeed, but without much formal education I wondered how she’s learnt it. “Tourists,” she replied. Wow. She’s been hosting for about five years, and has learnt it all in that time. Can’t write or read it, but speaks it very well.

And then to bed, happy and looking forward to tomorrow.

12 November 201526 January 2018

Day 59 (Thu 12 Nov): Bai Tu Long Bay to Hanoi to Lao Cai (cave, sleeper train)

… And the by-now-obligatory sunrise photo (which, if you look, very closely resembles one of the sunset shots from last night, but a different quality of light):

Our final stop before returning to port (nooooo!) was a natural cave:

It’s not the biggest and doesn’t have lots of rocks that look like animals (with various degrees of imagination), but it also wasn’t overrun with tourists, so I enjoyed it a lot. And the views were great, too:

It was whilst I was sorting stuff to check out that I noticed the remote control… for the toilet:

Another toilet specimen to add to my trip’s collection 🙂

Lunch was at 10:30am.

Very early, but we weren’t due back to Hanoi until 5pm. And then it occurred to me that the staff serve four meals every day because they do two lunches: one for the out-going lot, and another for the incoming bunch.

An amazing trip – spectacular scenery, lots of fun, great company and luxury accommodation. My only wish was that we’d had more time to just be. Having lots of activities was good, but I’d have liked to just sit on deck or in my cabin and watch the world (specifically the limestone karsts) go by:

If there’s something on, you’d feel like you were missing out, but we don’t need to be entertained every minute of the day. Overall, though, a great trip.

Returning to port meant returning to Wi-Fi, and finding out that the sleeper train I’d booked wasn’t available. With live availability and payment upfront I’d assumed that it meant it was booked, but it actually meant that my request had been submitted. And because I hadn’t been able to check my email, I hadn’t found out. So I ventured to Lily’s (again) when I arrived in Hanoi. I also showed her the homestay I’d chosen. She looked at me earnestly. “Touristy”, she said. Oh dear, really? The reviews didn’t indicate it, but she was right – it wasn’t that far out of Sapa. And anything with good TripAdvisor reviews would be busy, I knew. She suggested another. I trusted her judgement. Getting back to port had also meant getting back to the masses* – our toilet stop was at a tourist department store full of overpriced goods, with the bus helpfully dropping us at the back of the store and picking us up from the front:

Standing in the queue for the loo, a lady pushed past. I tapped her on the shoulder. Didn’t even need to say anything. She mumbled something and went to the back of the queue. I won’t even bother telling you what nationality she was – I’m sure you can guess.

* I should clarify that I’m not adverse to people. In fact, I’m very fond of quite a few of them (if you’ve been invited to read this, you’re one of them), but I don’t like big groups of people. I’m one of life’s natural introverts so find being around lots of people very tiring.

“Sleeper” train is a bit of a misnomer, as was “soft bed”. Slightly more give than concrete but there’s not much in it. Don’t Vietnamese people have hips and shoulders? Took ages to get to sleep – every position was uncomfortable, but I think it was mostly because the train was throwing me around. But I eventually fell asleep…

11 November 201526 January 2018

Day 58 (Wed 11 Nov): Bai Tu Long Bay (kayaking, swimming, pearl farm)

General consensus was to stay three days in Halong Bay, if you could. With half-day journey times either end, it seemed sensible. So glad I did. Five “three dayers” left the others to go out on the day boat.

It was raining hard:

… but we went kayaking anyway and saw a different side of Bai Tu Long Bay. With nobody else around, we explored caves and islets.

After lunch the sun came out:

… so we did it all again (different route, of course). Seeing the place in both weather conditions, I felt like I got a really good sense of the place. Kayaking through Bai Tu Long bay was definitely a highlight of my trip:

Then swimming off the boat:

And I’ll let some more photos of the place speak for themselves:

Only thirty percent of farmed oysters actually produce a pearl. And only ten percent produce “perfect” pearls – “perfect” is defined by the colour (which depends on the mother pearl) and evenness of shape. We saw the whole process, from the nucleus (created from ground oyster shell, if you remember from the one on Phu Quoc island?) being inserted into the oyster:

To the “incubation” for one month in calm waters:

And then transfer to the moving water for growing (between three and six years, depending on the type and size):

Then the suspense as they’re opened:

The best pearls are then graded, with each label detailing the grade (A to AAAA), colour (signified by the letter preceding the grade), the type (written in words) and the size (in mm):

The farm is actually Japanese owned, and these oysters are shipped all over the world.

Later that evening, I was introduced to Shaheena, who is also travelling alone. She travels the world finding precious “stones”. Once she’s found some, she’ll stay in the area for a few days and sketch designs which she takes to the jewellers who make up her creation and ship it to her.

She’d bought three pearls that morning. Back in the US, she’s built up a business (often through “I love your necklace, can you get me one?”) and resells the pieces for a 500% mark up. With a background in sourcing aeroplane parts, she’s redirected her energies to something she’s more passionate about. She was keen to tell me about the quality of the places she stays, and she clearly hobnobs with her target audience, but the sheer tenacity involved in doing something like this fascinated me. It makes you stop and think. If she can do it, why can’t I? Well, you know, not that particular domain, obviously, but she was interesting and inspiring and I enjoyed her company very much.

Here’s the by-now-obligatory sunset shot to end another wonderful day:

10 November 201526 January 2018

Day 57 (Tue 10 Nov): Hanoi to Bai Tu Long Bay (cruise, fishing village, vegetable carving)

Our tour guide gave us some useful information on our trip down to the port:

The Chinese occupied Vietnam for over one thousand years
“Viet” means “the king’s people” and “Nam” means “living in the south” (because Vietnam is south of China)
There are 56 different ethnic groups
The south has two seasons: rainy and dry
North and Central Vietnam have four seasons like us (and, of course, it’s currently autumn)
Population of Vietnam is 94 million (I think a previous tour guide said it was 92m, so close enough)
HCM city is the economic capital, whilst Hanoi is the cultural capital
Hanoi (which, of course the locals call “Ha Noi” because they only have one syllable per word, so multi-syllable words are broken into separate groups of letters – this makes learning Vietnamese even more difficult, because you don’t know where one “word” ends and another starts) means “inside the river”. Building it within the bend in the river made it easier to defend

He then explained that Ha Long (“descending dragon”) Bay was the seventh natural wonder of the world. This is only slightly accurate. It was one of the “New7Wonders of Nature” in a recent (2007 – 2011) global poll. Another tour guide had apparently said it was the eighth natural wonder. I think what they’re referring to is actually UNESCO – it was designated a World Heritage Site under criterion vii (“to contain superlative natural phenomena or areas of exceptional natural beauty and aesthetic importance”) and criterion viii (“to be outstanding examples representing major stages of earth’s history, including the record of life, significant on-going geological processes in the development of landforms, or significant geomorphic or physiographic features”).

Either way, it’s a spectacular seascape comprising about 2000 limestone islands and islets (“karsts”) rising from the sea, in a variety of sizes and shapes:

It was a slick operation when we arrived at the dock:

I found out afterwards that, in peak season, ten thousand tourists a day visit Ha Long Bay. And they know what you’ve booked. Well, they know what your travel agency has booked for you, which may not be what you think you’ve booked. But I trusted Lily, and it came good – this was to be my home for the next two nights:

My room had a jacuzzi bath. I have arrived 🙂

The views were incredible. Pictures, once again, just don’t seem to do it justice, but there are a couple that capture something of what it was like to be there:

It’s not just the karsts themselves (which are spectacular), but the sheer volume of them, too. The more expensive boats actually go to Bai Tu Long Bay. Cheaper boats don’t have a licence for the area, so it’s less touristy. That’s how “you get what you pay for”.

Lily had explained that there were two or three “areas” of activites (a fishing village, caves, pearl farms) and that which boat you were on dictated which area you would see – and the more you paid, the less touristy it would be. That was indeed the case, and we were rowed round the old fishing village on a bamboo boat, which allowed us to get really close to the rocks:

When the bay became a World Heritage Site, the fishermen were moved out. Despite questioning, it was difficult to get to the bottom why this was. The official reason was that providing education and healthcare to the community was easier if they were on the mainland. I think the powers-that-be were also worried about damage to the bay (e.g. water pollution) and wanted to protect the site (which did, of course, yield financial as well as environmental benefits). I understand work is underway to better protect the area – boats for ten thousand tourists generate a lot of water pollution (and rubbish).

Understandably, the fisherpeople weren’t very happy about being moved out. Some of them stayed. Most of them left. Some of them live on the mainland, but still come here to fish. Except that it’s not that easy to get home, so they live on the boat for a few days. A tough life. All for a few kilos of fish per day.

About 90% moved to Ha Long City, and their houses went with them. Literally. Their houses were deconstructed, moved to the city and put back together again. They’ve left a few, though, which look very pretty:

Unfortunately, nobody could tell me how the karsts were formed. Online explanations contain a lot of complicated words, so I’m going to have to leave that for another day, I’m afraid. But the results are truly amazing.

I’d heard there were eagles in the area. We spied these beauties, but weren’t sure what they were – if anyone knows, please do say:

Just incredible.

An impromptu game of football was going on when we returned, complete with a net to fish it out of the water when it went out:

I love the way they love to play.

Our evening entertainment on the boat was vegetable carving. Don’t laugh, it was actually quite good fun to watch:

But realistically it aint ever going to happen – practising vegetable carving will never get even remotely high enough on my priority list. Ever. And I’ll need to practice given my first attempt at a rose:

Squid fishing seemed to be primarily to keep the tourists amused as there was clearly no chance of anyone catching a squid:

A great day in an incredible place. Can’t wait to see more tomorrow.

9 November 201526 January 2018

Day 56 (Mon 9 Nov): Hanoi (no Tai Chi, sick)

I was promised Tai Chi. I’d got up at 4:30am for Tai Chi. But there was no Tai Chi. At 5am, however, there was a steady stream of individuals walking purposefully round the lake:

Cities in the morning, just as they’re waking up are a favourite of mine. You see more the real place*.

Feeling smug that I’d at least tried, I decided to go back to bed. Woke up feeling rotten. I’ve been on the go for a while now, and I think my body just needed some down time. Plus, I don’t think the ramboutins (oh, by the way, the fruit that I’ve been calling lychees all this time aren’t, in fact, lychees – they’re “ramboutins”) I ate yesterday were at their best. I stayed in bed most of the day. But I wasn’t so ill that I was going to miss the opportunity to play the piano, so later in the afternoon when I felt more like it, I called My (for that is her name) and popped round. She greeted me warmly, took me upstairs to a spare bedroom where there were another two pianos, offered me the seat and left me to it.

It was wonderful. I played and I practised. And I also didn’t to overdo it after eight weeks of joint stagnation and too much thumb-typing. A decent 45 minutes, though and the world was instantly a better place. She looked confused when I offered to pay her something for her troubles, and when she realised what I was saying, would have none of it.

Then back to bed. What I needed, I decided, was a five-star cruise.

* I remember going for an early morning run from a hotel in Geneva. I’d inadvertently booked one in the red light district, but walking home the previous evening the streets showed no evidence. At 6am, however, there were gaggles of prostitutes outside doors – this was their time. And mine, of course 🙂

8 November 201526 January 2018

Day 55 (Sun 8 Nov): Hanoi (war museum, presidential palace, Ho Chi Minh museum)

Today was mostly a case of “Che Guevara’s pants”. The phrase derives from a museum in Cuba that was rather sparse on exhibits. The piece de resistance was the pair of pants that Che Guevara wore when he did something. I forget what. The phrase “Che Guevara’s pants” now refers to attractions that scrape the barrel.

Like, for example, Hanoi’s War Museum. Objects were well-displayed, but were bland, with few English explanations and no context. And they surpassed themselves with a digital display that showed you the exhibits of the room you were actually standing in:

Then they promised a “54-step spiral staircase”… but we weren’t allowed to go up:

The reconstructed aircraft, tanks and vehicles were good, though:

But the reconstructed crashed US fighter jet definitely stole the show:

Subjective reporting abounded (for instance, reports of US bombing only really mentioned the number of civilians killed) and no context or overview was ever given. Most of the museums I’ve gone to in Vietnam have started with detailed information, without giving the background and context. This makes it very difficult to piece things together.

After lots of Che Guevara’s pant-like exhibits, I was getting bored, to be honest. I know history is written by the victorious (and the rich), but the one-sidedness was so apparent, I felt I couldn’t really trust anything I was being told.

Ho Chi Minh’s (HCM) museum, I was hoping, would give me an insight into the man so revered by his country. Uh, no. Again, it was full of propaganda statements with little content, such as:

“The struggle against fascism throughout the world had a great influence on the revolutionary process of the Vietnamese people under Ho Chi Minh’s leadership.”

Finding out they affectionately call him “Uncle Ho” was probably the highlight of my visit. Oh, and seeing his pants:

I felt the museum curators had tried a little too hard to present things innovatively. For instance, this collection of photographs, and I quote ,”are presented here in the form of a human brain was President Ho Chi Minh’s headquarters from where he engineered the Vietnamese revolution in 1941 – 1946.” Er, human brain? Why? Where did that come from? I found it rather scary, to be honest.

Although this model of the tunnels (see Day 42) was effective:

Whilst there was a whole section of photographs of HCM addressing various people, I could find little about the man, his life, his metholodogies or ideologies. This was frustrating as I had some questions. For instance, when separated, HCM ruled South Vietnam from Saigon (I believe), but he was a communist (I think). But I thought the North were the communists trying to take over the South. It’s very complicated, even more so when Vietnamese tour guides are trying to explain it in English. When I get the chance, I’m going to do some proper research to understand what was really going on. I may be some time 😉

Anyway, there were two graphs that were very informative. The first showed Vietnam’s GDP, which was variable; the second showed income per capita:

Why is Vietnam now becoming more properous? Mostly because they’re not at war. And haven’t been for a sustained period of time, allowing them to focus on building the country (quite literally), rather than killing/not getting killed.

Walking back to the main gates, I saw this:

Really? Would people really play outside in the main square? It would seem so – this pavement was regularly punctuated with badminton courts down its entire length:

Then, later, I stumbled across an actual game being played (they were quite good, especially under the conditions):

And further down the road was the football version. I love they way they just like to play:

Oh, and very quickly, the One-Pillar Pagoda. Which is a pagoda built on one pillar (bet you didn’t predict that one):

Then a wander round the presidential palace:

With this really nicely-designed “outbuilding” which was, in fact, the study (and is only practical in a more temperate climate than the UK):

And back via Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum:

To get to the museum that morning, the map showed that I would cross the train tracks. My eyes sought a bridge, or tunnel, but could find neither where I was expecting one to be. Then I saw this:

Of course bridges and tunnels are expensive. Another first-world brain moment in the bag. But it was looking down the tracks that surprised me even more:

Almost like there weren’t there. But then with only a few trains passing through a day, most of the time they weren’t “there”.

Lunch was spent with Nam (which seems to be a popular male name here). I wandered off the tourist track to find a local cafe and he invited me to join him:

He seemed to epitomise the younger generation. Having studied data communciations at university, he wanted to get involved with environmental work so freelances and volunteers with charities helping to educate the population at large. Today he was in Hanoi (he lives in Da Nang) for an event which aimed to explain to Vietnamese why using elephant tusks for medicine is both misguided and wrong. In a highly superstitious culture, based on knowledge handed down through the generations, this poses challenges not encountered (or at least, less so) in the western world. He also wanted to get a Masters Degree, but outside Vietnam. Why outside? Because the education system here is broken – it’s so competitive (that’ll explain the English students so keen to speak to tourists) and pressured, and suicides are relatively common. He’s hoping to get a scholarship to study abroad. Finland was his first choice. Differences in the cost of living seemed prohibitive to me, but he planned to work alongside his study and was keen to understand how English universities limit paid work (answer: it varies, but he’ll need to be realistic). He’ll also be studying in English. This made my mind boggle, too as it does every time I see the myriad Chinese students at UCL trying to not only take on sometimes complex information, but doing so in their second language. Plans for an online business were also on the agenda. He seemed genuine, intelligent, ambitious, calm, polite and quietly determined.

Today’s random stuff now ensues.

Women (for they are the ones that do all the work; once married, the men seem to kick back and let them get on with running the show) with wares were everywhere. And it looked like they were carrying some serious weight on their shoulders (both literally and metaphorically):

And size:

The guard at HCM’s mausoleum was very insistent on where I could and couldn’t walk. Stepping over the line (literally) perturbed him greatly. I couldn’t decide whether to admire him or be scared by the whole mental attitude.

Selfies. I just don’t get them. I actively avoid having my photo taken. The few I’ve got from my trip are mostly to prove that I was actually here and didn’t travel round SE Asia via Google images. But they’re popular, especially with the Chinese. In an attempt to divert attention from me, I’ve invented the “someone-elsie” – taking photos of other people taking selfies. Much more comfortable with that:

A hula-hoop made of beads. First one like this I’ve seen:

Other street scenes from today:

Wasn’t sure what this stall was selling. It was something for children, maybe some kind of seat?

Hoan Kiem Lake is a point of focus within the city:

Outdoor gyms are next to icecream stalls, strings of light bulbs illuminate the path full of people taking in the evening air, enjoying the vibe and the view:

And as I walked to my hotel, I noticed this:

Someone having a piano lesson. On a piano. Can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before as I’d walked past here at least six times already – I must have been really tired. I waited until the lesson had finished, poked my nose through the door and asked whether it would be possible to have a quick play. Just a few minutes. I hadn’t played for a while, and I was missing it. She invited me in and waited patiently whilst I forgot how to play Beethoven’s Pathetique (mvt II)… and promptly invited me to come back anytime tomorrow. Can’t wait 🙂

7 November 201526 January 2018

Day 54 (Sat 7 Nov): Hanoi (Planning)

Trust your instincts – they’ll rarely let you down. Tripadvisor reviews enthused about the hospitality of the owner, but I felt nervous. The way she’d jabbed towards each item saying “new, new, new” and, when I looked properly after dinner, nothing in the room was new. Far from it. And the water damage she’d pointed out had obviously been there quite some time. And the balcony doors didn’t shut. And the door to the room opened outwards, so I couldn’t put my door wedge under it. And the bathroom was outside said door. And there were exposed electrics in the wetroom (not the first time). So I checked out, and instantly felt better.

But I couldn’t book another hotel until I knew when I was going to Ha Long Bay and Sapa (my next two destinations, both from Hanoi but in opposite directions). I’d enquired at an travel agent the evening before. Previously there have been maybe three tour operators – you might buy your ticket from different places at difference prices, but you all end up on one of three buses. However, 200 different boats operate in Ha Long Bay. And you get what you pay for. Except sometimes you don’t. Scams are rife – tourists being sold one cruise (and paying for it) but ending up on another boat. General consensus was to avoid the budget options which involved cramped sleeping on wooden floors. I decided to give myself the day to plan the rest of my time in Vietnam. It didn’t take me long to discover that I’d heard right – one agent even offered me a cruise at a price that I discovered was less than he would have had to pay. Goodness knows where I would have ended up. Operators run different quality boats on different routes with different activities. I worked out what I wanted (to see as much of the place as possible and enjoy it) and returned to the one person who had told me the truth (did the others think I’d not work out they were lying? And there was one who just kept telling me how beautiful I was and that he’d do a special deal. I made a swift exit). And I told her that’s why I’d gone back: I understand that things cost money and I can’t expect to pay bottom-dollar and get a top-dollar cruise. I just wanted the truth. Unfortunately, the truth was that the cruise I preferred was seriously out of my budget. Over double my budget, in fact. But I knew that, scams aside, the more I paid, the better experience I’d get. My frustration recently has been the difficulty getting off the tourist trail. The more I paid, the quieter it would be (200 boats in Ha Long Bay wasn’t going to be relaxing), and the more I’d see.

“In five years’ time, what would I have wanted to have chosen?” is a question I often ask myself. It helps me transcend the immediate concerns and think longer-term. I knew that I’d remember how good/awful it was and not the extra £100. So I bit the bullet, signed on the line for a three-star trip, handed over the cash and went to the loo. “Stop, stop” was what greeted my return. Turns out they couldn’t book me on the boat on that day (I forget why). Another brochure promptly appeared in front of me. Oh goodness, do I have to start all over again? “Similar route” was the explanation. So why wasn’t it an option before? Because it is four-star. OK, how much? “We do at same price for you”. Suspicious. “I give up my commission.” Oh my, what service. You’re getting a good TripAdvisor review (and I told her that). She phoned the tour company. Problem – that boat was full, too. Their mistake. But they also own a five-star cruise ship… so I was promptly offered another upgrade. Two upgrades in less than 2 minutes. So, I’m paying three-star price for five-star service. And I trusted her – she’d book me on what she says she’ll book me on. Result 🙂

I was going to say that I’d be out of my league. But I can do five-star when I choose to, it’s just that I prefer the earthy reality of two-star. But, in this case, more stars mean a better experience. Really, really looking forward to it 🙂

And then I booked a really nice hotel online – at the same price as the one I’d just left. Bingo 🙂

No interesting photos on a planning day, so here’s what I had for dinner – it tasted as good as it looked: