Author: Oli

Following a short but sweet visit to the colonial highland town of Đà Lạt, we were back on the road with our sights set on Ho Chi Minh City (formerly, and also still commonly, referred to as Sài Gòn). Once again, Team Tortoise and Team Hare went our separate ways:

🐢 Team Tortoise (Oli & Sara) boarded an eight-hour (daytime) sleeper bus in Đà Lạt, transferred to a minibus on the outskirts of Ho Chi Minh City (or HCMC for short), and walked the final 1.5 km to our hotel

🐇 Team Hare (Helen & Mick) hopped on a 50-minute flight to Ho Chi Minh City Airport, and took a taxi into the city

Unsurprisingly, flying was much faster and quite a bit more expensive, but emitted about five times as much carbon as taking the bus. Although their flight required them to depart our Đà Lạt hotel at 6am, Helen & Mick’s time advantage did give them the chance to go for lunch, visit a market, take a nap, and still be waiting for us in the hotel lobby looking refreshed when we arrived hot and tired! Still, I think the bus worked out much more favourably than it did on the last leg of our journey!

	Team Hare 🐇	Team Tortoise 🐢
Time	4 hours	10 hours
Cost	£112.46	£27.07
Carbon	106 kgCO2e	20 kgCO2e

As we arrived in the city, HCMC felt incredibly busy, with its eight-lane roads and endless tide of motorbikes. Even when applying Sara’s guide to crossing the road and heeding the pedestrian lights (where present), navigating HCMC’s streets wasn’t exactly a relaxing affair. Still, we loved the city’s endless energy, and couldn’t wait to eat some more Vietnamese specialities. After all, when I asked my HCMC-born barber in Hanoi what his favourite food was from home, he replied with enthusiasm: “EVERYTHING TASTES BETTER IN HO CHI MINH, MAN!”

Top of Sara’s food list was Bún chả, a dish of cold vermicelli noodles, pork meatballs and barbecued pork belly, fresh herbs and pickled carrot, all in a delicious broth and accompanied by a very deep fried spring roll. Despite this dish’s origins in Hanoi, it had so far evaded us since our arrival in Vietnam, so we put our faith in my barber’s theory that it would taste even better in HCMC and headed to Bún chả Hồ Gươm to get our fill. We were pretty hungry by the time we arrived, and the peppery spring rolls, salty barbecued pork, sticky noodles and huge pile of fresh leaves certainly hit the spot.

HCMC is the largest city in Vietnam (and has a population similar to that of London!), so we took a lift up to the 49th floor of the Bitexco Financial Tower to get a bit of perspective. Bizarrely, this skyscraper incorporates a helipad three-quarters of the way up, and the appearance makes it look like a UFO has crash-landed and become wedged in the building. It’s this helipad that contains the observation deck, where we watched the rush hour traffic flow through the city before the sun set behind the high-rise offices.

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The next day we took a taxi out to Chợ Lớn, HCMC’s Chinese quarter, which holds the record as the world’s largest Chinatown! Chợ Lớn is home to a handful of colourful temples, as well as a whole street of medicinal herb merchants.

We came across a huge variety of architecture as we walked the streets of HCMC. From the beautifully restored French-colonial Central Post Office and the vibrant pink gothic exterior of Tan Dinh Catholic Church, to the crumbling facades of Chợ Lớn and the ultra-modern skyscrapers of District 1, HCMC seemed to have something for everyone.

For our last dinner together, we decided to go out with a bang with a meal at Barbecue Garden. Our table featured a pit in the centre, into which the staff inserted a bowl of red-hot coals covered with a grill on which we cooked a handful of kebabs and vegetables. I’m going to blame the low light (rather than the draft beer) for the blurry photo below!

It was then sadly time to say goodbye to Mick & Helen, as they headed off to the airport to continue their trip through India. They called a Grab taxi (the SE-Asia equivalent of Uber), but were a little concerned when a tiny hatchback turned up. In contrast, the taxi driver looked downright panicked when he saw the four of us standing there, but relaxed when he realised only two people were travelling. He then optimistically tried to fit one of the suitcases into the boot, before giving up and stacking them on the backseat, leaving Helen & Mick to squeeze into what little space remained! We really enjoyed exploring Vietnam together – thanks so much for joining us on this leg of the trip 🙂

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While Helen & Mick headed to Delhi, we continued south to the archipelago of Côn Đảo to try to get our heads around the beautiful islands’ harrowing past.

The next stop on our journey south was the idyllic fishing village of An Bàng, located just a stone’s throw from the historic town of Hội An on Vietnam’s central coast.

The train ride from Huế to Đà Nẵng (An Bàng’s nearest train station) is widely regarded as one of the most spectacular sections of Vietnam’s North-South Reunification Express.

The route heads across lush fields and rice paddies before steadily climbing 500m in elevation to reach the Hải Vân pass, set out on a peninsula in the South China Sea. As the train crawls its way around the peninsula, the single track is squeezed between a rock face on one side and a vertical drop to the sea on the other. It certainly wasn’t the fastest route to Đà Nẵng, but it’s got to be the most scenic.

From Đà Nẵng station, the four of us crammed ourselves into a taxi to cover the remaining 25 km to An Bàng. We were delighted to find that the low-key vibe hadn’t changed from our last visit in 2014. There were just enough restaurants at the southwestern end of the village, where we were staying, to provide a bit of variety.

The beach itself was also pretty quiet, with about as many local fishermen as tourists sharing a narrow strip of white sand. Somehow, An Bàng still seems to hit the sweet spot between zero tourist infrastructure and becoming overrun.

A key reason for us returning to the region was a noodle dish called Cao lầu, which has haunted Sara’s dreams for the last nine years. Cao lầu consists of a bowl of roasted char siu pork, fresh mint and greens, sliced cucumber and flat noodles, sitting in a small amount of broth and topped with a teaspoon of chilli sauce, a slice of lime and crispy noodle-dough crackers. Crucially, the noodles are made from rice soaked in lye water (which is made using ash of local plants and water taken from a specific well in Hội An), giving them a unique springy texture and satisfying bite. However, this also means that Cao lầu can’t be found anywhere else in Vietnam, let alone the UK. To make up for this, we ate Cao lầu on each of three days we stayed in An Bàng, and weren’t even close to getting sick of it by the time we left.

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An Bàng is just a short cycle from Hội An, surely Vietnam’s most Instagrammable town. Our route took us through the Tra Que Vegetable Village, a beautiful (and very tourist friendly) farming area located halfway between the two towns. We enjoyed cycling along the narrow paths between rows of lettuces, mint, basil, coriander and countless other herbs and flowers. However, the heavens opened just as we exited the village, and we were forced to temporarily abandon our bikes and shelter under our umbrellas until the worst had passed.

We later bent our route through the countryside of Cẩm Thanh, along a network of dirt tracks between beautifully green rice paddies and palm forests.

On any other day, I’m sure Hội An’s ochre-walled French-colonial buildings would have been a feast for the eyes, but the day’s grey skies meant that we didn’t see the town at its most splendid. Still, after dark the Thu Bồn River is illuminated by hundreds of multicoloured lanterns, which more than made up for the daytime weather.

While walking through Hội An’s market that afternoon, we could hear a great commotion coming from the river. When we reached the riverbank, we found nine boats of eight rowers each racing up and down the water. Through some quick Internet research, we learned that this boat race is held annually to celebrate the lunar new year, and that each boat represents a different ward of Hội An. Despite the miserable weather, it seemed like half the town had come out to cheer on their respective ward, using cooking pots and utensils to make as much noise as possible. We had no idea that our visit to Hội An was going to coincide with this boat race, so felt very fortunate to be able to witness this local tradition.

But as often seems to be the case in the Vietnam, it was the food that was once again our highlight. We had fond memories of eating a mountain of delicious but baffling rice-paper rolls down a dark alley on the outskirts of Hội An, and so we were keen to drag Helen & Mick with us on our return. While the Bale Well Restaurant has since expanded into a huge garden adjacent to the original alley (which is by no means dark and hidden any longer), thankfully the food was exactly as we remembered.

Constructing the perfect roll was a little anxiety inducing, especially considering how closely we were being watched by the staff who didn’t hesitate to intervene when we inevitably got things wrong. Thankfully, they picked Mick as their main victim and so Helen, Sara and I were mostly left alone! After a couple of demonstrations and corrections, we learned to follow these steps:

1. Take two sheets of rice paper, overlap them slightly and lay them in the palm of your hand
2. Add either a deep fried spring roll or an unravelled yellow rice flour pancake
3. Arrange an assortment of fresh herbs, cucumber and pickled cabbage on top
4. Add a skewer of barbecued pork
5. Roll the whole thing up (assuming you haven’t overstuffed it) and grip it just firmly enough so that you can pull the barbequed pork from its skewer
6. Mix the satay sauce with your desired level of chilli sauce, dip the roll, and consume
7. Wash down with a chilled Larue beer

This really felt like Vietnamese cuisine at its finest.

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After a relaxing few days in An Bàng, it was time to move on to something quite different. Our next destination would be Đà Lạt, the temperate mountain retreat favoured by French colonists.

Our first attempt to visit Hạ Long Bay 9 years ago was sadly cancelled when a typhoon hit northern Vietnam. At the time, our reaction was to go to the pub (a Bia hơi cafe on a corner) and wait for it all to blow over. We clearly knew nothing about typhoons, as while the rest of Hanoi battened down the hatches, we kept ordering more draft beer. Spoiler alert – the rain didn’t stop and I lost a flip-flop on the swim back to the hotel.

But this time things were different, thank goodness. The sun was shining as we left Hanoi, and it stayed with us through Hạ Long Bay, and all the way to Lan Ha Bay where our ship dropped its anchor.

Honestly, I was ready to be a little disappointed by Hạ Long Bay, as we’d read a lot about how busy it can be. For this reason, we flexed our budget on a two-night cruise that went beyond where most other ships turn around, in the hope of beating the crowds. Sure enough, we weren’t the only ship cruising through the collection of stunning limestone mountains of Hạ Long Bay.

But as promised, we were alone when we reached our mooring place in Lan Ha Bay.

The ship itself exceeded all of my expectations too. My closest parallel was the incredibly shonky two-bedroom boat on which we cruised around the backwaters of Kerala in India, where the fan in Helen’s room threatened to leap off the ceiling on every rotation. Our Hạ Long Bay ship in comparison was more than a step up, maybe more like a high-jump up. In fact, our cabin was more slick than many hotels we’ve stayed in on this trip.

While the cruising itself was appropriately beautiful, it was the trips away from the boat that were most memorable.

The kayaking that ended in hysterics

Kayaking around Lan Ha Bay was probably the highlight of the trip altogether. There’s just something about quietly drifting past the limestone mountains away from the chug of an engine that made the scenery even more picturesque. That is, if you can ignore the general bickering that comes as standard in a two-person kayak. After repeatedly veering right while attempting to paddle straight, Sara and I eventually teamed up on the kayak, which we blamed for our lack of control. With a common enemy, our teamwork immediately improved.

We paddled through the bay and under a rock arch to reach a lagoon, which was completely surrounded by limestone cliffs on all sides. Here the water was even more calm, without a single wave to wobble our serene kayak.

Our guide suggested that this would be a good place for a swim, so Helen, Sara and I obliged by sliding off our kayaks and into the water. While slightly milder than the open bay, the water in the lagoon wasn’t what I’d call warm, and I was the first to clamber back into our kayak to dry off and warm up. Sara and Helen followed shortly after, leaving one lady from our group left to make the (inevitably ungainly) haul. The issue was, she made it halfway up before the giggles arrived. In an effort to help, our guide repeatedly shouted “DON’T LAUGH, DON’T LAUGH”, which unsurprisingly had the opposite effect. Now in full hysterics and with the rest of the group joining in, she managed to beach herself half on, half off the kayak, before losing all control of her limbs. Eventually, assistance arrived from some fellow kayakers, and she slid face-first into the kayak, but still unable to talk through laughter. Honestly, I don’t think I would have had the heart to recount this story if it wasn’t for how well she laughed off the whole affair as we paddled back to the ship to warm up.

The hike to the summit

The following day we were up bright and early to get a different perspective on the region – from above. We took a small boat to Cát Bà, the largest island located right in the middle of Hạ Long Bay, and hopped onto a minibus from the shore to take us into Cát Bà National Park.

From here, we began the trek up through the rainforest to the Tháp quan sát viewpoint. The weather was mercifully cloudy and the thick canopy of trees ensured we were protected from the sun through any breaks in the cloud. The hike really wasn’t far, but the steep gradient rewarded our efforts with panoramic views over the island’s hundreds of peaks.

In the afternoon, we explored Trung Trang Cave via a 300m route through the mountain, past countless stalactites and stalagmites, some of which were even large enough to meet in the middle. At times the path was pretty tight, with no shortage of rock for me to hit my head on. The air inside the cave was uncomfortably warm and humid, in a stark contrast to the (relatively) cool winter air outside.

We spent the rest of the day recovering from the exertion on Cat Co 3 Beach – a stunning strip of sand at the foot of the Hôtel Perle d’Orient Cat Ba. While it wasn’t quite the weather for sunbathing, it did make a very peaceful spot for a quiet nap.

The cycle to Viet Hai Village

On the final day of our cruise we cycled 4 km inland across Cat Ba island to reach Viet Hai village. The path was almost entirely very well paved, apart from a short detour through rice fields, which was slightly rougher but even more beautiful.

I was surprised to learn that Viet Hai is actually a fishing village, despite being situated a few kilometres from the sea. This is primarily because Viet Hai is surrounded by mountains and therefore the village isn’t connected to any other towns by road. As a result, all goods must travel by sea and along the same path along which we’d just cycled.

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With all the activities, our cruise felt like it came to an end all too soon. I think we were expecting to spend a bit more time gently chugging through the bay and less time exercising, but it was probably for the best given how much we ate at the incredible buffet dinners.

Following our cruise, we returned to Hanoi in order to catch an overnight sleeper train to Huế, the ancient capital of Vietnam and home to the famously spicy noodle soup.