The first thing that hit us on exiting the plane as we landed into Hanoi was the cloying heat. I’m fine with hot, we’ve had a lot of hot weather on this trip, but most of that has been a reasonably dry desert-like heat. Japan was a bit more humid, but still bearable. Vietnam, especially in July, is a totally different animal. With temperatures in the mid to high thirties, and humidity closing in on 100%, it’s no wonder they advise you to avoid the rainy summer season in Hanoi. But did we listen? Nah, it’s probably fine, right?
Luckily, we had booked a private transfer to extract us from the chaotic carnage and almost inevitable taxi-scam minefield of Hanoi airport, and whisk us away into the centre of town in relative, and thankfully air-conditioned, luxury. As we pulled up to our hotel, our first challenge was fending off the extremely enthusiastic lady from the neighbouring massage parlour, trying her hardest to entice us with rock bottom prices. She was on us like a fly on the proverbial. Maybe later on love, give us a chance – we’ve still got all our luggage with us!
Our booking had been for interconnecting rooms, but apparently they interpret this kind of request fairly loosely in Vietnam, and although our rooms were on the same floor, they were not even close to each other, let alone joined by an interconnecting door. This meant that the kids were to be sleeping in their very own hotel room, without us being able to keep a watchful eye over them. To be fair, kids in this country are out running their own businesses by Hunter’s age, so I don’t suppose it’s beyond the realms of possibility to expect them to be ok in their own hotel room. They loved having their own space without Mum and Dad cramping their style, and once they’d worked out using the phone to call us if they needed us, they were away! Interesting point here though – my kids, and I guess kids today in general, don’t know how a real phone works. I guess they’re too used to messages and FaceTime. The phone rang on the bedside table, and they both just looked at it in bemusement. The idea of picking up the handset and placing it to the side of their head was completely alien. Christ, I must be old.
After a few hours of re-organising and relaxing, we went for our first wander around Hanoi. First impressions? Total sensory overload! Having arrived here from a rigidly ordered and respectful place such as Japan, this is like arriving on another planet. The sounds (it’s loud!), the smells, the sights – it’s a lot. Once you accept the intense climate you find yourself in, and your ears adjust to the cacophony of noise surrounding you, the next thing you have to acclimatise to is navigating the streets as a pedestrian. The pavements are pretty much a no-go area – if you manage to avoid the cluttered restaurant seating, pavement sellers and random people cooking their dinner, you still have to navigate the thousands of scooters that seem to view the pavement as off-road parking. No no, if you’re a pedestrian in Hanoi, you walk on the road with the traffic. Im used to traffic coming from one direction, that’s standard most places, right? So walking towards traffic is usually the safest way to navigate streets. But Hanoi doesn’t wanna let a silly little thing like “rules” detract from your pedestrian experience, oh no! Traffic here comes from whichever bloody way it wants to. That said, it doesn’t move very fast, and they seem to be pretty good at avoiding you. As long as you keep your wits about you, and stay in a straight line you should be fine. Easier said than done for Bam and her permanent imaginary world, she was not designed for the perilous streets of Vietnam!
Your next challenge is working out how to cross the street. Sure, there are pedestrian crossings painted on the roads, but don’t be fooled – essentially they mean absolutely nothing. The occasional car might stop at the crossing if you’re lucky, but the majority won’t, and the scooters definitely won’t. After observing for a few minutes, we deciphered that the preferred method was to simply step into traffic and walk in a steady straight line across the road, and the swarm of mopeds will drive around you. Hopefully. This felt strange and unnerving to begin with, but amazingly after an hour or so, we were perfectly comfortable with stepping into a busy road, tightly clutching the hands of our children as we ran the Hanoi gauntlet.
An hour or two exploring in this heat was more than enough for our first evening. We found ourselves some food and a refreshing beverage at one of the many roadside eateries before heading home. Food is cheap. Very cheap. In fact everything is cheap in Vietnam, and the currency exchange is hilarious. At the time of writing this, the exchange rate was around 30,000 Dong to each British pound. On average, a beer was about 20,000 Dong and a tasty Banh Mi sandwich would set you back about 35,000 – so dinner was less than a couple of quid each.
Bam was also keen to have her nails done again, and were better to do it than in Vietnam, the home of cheap nail couture. So for the princely sum of around three quid, we enjoyed a bit of well needed Aircon while Bam tended to her beauty cravings.
As we approached our hotel, the lady from the massage parlour next door was once again attempting to draw us in with promises of cheap massages. What the hell, we thought, in for a penny and all that. Hunter wasn’t really up for it, he gets slightly creeped out by the idea of some random person prodding and rubbing his body. So we deposited him in his room with his iPad for company and headed back downstairs to work out a deal. We agreed a price for the three of us for an hour, and headed in to get going. Needless to say Bam loved it, although my opinion was that it was a bit rough and ready. Ah well, not bad for twenty quid right? But surprise, surprise – the price we agreed before starting had somehow magically changed into a completely different price. AND, they were all demanding tips before we were allowed to leave. I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised, it was really cheap to start with. But what bugs me though, is that IF they had just asked for that price to start with, I would have happily paid it. It’s the fact that they lie to get you in there, then double the price on you. The problem is, it’s not a sustainable business model. We’re here for a few nights, and would probably pop in a few more times. But now that I feel like you’ve stitched me up, I’ll just spend my money elsewhere instead. Ah well, their loss!
The following morning, after enjoying the included buffet brekkie, we made our way into town for a proper look around. There is a handy app you have to download if you’re visiting south-east Asia called Grab. It’s a bit like Uber, and is the best and safest way to order taxis or mopeds to get around. The price is fixed when ordering on the app, thus avoiding any possible fare based scams and the inevitable ensuing arguments. A 10 minute ride from our hotel into the city centre was a paltry 33,000 dong. £1.10! That’s the starting rate for any journey, so all our short hops around town cost us just over a quid. You can’t argue with that, why on earth would you bother walking, especially in this heat.
The taxi dropped us first at Dong Xuan Market, nestled on the edge of the old quarter. This 100 year old, 3 storey behemoth houses almost 100,000 square feet of wholesale and retail goods, selling everything from dried seafood to souvenirs. It very much felt like a local shopping market, where the residents would come to purchase their supplies and restock their wardrobes. The ground floor was more touristy, with the usual array of carved goods and pointy hats, but venture upwards and there were no tourists to be seen. We didn’t buy much, but it was interesting nonetheless.
We took a wander through the labyrinthine streets of the old town, dicing with death on the various crossings and pavementless pathways. The delightfully dilapidated remains of this French colonial hub are a joy to explore, with a strange backdrop of various archaic architectural styles blending into the chaos of buzzing mopeds and baying street vendors.
We were practically melting by this point, and headed towards Hoan Kiem Lake for a rest and some liquid refreshment. This Lake is home to Ngoc Som Temple, linked to the banks of the lake by the iconic red Huc bridge. Ngoc Som is the most visited temple in Hanoi, and rightly so with its gorgeous Buddhist architecture offering an island of serenity in the centre of the surrounding mayhem.
A speedy roadside lunch was followed by a leisurely trundle through the streets aboard the touristy three wheeled Cyclo. I say leisurely – it was leisurely for us in the front seats as our drivers expertly navigated the busy junctions and ignored countless red lights – not so leisurely for the poor sods powering the single geared tricycles in this stifling weather. Needless to say they were absolutely dripping in sweat by the time we arrived. That said, they still operated another unavoidable scam. We had agreed a price for the two cyclo rides before setting foot on either vehicle, but of course when it came time to pay, that price had magically turned into the price PER vehicle. We knew it was going to happen, and it was still bloody cheap considering the effort required, so we didn’t even bother arguing. But, again, why bother lying?! Just be honest with the price up front and we’d have been happy with it anyway.
Our cyclos had dropped us at a tourist must-see, and a place of pilgrimage for every good Vietnamese citizen, the Mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh. There is actually a huge complex to see here, comprising gardens, monuments and museums. But we were only here to see the tomb of the deceased revolutionary himself, who is laid to rest in a glass sarcophagus in the central marble building. Unfortunately though, I had failed to translate the Vietnamese visitors page correctly, and we had missed the visiting times for the day. Turns out you need to be up bright and early to view the embalmed body of a long deceased Vietnamese folk hero, as he knocks off by 11am. So we satisfied ourselves with a few selfies in front of the Mausoleum and the neighbouring colonial government offices, and ordered a Grab to save us from the heat and take us back to the middle of town for a stroll back along the banks of Hoan Kiem towards our final event for the day.
The Thang Long puppetry theatre is home to a modern version of traditional Vietnamese water puppetry. This art form dates back as far as the 11th century, and has its roots in the paddy fields of northern Vietnam. When the rice fields would flood, the farmers would amuse themselves by making wooden puppets dance on the surface of the water, retelling old tales and legends. Basically, the focal point of the theatre is a large pool of water, in which the puppeteers sit, waist deep and hidden behind a screen. They operate the lacquered wooden puppets via long, submerged bamboo poles, and the stories are given voices and a soundtrack by an orchestra sitting either side of the stage. Even though we didn’t understand a word of the 50 minute performance, it was a lovely thing to watch, and the kids enjoyed every minute of it.
We finished the day off with yet another massage. The next door shouty lady obviously tried to drag us in again. Ha, jog on love, we were going somewhere that told us the correct prices up front, if it’s all the same with you! We had been recommended a place by the concierge, and they did indeed stick to the advertised prices. Poor old Hunter still didn’t fancy a go himself, but chose instead to bring his earphones and have a bit of quiet time with his iPad in the room with me. Revitalised, we headed home for a decent nights sleep as we had an early start the next day.
We checked out of our room at 7am the following morning, and took advantage of being first in line for the buffet before our luxury transfer van arrived to whisk us away at 8am. We were travelling 100 miles to the East today, as we had booked a single night cruise around the UNESCO world heritage site of Ha Long Bay aboard the opulent Genesis Regal cruise ship. The bay of the descending dragon (as Ha Long translates into English) is a remarkable collection of over two thousand majestic rainforest-topped, limestone karsts rising from the tranquil emerald-green waters, and is probably the most recognisable feature of Vietnam for most people. The bay attracts a huge amount of visitors every year, and is postively crawling with luxury junk-style vessels like the one we are staying on. You are obviously going to be walking a very well trodden tourist path here, but what better way to see the sights of this region than from your very own roll top bathtub, adjoining your luxury air-conditioned hotel room, with panoramic windows overlooking the bay as you drift lazily through the islands.
The itinerary is pretty jam-packed as soon as you alight the tender boat from the harbour to the cruise ship, and before you even set foot in your hotel room, you are sat down for lunch at your pre-determined table. The food choices are very accommodating, and if you don’t like what’s on the set menu they’ll do their best to rustle you up something from the kitchen. This is a god send for parents of fussy children who might otherwise struggle with formal meals.
After finally settling into our adjoining rooms, the first activity on our agenda was a visit to a local cave via a bamboo row boat. How on earth these guys row these boats full of overweight tourists back and forth to this cave all day is beyond me. I was in a t-shirt and shorts, and I was dripping in sweat just sitting down. The poor lady powering our boat was wearing a long sleeved shirt over a base layer, long trousers, a face covering, AND GLOVES! I guess she was well protected from blisters, mosquitos and the sun, but I think I’d have passed out within five minutes from heat exhaustion.
After heading back to the boat, the kids made some friends in the bow mounted jacuzzi, while we enjoyed a cocktail or two on the top deck. There were countless little boats buzzing around the harbour with their decks neatly arranged like supermarket shopping shelves. They spent their days approaching the larger tourist-laden vessels offering snacks and drinks at prices lower than the cruise liners were offering. I couldn’t resist having a go, and called a nearby vendor over to peruse her wares. I asked for a local beer, and it was promptly delivered to my balcony via a bamboo pole mounted fishing net. I swapped the can for some cash and off she sped before the boat staff noticed. A perfect clandestine transaction, except for the fact that the beer was hotter than the surface of the sun, having been sat in the searing heat all day. Aha, but I had chosen the same brand available in our room’s mini bar – swapsies!
Next up, sea swimming. We spent a good hour or so jumping from the rear of the stern-mounted tender and bobbing in the emerald water, while the more adventurous swimmers (Hunter and Co) dived and jumped from the top deck. The water temperature in Vietnam is glorious, and if it wasn’t for the permanent smell of diesel from the thousands of watercraft and the various pieces of rubbish floating past, I would have said it was perfect. Can’t have everything I suppose.
The kids headed back to the jacuzzi after the sea swimming lost its appeal. They might as well grow fins and gills these kids, they seem much happier in water than on dry land. Kate indulged in the Vietnamese spring roll making lesson while I sampled a few more of the happy hour cocktails. The kids got in on the happy hour action too, they can’t resist a Virgin Colada or two by the pool.
Dinner was a full on five course culinary adventure, accompanied by an array of modern pop classics expertly classicised by the resident Dan Bau expert. We finished the night off with a spot of squid fishing off the stern. We were offered prizes of beers for the first and largest catches, but what the sneaky sods didn’t tell us was that it wasn’t actually squid season, and our chances of snaring a squidgy cephalopod were practically zero. As all good fishermen know though, fishing is less about catching a fish and more about lazing about and sharing a beer or two with friends, or in this case my boy. Not the beer obviously, that would be irresponsible. Hunter was actually the only prize winner of the evening. He managed to hook an entire bag of rubbish with his bamboo pole, for which he was rewarded a beer (for me), seeing as nobody was gonna win the fishing! After an hour of nothing but trash, we called it a day. Tomorrow was gonna be another horribly early one, to take advantage of one last Ha Long activity.
We woke early, and arranged ourselves on the tender by 7:30am sharp. No time for lie-ins around here, it’s not like we’re supposed to be on a relaxing luxury cruise or anything! We were off for an early morning strenuous paddle around a nearby cove in the most uncomfortable kayaks I had ever encountered. If you could ignore the stifling heat and constant canoe-induced backache, then I guess it was a pretty cool way to explore the coastline. After an hour though, we were perfectly happy to head back to our room and enjoy a cleansing shower before check out. The kids finally got a chance to check out the views from those bathtubs too.
We vacated our rooms, and headed down to breakfast before relaxing on the deck for the cruise back to port. These boats have a very quick turnaround, and the rooms would be turned over on our way back in, ready to welcome the next batch and head straight back out through the bay. It’s a pretty well oiled machine, and these crew do it every day for three weeks straight until they are allowed a break.
After disembarking, our limousine van arrived to return us to Hanoi. We stopped half way at the same tourist trap refreshment bar we had frequented on the outbound journey. I guess the drivers receive a kickback for stopping here and helping them to empty the eager tourists’ wallets. The same “souvenirs” could be procured for half the price on any Hanoi backstreet, but that didn’t seem to deter these punters.
We were staying one last night in the same hotel we had left the day before, and this time they had managed to put our rooms next to each other. They still weren’t adjoining, so the kids were again able to enjoy their own peace and quiet (and us too I suppose), but at least we were a bit closer together.
We headed out for one last wander around the neighbourhood that evening, to enjoy one final roadside meal. Bam had been promised one more visit to the massage parlour while it was still dirt cheap, so poor old Hunter had to suck it up one final time. My pasty, Caucasian skin apparently doesn’t like having all this oil forced into it while furiously sweating in this humid environment, and I had actually ended up with heat rash on my back and legs. Maybe I should have joined Hunter on the sidelines and left the girls to it!
Well, that was that for Vietnam. It had been another flying visit, just enough to give us a taster of what this country has to offer. One more horribly early morning saw us arriving at the airport by 7:30am to catch our flight to the next, and penultimate destination on our hit list. Next stop was Kate’s old stomping ground – Hong Kong here we come…