“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away
from the safe harbour Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream.
Discover.” – Mark Twain
Hey, guys! Long time, no blog? Apologies, it’s been a whirlwind past few
weeks. The beginning of the end of our (South East Asia) travels is upon us,
and today I'm going to recall our time in Vietnam. It’s easy to draw
comparisons with Thailand – the vastness of the country (it takes AGES to get
anywhere. I reckon I've spent nearly a full week out of the six we spent here
in transit), the food, the people… Whilst I still haven’t made up my mind,
there’s one thing that I do know. There’s something here for everyone. There’s
the mountains of Sapa for those who are climbing inclined (see what I did
there?!), big, bustling cities like Hanoi and Saigon for the culture vultures
and last, but not least, those all-important beaches in Nha Trang and Mui Ne
for sun worshippers like moi. Anyone who says they didn't like Vietnam clearly
spent too much (or too little) time in one place – once you've seen a few of
the cities you get a general vibe as to what’s more your ‘thing’; mine was a no
brainer from the start – anything involving the art of sunbathing will always
be a winner in my book!
I'm not going to sit here and give a full blow-by-blow account of each city
we visited (if you’re that way inclined, invest in a guidebook. Much more
informative than I’ll ever be). No, I'm just going to reflect on some of the
highlights and see where it takes me. Right, let’s start with this.
Stereotypes. We all know what one is and probably judge others due to them. We
all do it. The media and society in general are to blame. Anyway, the reason I
bring it up is that, whilst participating in some obligatory culture stuff on
another ‘city’ tour; this time, in the capital Saigon (also known as Ho Chi
Minh. Confusing, I know. Anyone else think that they were two separate places?
No, just me then…) we got talking to two British girls. One was from Nottingham
(I was slightly perplexed, disappointed even, that she did know where ‘Ocean’
was and did not share in my happy memories of drinking apple VKs whilst dancing
to the Bay-watch theme tune) and the other, from London. A ‘posh’ Southerner.
Who was quick to comment that, when she learned we were from Liverpool, she
didn't think that ‘people from Liverpool travelled’. Excuse me? What are we,
aliens? Or too busy robbing hub-caps and wandering in the streets in our
Lacoste trackies and Rockports? Get a grip, love. How can someone make such a
flippant comment in this day and age?
Her comment got me thinking: what is a ‘typical’ traveller? Anyone who has
read my previous blogs will remember my categories of what ‘type’ of traveller
you are, but not once did I factor in where anyone was from. Or age, for that
matter. I guess the ‘stereotypical’ answer to that would be the 18-23 group,
either before or after university. It got me thinking, are me and the Mac too
old for travelling? With a combined age of over FIFTY (good God), are we ‘past’
it? Well, after becoming buds with a British couple poolside in Mui Ne, I can
tell you we’re definitely not. And I left there feeling completely inspired and
energised. Mui Ne itself is a beautiful resort in the South of Vietnam but,
unfortunately, is beginning to lose its authentic charm due to the huge Russian
influence. Vietnam is to Russia what Spain is to us Brits so the locals are
catering more and more to them with all shops having Russian sign-age and most
restaurants handing out Russian menus. Now, I personally don’t know anyone
Russian so I don’t mean to offend when I say this. They’re very, well, abrupt in their way of communicating.
Almost aggressive. ANYWAY, back to our British buds. Amongst the crowds of
Russians we got chatting to two Brits by the pool. They’d been travelling for
almost a year and, by the sounds of it, had had a fantastic time. And they were
both in their forties. They’d decided to quit their jobs and see the world.
They weren't weird, hippies, or ‘strange’ in any way. Just a ‘normal’ couple
wanting to see the world while they could. After meeting them, I reviewed my
thoughts on the ‘stereotypical’ traveller. You’re never too bloody old. If you
want to see the world, go out and see it. What’s holding you back is YOU (there’s
an inspiring travel quote for you!)
Right, less philosophical crap and more on Vietnam! I have to say, the
Vietnamese are a noisy lot. Just in general, whether they’re on their phone,
walking down the street… An hour plane journey from Hanoi to Nha Trang
literally felt like an eternity. There were children EVERYWHERE. Parents either
had no control of their kids running wild in the aisles or didn't care that
their brats were jumping up and down in their seat whilst touching the overhead
TVs and throwing sweets all at the same time. No, they were more interested in
listening to their music or chatting to their neighbour. Both in raised
decibels; Vietnam obviously doesn't sell headphones. This was also apparent on
the many night buses we endured whilst here. They love to listen to music as a
bedside accompaniment, as I do. Just they do it out loud. I spent many a
sleepless night listening to (or trying to block out, rather) the dulcet tones
of Vietnamese singers murdering 90’s classics. Bless them; maybe they've
foregone headphones to purchase their bus tickets? Nope, wrong again. Most
Vietnamese tend to prefer the aisle. No, not the aisle seat, the ACTUAL aisle. Makeshift
mattresses are laid out and they literally sprawl out for the journey. Not
ideal on an eighteen hour bus and you need the toilet. Trying to step over them
in the dark to navigate to the back of the bus is impossible. The worlds’
trickiest assault course.
As expected, Vietnam has lost a lot of its authenticity due to the masses
of tourists. We wanted to experience some ‘real’ Vietnam, hence our visit to
Ninh Binh. It’s a small town two hours south of Hanoi and it’s virtually
untouched by tourists. So much so that there are no actual restaurants and to
this day I’m thankful that our guest house did food. Nat + no food equals hell!
We thought we’d take advantage of being among the few tourists and visit the
local sights. ‘Tam Coc’ is a selection of beautiful caves set against a
backdrop of limestone mountains (very picturesque) and a tranquil boat ride
around the caves seemed like a great way to kick-start the day. Ha. The lady
rowing our boat clearly fancied a leg workout rather than her arms, as she
preferred to row and steer the boat with her feet. She must've had legs of
steel, to ferry two Westerners around; she was only tiny! Feeling bad, I
offered to help, and was immediately given an oar. Rowing is hard work, that’s
all I have to say. So, the serene boat ride I’d envisaged turned into a workout
with me concentrating on the rowing rather than the scenery. The fitness fun
continued as we approached ‘Mua Cave’; just a mere 470 steps to the top of this
mountain that boasts spectacular panoramic views. Have you ever counted to 470?
It’s long and tedious, believe me. And to top it all off, the view wasn't even
that great as it was masked by clouds and fog!
With the travels coming to an end, I thought it best to get myself sorted.
I mean, I've adopted the carefree attitude of a seasoned traveller the past few
months, but I can hardly rock up to an interview in Sydney with bushy eyebrows,
horrific hair and crap clothes now can I? The Scouse in me point blank refuses.
So, Hanoi was my refuge, if you like, to get back to some form of normality. A
quick and cheap eyebrow wax gave me two separate ones again and I threw out the
Harem pants and tattered Havaianas and replaced them with good old H&M
basics. Reluctantly, it was time for a trim, too. I'm VERY particular about my
tresses; my hair is my ‘thing’, you see, and at home I let no one bar a few
select individuals cut it. So, you can imagine my hesitation letting people who
can’t even speak English loose on it. The lad in Tony & Guy was very sweet,
bless him, but I was paranoid he’d cut too much off so made him show me the
amount he was cutting off each time. And I have a lot of hair. He did a great
job, though, and even curly blow dried it for good measure at the end. I
sauntered out of there feeling very Carrie Bradshaw-esque. After five minutes
in the heat, though, it was more of a birds’ nest. Bloody humidity…
And that’s it, my friends. Vietnam in a nutshell. Stay tuned for a final
‘farewell’ post rounding up the last eight months… It’ll be emotional.
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