Probably the most noticeable difference between China and Vietnam, is the genuine and infectious happiness of the people.
The Vietnamese language is light, soft and high pitched - so they don't sound like they're stressfully screaming at each other all the time. When the local men speak to you, it feels as though they ought to be dancing around you on tiptoes like a tiny pixie, with wide smiles that say, "I don't understand you, but this day is glorious, I love everything and let's be friends. It'll all be ...alright." Instantly adorable. But perhaps why we've witnessed so many of the heterosexual Vietnamese women seeking Western men for partners.
Unlike the Chinese who are adverse to physical contact, (and unless they're tying to sell you something, because most of the time that doesn't count), Vietnamese people want to touch you - men, women, all generations - they want to put their hand on your shoulder, pat you on the back, even give you a high five. They just reach out to you with gentle, peaceful eyes and make you feel that in this different place, far from home, you are cared for by strangers. Natural hippies. (Not those "wannabe hippies" you get abusing the definition world-wide, particularly in the US and England. Those "I must tell the world I'm a hippie longing for the retro, psychedelic past, because the present is simply not hippie enough", or those "hippiest of hippies who are definitely hippies because they live in their hippie-hole with only other hippies doing only hippie things." - No. I'm talking about the accidental hippies, who are simply born non judgmental, laid-back and openly accept everyone whatever their background and whatever their plan. They live in the present, unknowingly embracing the now with little analysis and automatic calm. They're always welcoming, curious and full of love. I wish I was one. I'm not. (Firstly because I'm ranting at unnecessary lengths about fake hippies and secondly because I disect my thoughts on everything.) But every day of travel broadens my perspective, puts me in the moment, and teaches me something new about life... And I like that.)
Vietnam is "officially" much poorer than China. Their economy continues to struggle significantly, despite amazing growth in recent years. But this financial set-back is never considered an excuse to be disgustingly filthy. It's just a bit messy and unfinished here. Akin to the organised chaos of a teenagers bedroom - but much less smelly. Maybe it's the lack of pollution here (they all ride scooters or bicycles after all) or the absence of unsavoury cooking oils and unhygienic habits, or the comparatively smaller population - but something, maybe everything, makes Vietnam a fresher, healthier and more comfortable country to inquisitively explore than it's scary, intimidating giant-of-a-neighbour to the north.
We flew to Hanoi with Vietnamese airlines, on the nicest plane we've ever taken. It was less than a two hour flight from Guangzhou, but all aboard were served large sandwiches with salads, juice, tea or coffee and a slice of chocolate cheese cake. Hearts won over. It was spacious too, and the tailored, oriental uniforms of the air hosts and hostesses were elaborate but perfect.
We had applied for our tourist visa online, to be collected at the airport in exchange of our already received "approval letter" which, we learnt a little too late, details not only our names, dates of birth, passport numbers and other info, but also those of about 20 others from around the world - all of whom are recipients to the same printable letter sent via email - something which would probably be considered quite a serious breach of privacy where we're from.
The wait time at the border for this visa exceeded one hour, as almost 50% of passengers were backpacking tourists like us, awaiting the same yellow sticker allowing them entry. And, like a lot of places in Asia (we imagine), staff (even those in important border control jobs) are extremely relaxed and slow - if they want to eat, call a friend, smoke a cigarette, snooze or play a quick game of Candy Crush - all of that takes priority over "working". (Unless of course "working" means taking 10 minutes to eagerly scam a foreigner into outrageously overpaying for one item in their make-shift shop or illegal taxi, so they don't have to "work" for the rest of the day. An admirably lazy approach that's only really annoying when said vendors tell you, "I work so hard every day... Very hard, all the time." But, of course, the reality unknown to them, is that sadly they would not last five minutes working anywhere in a busy, competitive, workaholic city such as Calgary in Canada... Not even in a kitchen of a suburban Tim Hortons at 2am on a Wednesday. (I just about lasted two years in Calgary. I'm not for one second claiming to be in any way as hard-working as those who impressively continue to earn a living for decades on end, only to reward themselves eventually with a retirement they'll be lucky to reach.) ...I need to close the first parenthesis here. This is the only way I could think to do it.)
Despite the lengthy delay at Hanoi's cute little airport, our pre-arranged driver (provided by the owner of Especen Hotel, which we booked on Airbnb) was still waiting for us, holding up a board with my name on. The early evening drive into the old city took about 40 minutes, and it was so exciting! There must be more bars along the main road into town than can be found in all of Newcastle. And each one advertises karaoke in flashing neon lights between dangly home-made lanterns and patriotic flags.
Downtown Hanoi is buzzing with gleeful, energetic life. There's evidence of French influence in the tall, narrow, once pastel-coloured architecture. Low hanging clusters of cables loom ominously overhead on every corner, lining upper floor window ledges and unsafe-looking wooden balconies along every street. Corrugated iron awnings shield chatty groups of dining locals from the constant wet dollops that drip from noisy air conditioning units above. Seated at low plastic tables on toddler-height plastic chairs, in great numbers they spill over into the street, making the sidewalks impassable (but nevertheless attempted) by pedestrians and motorbikes alike.
Everyone's drinking local fresh beer in pint-size glass mugs for the equivalent of 30p or less. In open fronted bars, rows of Vietnamese in Manchester United shirts watch the English Premier League games on a single HDTV - the bars only decoration, and wonkily positioned. Many shops proudly declare "fixed price only" - a refreshing lure for tourists who grow tired of the endless back and forth of bartering. There's quality, unique, locally-made, bargain clothing, the latest electronics, household items, artsy souvenirs and every exotic fruit in existence.
Arriving at night threw us straight in at the deep end of this vibrant, atmospheric old world. A feast for all the senses. There are few cars in Hanoi; most people get about on two wheels. A lot of the streets are narrow alleys, busy with street-food chefs stirring steamy soups as they crouch on the ground, self-taught mechanics sprucing up rusty, unroadworthy motorbikes and blinging-up bicycle spokes by spray painting them gold.
There's a chain of bars called Geko in Hanoi - about six of them squeezed in around the city. They sell large bottles of Tiger beer for 16,000VND. That's about 84 Canadian cents or 46 English pennies. To avoid having millions of dong on us at any one time, we'd never carry more than 500,000 (about $25) and that would last both of us at least two or three days. It's a city with so much choice, it's possible to find whatever you want at whatever price you're willing to pay.
A girl called Hang, whose name means "moon", was working in one of the Geko bars. She nattered with us non-stop for more than 40 minutes, practising her already excellent English. She told us English lessons had cost her five million dong and she'd learnt nothing - so she quit the classes and began waitressing and bar work, where she converses with the tourists and picks up dozens of new words every day - and she's getting paid as she learns. She told us most Vietnamese people know some English. Hollywood movies and western music are popular in Hanoi. She's eager to travel and wants to visit London and Rome, but Australia first because it's closest and her most realistic of destinations.
She said she doesn't really like Vietnam, which was some kind of ironic for us to hear after just two days in a place we were already falling in love with, and because not one person in China dissed anything inside their own periphery. Many Chinese to whom we posed the same questions about their hopes and dreams would only emphasize how fantastic they thought China was and would list cities and vacationing hot-spots inside their own country that they want to visit, displaying no desire to venture beyond the borders within which they reside. Of course many of them do travel. We all see them, all over the planet, but we never found those wandering adventurers when we were there (perhaps those who leave simply don't come back!) - another reason I believe their population must well exceed 1.6 billion - but before I digress heavily into further controversial politics, I must remind myself to remind you that this blog is about Vietnam, not China. Let's move on...
Especen Hotel was "sort-of" a home-stay. So much accommodation in Vietnam is this way. Families invest in a house large enough to offer five or six rooms to tourists. Often they live there too. Uncles and aunties, grandparents, cousins and long-time friendly neighbours take on all the jobs from reception duties to cooking and cleaning, and sometimes invite you for tea.
Especen was located in the heart of the action, and just a two minute walk to St. Joseph's cathedral, the oldest church in Hanoi dating back to 1886. A beautiful, granite, Neo Gothic building reminiscent of western Europe, lost and weathered in a distinctly Asian environment. Nestled within a growing fork in the road and encircled by small trees and neatly cut grass, the immediate exterior is empty and enticing. Just meters from the iron gates the city is in constant, blurred and rowdy motion. And on Sundays the two collide as prayer hymns are broadcast for evening mass to thousands of Catholics who crowd closely around the exterior like British festival goers.
We took a bus to Halong City. It left at 8am and took four hours. We stayed at the Light Hotel, at the top of a windy hill. Another new-build, family business. The silent, white-haired "grandmother" gifted mangos and dragon fruits to us daily. It was just $15 a night for a large, modern, en-suite double room over looking the bay. We had air con, wifi and cable TV. Breakfast was served in the upper ground floor cafe for just $1 each. It was the cleanest hotel we've stayed in on our entire trip thus far, since leaving Calgary in March.
We'd read terrible reviews of the Light Hotel on Trip Advisor which contradicted the majority of positive feedback. Negative comments stated things like, "So many bugs here. Open the window and insects will attack you." In hindsight, they're obviously not genuine, but why would someone write that? One of the family daughters (a girl about our age who had children of her own) told us how tour operators used to congregate in the hotel lobby, aggressively pestering guests, and overcharging them for Halong Bay boat tickets. She and her family ejected the naughty intruders with the help of the local authorities and selected just one legitimate travel agent who is only allowed to provide information to the guests who ask for it. He sits quietly at his little desk opposite the reception and smiles politely. Fabulous forward-thinking by the hotel, as this is what makes Westerners (and surely anybody?) feel most comfortable - when they have the control to request a service they want to pay for, rather than having it forced upon them. ...We booked our Halong Bay boat tour with the smiley man...
But this is the story behind the bad reviews. The angry agents who'd been booted out and denied the chance to make money from the hotels customers, had jumped onto Trip Advisor to ridiculously criticize this new business. "The staff very rude and everything very dirty. None of the things are working, like the TV or toilet. Smelly place. Please do not stay here." We contacted Trip Advisor and had the harmful, but slightly hilarious, comments removed.
Most people take an organised return tour from Hanoi to Halong Bay. The town of Halong City at the bay's gateway is small, tranquil and rarely frequented by tourists. Nonetheless, local entrepreneurs have prepared for the eventuality this will imminently change. Endless hotels, bars and restaurants, sit in anticipation of holiday makers to come. They're even extending the man-made beach along the waterfront. It's already long, sandy and dotted with empty sun beds and lonely parasols, placed in readiness by the great numbers of seaside seafood-eateries, expecting custom on mass any moment now...
It's a quaint, pretty town where the occasional scooter humms up the main road between the brightly coloured rows of thin, terraced structures reaching five or six stories up towards the regularly clear blue sky. We stayed there for four days.
Our six hours out on Halong Bay were sensational, if a little scorching and sweaty. Hundreds of similar junk boats line up side by side in the harbour. Most of them look tired, and unkept - but authentic. Our boat listed dramatically to its port side the entire time, but no one seemed concerned - just wobbly. The captain steered casually with his bare feet (as in, his toes were gripping the wheel) whilst he puffed on a questionable roll-up.
We chugged painfully slowly through the calm green sea, waiting for another boat to deliver two Malaysian girls who had boarded with the wrong agent. Despite all tour itineraries and most boats being identical - you have to get on the right one!
On deck we befriended an Australian girl, Tash, perhaps a bit younger than us, travelling alone after being made redundant from the oil and gas company she was working for in Cairns. From head to toe her skin was covered. She even wore a shawl over her long sleeved top, and an enormous floppy hat which sat directly on top of her big sunglasses. It was 32 degrees and the humidity level was high. She said she had just journeyed up from Nha Trang and I suspect maybe she was badly sunburnt.
Many Vietnamese cover themselves - they even wear socks. They hate the rays of the sun and you'll never see a local bathing in it. The last thing they want is to tan. They don't want to be browner, they want to be whiter. And just as we have tanning lotions, an array of unnatural mahogany and orange spray-on options, and dark foundations, here the pharmacies sell skin whiteners - dozens of variations in any given shop.
We also chatted with Fabien and Cyril, a French couple who first introduced themselves as Victor and Victoria - simply to assert who was bitch and who was butch... They wore matching branded vests in different colours and tiny tight shorts that left little to the imagination. Both tall, skinny, and balding, in their early 30s. They'd taken three weeks off work to visit Vietnam, having explored other parts of SE Asia together in years gone by. They had little tolerance for the guides and boatmen, and before we sat with them they complained loudly to one another about everything, thinking no one could understand their French.
Completing our lunch table that day was a sweet 20-something Thai guy, who keenly took it upon himself to serve up our rice, hand out drinks and initiate the clinking of cans to say "cheers" in multiple languages.
Our first stop was Sung Sot Cave. Having seen Silver Cave in China, this one was comparatively tiny and much less impressive, but still undeniably magical. I wondered if the dragons who once (undoubtedly) lived in Sung Sot would have known about the dragons who once inhabited the karst mountains of Yangshuo....?
The popular UNESCO world heritage site of Halong Bay is a little like the setting of a surreal dream, a real life evocative Studio Ghibli experience. Towering authoritatively out of the deep, increasingly turquoise waters, are sturdy, proud, monolithic rocks blanketed with tropical greenery and lush vegetation. Covering an area of roughly 1,500 square kilometres there are more than 1,600 limestone islets. Surely the very best place to be a bird. Apparently it's taken five million years for these formations to manifest as they are today. That's urr... That's quite a long time.
We took a small rowing boat through the natural archways and into mysterious caves where stalactites hang low over the flat sea, and shimmering reflections bounce off the interior of the smooth marine notches, occasionally blinding you momentarily as you risk drifting into a hypnotic state.
A small floating village is set up amongst the pillars at least 90 minutes from the nearest town by motor boat. A tight-knit community of no more than 40 people live there permanently. Giggling children chase each other up and down the rotting jetties. Friends come together and share lunch under the shade of a torn canvas. They're all playful, chatty and appear to have few worries as they take life easy in their own breathtakingly serene surroundings.
Ti-Top island is a tiny, almost symmetrical, karst mountain framed by white sands gently sloping into thin transparent waves, amongst the most scenic of panoramas in Halong Bay. It's possible to climb to the pagoda on the peak. Just 400 steep, uneven steps, twisting through dense jungle, lead you to a 360 degree opening from where you can experience one of the most memorable views of a lifetime.
Apart from the abundance of terrifyingly large bees, this point of the planet is utterly heavenly. A special part of the earth where it's most magnificent elements reside in simultaneous harmony, in a unique display that illustrates power of both land and sea - where neither is winning, because neither is competing.