I had originally planned to only stay in Vietnam for a week or so, travelling only in northern Vietnam before taking the infamous 24-hour ‘Bus From Hell’ from Hanoi to Luang Prabang in Laos to meet my friend Ankie. I didn’t mind not seeing Ho Chi Minh city as I’d had a bad first impression while transiting through a few years earlier, though it was unfortunate I wouldn’t be seeing my childhood friend Shawn Scott and Mike’s brother Chris.
However, Mike and Tinh both waxed lyrical about how fun Saigon was, and how different it was to Hanoi and the rest of Vietnam. My intrigue gave way to excitement as they told me they would be in Saigon two weekends hence, and that I should meet them there so we could all party it up. Mike added a cherry on top by graciously inviting me to stay at his condo at the Hyatt Regency in Danang for a few days, and it became an offer I couldn’t refuse.
This meant that I was in no rush to leave Hanoi, and so I stayed a few extra days to spend more quality time with the nephews Didi and Chritchy. After ten solid days of family life with the Piros in Hanoi, I embarked on the first solo leg of my journey. Weeks later it now seems silly to me, but at the time I was slightly nervous at finally travelling on my own. I’d certainly done it before; I suppose my time with the Piros was too comfortable.
Halong Bay
The first stop along the way was the famed Halong Bay. I had booked a package tour out of Hanoi, so it was only a matter of following the programme. After a 4-hour bus ride, we were transferred to a small ferry taxi that took us to our boat, Elizabeth Sails. We had lunch as the boat moved from Halong City out into the bay, and I made friendly with the people on my table: an Irishman, a group of three girls from the UK, and a Bavarian German by the name of Amadeus Jager (as in Mozart Meister).
Our first stop was at a ‘secret cave’, which is a ridiculous name since every tourist taken to Halong goes to see it. I’d seen some pretty incredible stalactite / stalagmite caves before, so I wasn’t overly awed, but our tour guide Ha kept it interesting by pointing out formations that looked like Romeo and Juliet, breasts and phalluses.
Next we went kayaking around one of the limestone rock outcroppings for a closer look. There were small huts that formed water villages close to the island, reminiscent of the floating fishing villages in Hong Kong. I was paired with Amadeus, neither of us having ever kayaked before. However it soon proved an easy enough adjustment, and the surrounding water and scenery were so peaceful that we would sometimes stop paddling just to seep in the moment and take it all in. On one such occasion, we veered too close to the rock and despite our frantic efforts, actually hit the island. At least our other companions got a good laugh out of it.
The evening’s activities consisted of karaoke and cuttlefishing. The local Vietnamese tourists naturally flocked to the karaoke machine, and so I went out back to try some fishing. We ended up catching two small cuttlefish, but most of the time was spent guzzling beers and bantering. An old lady in a small motorboat served as a mobile 7-Eleven, and approached us selling her wares of beer and snacks. I found it rather amusing that the only English word she spoke was ‘vodka’.
After cuttlefishing got old, we went up to the upper deck of the boat for better seats to chat. It quickly became apparent that ours was the most civil (read: boring) boat in the vicinity. On one side was a party boat with club music blaring and echoing off the rocks; on the other side there were drunken Caucasians jumping off their boat naked. However, none of us particularly minded our comparative idleness, and after some more conversation we turned in.
I’m normally not a big fan of boats, as I get seasick rather easily. Numerous junk trips in Hong Kong and being out with Jose on his new boat have conditioned me somewhat, but my sea legs are still mediocre at best. That night in Halong Bay however was one of the most peaceful sleeps I’ve ever had, as there were absolutely no current or waves at all. I might as well have been sleeping on dry land, except for the water and massive rock islands outside my window.
The next day we stopped at the largest island in Halong Bay, Cat Ba, as some of the passengers disembarked to spend another day and night there. In return, some new travelers came onto the boat from the island to return to the mainland. I got to chatting with some of the newcomers, a pair of American girls from Arizona. They had been traveling for some time, and shared a traveling tips and horror stories, including the ‘Bus From Hell’ that they took from Luang Prabang to Hanoi. The 24-hour bus ended up being 31 hours, and they had finished all their snacks within the first 12. On top of that, the already full bus stopped to allow more local Lao passengers aboard, who sat / slept in the aisles of the bus with feet in people’s faces. It was a good thing that my altered itinerary allowed me to avoid that debacle entirely.
On the way back from Halong Bay to Hanoi (mandatory since the latter is a hub), I almost took the wrong backpack when I switched buses. The backpack looked exactly like mine, and if the owner hadn’t chased after me I’d be carrying some random bag around Asia! Too close a call for comfort, really.
Danang
I opted to take the train to Danang instead of the plane as most people would, for cost efficiency. Instead of a one-hour flight it would be a 15-hour sleeper train, and given my prior experiences on sleeper trains in China I was not particularly enthused.
As I looked for my place on the train, I found myself in a four-bed cabin, with my lower bunk bed across from that of an enormous and balding middle-aged French man. The other two occupants were French-speaking Vietnamese—the tour guides for a group of 36 French people (incidentally all middle-aged and overweight) who occupied the entire carriage.
It was immediately obvious that I could communicate much more in my broken French than I could in English. As more and more French people passed our cabin and took a curiosity in me, I was able to respond to the same generic questions with slightly more polish.
As soon as the train set off, the carriage turned into a party as everyone broke out the Hanoi vodka and proceeded to get loudly drunk. Since they were all unfailingly hospitable, I ended up partaking in the merriment, though I couldn’t sing any of the French refrains that they broke into. It was a jolly good time, though unfortunately I didn’t drink enough vodka to sleep well amidst the snoring orchestra conducted by the other three passengers in my cabin.
The next day was a beautiful one, and at the ancient city of Hue the entire French contingent made their exodus. I was left alone for three hours from Hue to Danang to witness the most amazing landscape I’ve ever seen from a train: lush mountains on one side, virgin beaches and the East Vietnam Sea on the other.
I arrived in Danang shortly after noon, and made my way to the Hyatt Regency. November is low season in Danang as the weather is usually cloudy and miserable, but I was extremely fortunate to experience the opposite. I had escaped Hanoi just as it started to get cold and rainy only to arrive in a bright and sunny Danang. However, given that it was low season, the Hyatt was a ghost town. Walking around the massive grounds, I had the peculiar feeling that I was the only guest in the entire complex, the hotel staff being the only other signs of life.
The Piro condo was a gorgeous, fully furnished and equipped two-bedroom, with a breathtaking view of the hotel premises, the beach and the waters beyond. With my dirty backpack and disheveled clothes, I almost felt like I didn’t belong in such opulence. But that humility soon passed, as I resolved to live it up and try (in vain) to use as much of the condo as possible.
On Shawn’s advice, I went to dinner at The Waterfront restaurant, where he had been general manager before he moved to Saigon. I had a pleasant dinner before joining the owners Erik and Andrew for a few drinks. Mike had arranged for one of his ‘underlings’—the notorious German-Ethiopian Timo Schmidt—to sort me out and take me around in Danang, so I chatted with the Waterfront folks until he showed up, along with a Russian-born Vietnamese female companion named Victoria and a Swiss buddy named Alex.
After some debate, we went to a Texas-style saloon called 17, where a Filipino band was playing live music. It wasn’t an altogether bad vibe, though Victoria was clearly losing consciousness. So Timo shouldered her purse and took her home. Coincidentally, Alex also owned a condo at the Hyatt, so we headed back and called it a night.
Sunrise, sunset, moonrise
I had set my alarm for 6:00am to catch the sunrise and make the most of the eastward-facing room. I woke up, snapped a picture and then passed out again.
When I actually got out of bed, I took the hotel shuttle bus to Hoi An, a huge tourist attraction. Without sounding like a Wikitravel post, this gorgeous little town 20 minutes from Danang was a scenic place that seems built for photography. A river runs through it, and the buildings there invoke an earlier time period, having survived the war. I spent the day walking and riding around the scenic area, eating the famous noodles there and chilling by the riverside, taking in the warm rays and watching the boats go by. The setting is reminiscent of a lazy Latin American small town, and reminded me a lot of Varadero, Cuba. I could’ve easily spent another few days lounging around doing nothing, but one day was all I was afforded. I did however catch the sunset by the Hoi An river and it was probably the first time in my life I saw both sunrise and sunset on the same day.
Timo came by the condo to hang out a bit that evening, just in time to see the moon come up over the waters of the East Vietnam Sea. Though there was some temptation to visit the new Phuong Dong club (allegedly the most famous club in all of Vietnam) I decided to save my energy for Saigon. A very prudent decision, it turned out.
I instead spent the rest of the evening chilling in the condo and exploring the hotel, feeling a bit like a tropical Jack Nicholson in The Shining (sans the crazy). I also abused the hell out of room service, since I figure I wouldn’t have much opportunity to do so in a 5-star hotel in the foreseeable future.
The next day I took another 15-hour train to Saigon (no one really calls it Ho Chi Minh city in Vietnam, even the train ticket says ‘Saigon). Luckily for me I was able to sleep 13 out of the 15 hours on the train, and was fully rested when I arrived in Saigon at dawn.
Hoi An pictures
