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Published: March 12th 2008
The first part of our journey on the Reunification Express from Hoi An to Hanoi took us through some very nice coastal scenery which we couldn't get any pics of because the windows, like the cabin, were filthy. The further north we got the less interesting the views became until we got bored and thoughts turned to what we are missing from home. Sorry to disappoint people but it was mainly food - sausages, sunday dinners, lamb, beans and yorkshire puddings.
We decided to explore Hanoi's old quarter on foot, which was nice as we got to squeeze down the tiny alleys which held food stalls and were away from the motorbike infested roads. Our decision to walk did disappoint hundreds of cylco drivers though as they cried, 'one hour,' at us from every corner. Each little street we walked down seemed to lead to old houses and shops with lots of good looking food, interesting smells and eccentric locals. The temples and houses we looked in were nice but nothing was really able to escape the noise of Hanoi's streets.
After being convinced that the 14p beer in Hoi An was the best deal we would get
Black Hmong Women
The older lady seemed to find me funny - one glance and she would burst into laughter.on the entire trip we were happy to be proved wrong when we stumbled on Bia Hoi for 7p a glass. Bia Hoi is basically home brew which is sold from a barrel on a street corner with a few stools. Fuelled by this I decided to restart my attempts at speaking Vietnamese. Much to the amusement of the restaurant workers nearby. We do at least now know one very important phrase, 'Cham Phan Cham,' meaning down in one.
The next day we ignored the map and just went out to get lost in the old quarter. Somehow, each street seemed to have something nice to buy and, at this rate, we'll need a mansion for all the furnishings we've bought.
A visit to Ha Long bay is seen as one of the highlights of a trip to Vietnam and we headed there to stay the night on a boat. The popularity of the trips is evident on arrival at the harbour as many of Ha Long's 500 boats jostle for space, knocking each other out of the way and setting sail into the distance.
There were only eight people and as many staff on our
boat which could probably have held twice as many. The cabins were nice and the food good but the main reason for visiting is the scenery. It was so relaxing to sail along and give our ears a break from the Hanoi traffic. Limestone karsts rose from the sea all around while the water was a very inviting blue-green colour. Among the karsts are the occassional fishing village and women in rowing boats packed with everything you could ever need on a sailing trip - cookies, crisps and beer.
We made a stop at some caves which were much more impressive than I expected, with huge caverns of stalactites and stalagmites. As our guide got us there nice and early we had the place pretty much to ourselves. Had we been there later with the tourist hoardes it would probably have been a different experience altogether.
After the caves it was time to go kayaking. For a first kayaking experience Ha Long was a good choice as the area is so beautiful. We were not very co-ordinated at first as our two man kayak would go off at strange angles, even managing to run aground. Eventually we got
the hang of it though and the kayak allowed us places that the boat could not get. We paddled through a tunnel which then opened onto a lake, the tunnel being the only access point. The water was very clear and it was nice to sit for a while in the middle of the lake, listening to the birds on the cliffs and spotting sea eagles.
Next it was time to swim. Actually it was more like diving than swimming as I climbed to the top deck of the boat, stepped over the railings and jumped. It felt like I was falling through the air for a very long time before I eventually plunged into the cold water.
As we ate that night we managed to get through a fair amount of Vietnamese wine before convincing Ba, our guide who was a little drunk by then, to give us some free rice wine. Needless to say we slept very well that night. Ba means three in Vietnamese and our guide was given the name by unimaginative parents as he was their third child. The parents wanted a baby girl and it took eight sons before they finally had
Bridge in Hanoi
Can you spot the camouflaged Spondonite? one. They were so pleased they named her.......Girl.
The next destination after Ha Long Bay was Sapa in the northern mountains of Vietnam. We arrived there on the train at 06:00am after sharing a cabin for the night with a Spanish couple who would be joining us trekking the next day. They were on their honeymoon after a three day wedding - Allee's eyes lit up at the thought of it. Immediately on arrival at Sapa we noticed the amount of hill-tribe women in the town. They are distinguishable by their dress and would follow us around asking our name, age, nationality and how many children we have. They would then memorise this and sometimes as we were walking along we would hear, 'Ant, how are you?'
That morning we set off on a trek to the minority village where we would spend the night at a homestay. Our group was made up of ourselves, the Spanish couple from the train, a Dutch couple and our guide, Nam....as well as four Black Hmong women, one of whom had a baby tied to her back. They were very nice, chatting away to us and helping us along. They
Propaganda Poster
I had to take this on the sly but loved the way that Uncle Ho smiles down lovingly on a young child carrying a gun. These posters have slogans such as, 'Nobody loves children like Uncle Ho does,' and, 'When Uncle Ho says victory, it means victory.' made the experience much more interesting and the money we spent buying ear-rings from them at the end of the day was well worth it.
The scenery along the first day of trekking was like nothing either of us had seen before, made even better by our luck with the weather which was fairly clear and warm after days of rain in the area. There were mountains as far as the eye could see and on each of these mountains were curving, glistening rice terraces. It is a remarkable sight and hard to believe that people can get here to grow and collect the rice, never mind creating the terraces in the first place. Added to this was a river, snaking through the valley below, which rounded the scene off perfectly. I feel like it needs more description but it is difficult to put into words and the pictures barely do it justice.
After about five hours of walking we arrived at our home for the night in a Dzay village. We were surrounded by women from the Black Hmong, Red Dzao and Dzay villages trying to sell us handicrafts. I couldn't help but relent a few times,
especially in return for some photos.
When it was time to eat we were shown the open fire in the wooden house we would be sleeping in. Onto the fire was placed a large wok and into the wok lots of oil. Curious as to what food would follow we were suprised to see a large bowl of chips poured into the oil to deep fry. Nam claims that french fries and crepes are Vietnamese inventions stolen by the French. It turned out that these were a starter and a table of lovely Vietnamese food followed, including what could be the best spring rolls of the trip. With every couple of mouthfuls of food our host would fill our glasses with rice wine which would then be downed before eating any more. This was getting us quite merry until later that night we had a very sobering experience. Slightly the worse for wear after the rice wine I went to the outside toilet when I heard screaming from somewhere in the dark. Going back to the house I found that the others had heard it too and villagers were going to see what had happened. It turned out that
the screaming was coming from a young girl who had woken to find her sister gone. In these villages a man traditionally pays a dowry to a girl's family in order to marry her. If a woman loves a man who can not afford to pay the dowry she sometimes runs away with him to marry. Unfortunately, there are other men who will avoid paying by kidnapping a bride. Once they are married, the girl's family can do nothing. We will never know which was the case that night, but the sister's cries went on for a long time, echoing in the darkness.
The family cockerel decided that 04:00am was about the time that lazy foreigners should be waking up but the walking the day before had left us tired enough to eventually sleep through its crowing. We woke later to a breakfast of pancakes before saying goodbye to the Dzay family and setting off walking again. As we did we learned more about the customs of the Red Dzao people, whose village we would pass through that morning. Of the customs two in particular stood out as more than a little bizarre. The first is the custom of
'burying in the sky,' whereby dead people are placed in cages and hung in trees where birds can help them along with their decomposition. The second is the custom that boys as young as ten are married, but to older girls. Ten year old boys are often married to eighteen or twenty year old women. Lucky boy you might think, except that he has to carry his new wife on his back from her village to his, often a lot of miles and a few mountains away. The woman then shaves off her eyebrows and the front of her hair to show that she is married. Black Hmong women show that they are married by wearing large ear-rings.
The trekking was more difficult on the second day but I had to laugh when we were all carefully picking our way down a hill and Allee went running past, shouting 'Woooooooo' and unable to stop. As we walked lots of the houses had chicks and puppies roaming around outside. Chicks are cheaper than grown hens at the market and can be grown and fattened for meat. The same applies to the puppies.
Back in Sapa we walked to another
Jumping off the boat.
Either that or I'm levitating above the sea. I jumped from the very top bit of the picture, this is about half way down. village, Cat Cat, with a new guide, Lai, who liked to pretend that he was beating me up. Cat Cat is nice but nothing to compared to what we had seen the previous two days. In Sapa town we stood trying to decide whether to buy a hand-made blanket to go with the cushion covers we bought at the market. My voice must have carried on the wind as before we knew it we were surrounded by about ten women, all in tribal dress, all with their arms spread to show us their blanket, all saying 'You buy from meeee?' Looking past them there were other women literally running up the hill towards us, unfolding blankets as they came. We squeezed out and sought refuge in a cafe where we silently haggled with one old lady through the window before I went out to buy the blanket. That night it was back to Hanoi.
We had decided to fly from Hanoi to Laos as our visa was almost at an end. Arriving at the airport two hours before we were due to fly we suddenly realised that our passports were still at the Hanoi hotel we had been
staying at. Frantically trying to find a phone and call the hotel we eventually got through to be told that someone would bring the passports but that it would probably take an hour to get there. That was leaving it very fine for checking in. After what was possibly the longest hour of our lives a motorbike turned up with the passports and we checked in and headed for security. We got through with a little time to spare and went to board the plane which was the next big shock of the day......it was tiny. So tiny in fact that we could see the propellers and sit looking at them out of the window, which is what I did for most of the flight, convinced that we would have an Indiana Jones moment where the propellers stutter and slowly come to a halt. Thankfully this didn't happen and, even more thankfully, there was free beer on the flight to take our minds off it. We may be grey the next time you see us if this carries on.
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Laura B
non-member comment
Pictures are amazing it looks beautiful! u are both looking well and many pics with beer in hand!! Keep the blogs going im luving reading all about your adventures. Loads of luv. xxx