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Published: September 16th 2007
Hanoi Flags
The street on which I stayed in Ha NoiHas it really been five weeks since my last update! Tsk tsk, I am bad. Anyway, on the 3rd of September I headed north after spending Vietnam’s National Day (the 2nd) in Hue where, in case you’ve just joined us, I’ve been living for the past 2 months. This entry, because I am lazy and leaving for Singapore this afternoon, is just my last week here in Vietnam.
Taking the Train to Sapa
The easiest way to get to Sapa is by the night train. This is my first experience with Vietnamese trains having always previously taken the cheaper bus option. Having almost been hit by a train going through the station (which by the way is more a plateau of concrete, trains snaking past in both directions) I reached my compartment. The room, little bigger than a toilet, held six beds and, perhaps for lack of better words than anything else, was rather cosy. We were fortunate enough to be bunked with some very nice Europeans (3 Polish, 1 French, Lisa who was also volunteering and myself). The Polish were crazy, and the Frenchman was, well, French, with stereotypical passions for food, smoking, and sexuality. We bought beer and
Hanoi Alley
Alleyways snake around the crowded city found some music and thus any illusions of sleeping on the night train were swiftly shattered. It was an entertaining night and I’m disappointed not to see them again. We eventually went to sleep after some semi-drunken kerfluffle about how exactly to get onto the top bunk, who will freeze and die first from the aircon, and who will eat what animal when we get to Sapa. I was the first to get up at Lao Cai station, on the border with China in the far north. A tap on the door and a shout of Lao Cai was all that woke me. Consultation of my watch resulted in disbelief that the train had arrived 30 minutes early; something which I imagine is unheard of back home. The sun was just about rising when I had a look up and down the corridor and out the window. Some banging, removal of blankets, French language and cries of ‘Lao Cai!’ just about woke my bunk mates.
Arriving in Sapa
Either my cold (or the drugs I got from a chemist in Hanoi) have helped me pass into a new mental state or I have somehow stepped over into Wonderland. I
Hoam Kiem Lake
In the centre of Hanoi cannot see the White Rabbit and there is (sadly) no tea party but nonetheless something is strange here in Sapa.
We started the day trekking to Catcat village. Our small tour group gathered in the hotel lobby as a mass of dark clothed women eyed us up from the doorway, some of them winding yarn into a ball and others picking out their prey with the traditional Vietnamese complete disregard to subtlety. It’s difficult explaining the town in words. Everything seems quite traditional with the clothes, the housing and the terraced rice fields but there is a set route through the villages in stone and teenagers scurry to hide their mobile phones. I can’t grasp what’s real and what is part of the stage scenery painted for us. Then there was our Hanoi guide, a man whose name escapes me and in truth did very little more than select a suitable foreign wife who happened to be my friend Lisa. Perhaps he is the Cheshire Cat, not only because we could never really get a straight answer from him but also because he seemed to come and go and despite practically declaring his love for Lisa, never said goodbye and
simply vanished. It was walking back to the hotel after an afternoon at the local market that I turned to Lisa and declared my confusion at the entire situation. I was sure the rice fields were real but I wonder even now how many of the ethnic minorities wore the traditional clothing for convenience and how many for the tourists, which of the souvenirs were genuine or whether like most other things, they are made in China. It was walking back up the hill that within minutes a white veil descended over us and visibility dropped to just a couple of metres. It was like walking in a dream (and this bit may be those drugs talking!), like a series of events and people had waltzed across my mind and like any dream, you wonder when you first wake up whether it was actually real. The mountains in Sapa are beautiful but always distant, like the curtain backdrop of a theatre. Terraced rice fields map the landscape in contours and the peaks are capped by rolling mist. The air is cold and damp and the scenery fades out silently like a painting.
On the Road again
Returning to Hanoi
Hanoi City of Colour
From the top of a really posh hotel we crashed. We had to use the emergency exits to get up here, hehe! on the night train sober lacked the deep and peaceful that only Vietnam’s cheapest beer can bring. The 10 hour journey was the start of the very long road to Ba Be lake and national park in the northeast (Sapa was in the northwest). From the train station in Hanoi we took a rather long taxi ride to what seems like the other side of the city to a bus station and from there took a bus to Bac Kan. My limited Vietnamese became invaluable here as no one spoke a word of English. Local buses (i.e. not used by tourists) in Vietnam are cheap and fairly comfortable. They are somewhere between a minibus and a coach but bumpier and with the most exciting variety of curtains. Each bus has a driver and what can only be described as a ‘bus boy’ who, when he’s not hanging out of the door by his fingertips waving and shouting frantically, recruiting travelers and avoiding passing traffic, collects the money and kicks anyone off who can’t pay. 4 hours later we arrive in Bac Kan only to get onto another bus to Cho Ra. A further 3 hours and we arrive in the
Conical Hats
These shoulder things are pretty uncomfortable. small town. We had some noodle soup at a very reasonable price and after some harassment by drunken men (drunk in the middle of the afternoon…) we got a motorbike taxi to Ba Be and to the middle of nowhere.
Ba Be
Ba Be was the most beautiful place I’ve visited in Vietnam and as yet unspoilt by tourism. We spent three days there relaxing and taking in some of the scenery, and in the whole time we were there saw only 4 westerners, a very refreshing change. I would write about Ba Be here but I don’t think I can find the words to describe it well enough to do it justice.
The Long Road Home
Vietnam is so much bigger than it looks on a map. It’s so long and varied. Even between the northwest and the northeast there was a dramatic difference in culture and climate. Back in Hue, the weather is hot and dry as it always is here and after two weeks of clothes being constantly damp and beginning to mould, it was quite pleasant having a washing machine again and a place to hang my clothes to dry. But Hue is so
quiet now to when I first arrived 10 weeks ago. At midday, sat at a café in one of the busiest areas, there is almost nothing. People here either sleep at this time of day, visit the surrounding areas or are simply not here anymore. At the edge of rainy season, it is perhaps not the most advised time for people to visit.
Last night I saw the most amazing thing, something which I now know to be called heat lightning; lightning without thunder. It races across the sky in the distance, illuminating the clouds in white and blue and pink. Every cloud is like a quiet and motionless renaissance painting. In that brief moment you feel as though you can almost see the heavens, yet hear nothing but the lullaby of the insects and the softness of your own breath. It’s strange but beautiful and fitting for my last night here.
I booked a taxi/shuttle bus to the airport earlier today for my flight this evening without really knowing what time I flew and unfortunately I managed to be out by 50 minutes. I do however have a book to read which will undoubtedly become a last resort due
Dog on the Menu
Time for a bite to eat to the increasing instability of the bag that it’s packed in. One of the straps has gone as has the main zip and although it is half zipped up right now, I’ll need to use cellotape to put it back together again should I want anything out of it (sadly all my clean underwear is in there). It just has to survive 3 days more and then that’s it; home. Somewhat unbelievably the mass of purchases and personal items which formed a small mountain covering my bed has compacted into my backpacker’s rucksack and the aforementioned duffle bag. Rereading my diary from the first few weeks here was entertaining if not cringeworthy. I had described even the simplest things which now seem mundane and hardly worth talking about. How strange it seems that in just over a week, I will be sat at the back of a lecture theatre listening to some bullshit about the curve of a wall, or walking down graffitied streets, my umbrella in hand and bike in tow.
And so I finish where I began, in Singapore, and to a 3am flight back to Heathrow.
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Fiona
non-member comment
Hey, thanks for blogging over the past few weeks..it's been great to see what you've been up to, and I'm glad you had such an amazing experience. Have a safe journey back to Manchester...see you soon! x