Halong and Lan Ha Bay are two outstanding gems of Vietnam’s tourism with similar scenery of limestone islands on the emerald sea. These are great options for a one-day cruise; however, many travelers wonder which one of them is suitable for their 1-night trip. This article will provide useful insights to help you make your decision easily and quickly.

The main differences between Halong Bay & Lan Ha Cruise

Despite cruising through pretty similar landscapes, the experience for 2-day-1-night cruises differs in each bay.

Itinerary

Halong Bay cruises typically follow a common route of Titop Island – Luon Cave – Sung Sot Cave. The itinerary often includes swimming and water activities in Titop, kayaking or bamboo boating to pass through Luon Cave as well as walking to explore Sung Sot Cave. Additionally, most locations in Ha Long have been well-known and utilized for sightseeing tourism for a long time, so the infrastructure is modern. For instance, Indochine Cruise Halong Bay offers luxury amenities and classic route to the best highlights of the bay.

In contrast, Lan Ha Bay Cruise stands out with a wealth of exploration spots, including landmarks less visited by tourists. The cruise ships here mostly include Dark & Bright Cave and Tra Bau Area in the schedule. However, besides the popular route through common tourist spots, some cruises here also offer tours to more unique destinations, Ginger Cruise Halong Bay with Viet Hai Village on Cat Ba Island and Frog Pond during its 1-night cruise.

Type of cruise

Since the tourism industry in Ha Long is older and more developed with a huge volume of tourists every year, Halong Bay Cruise focuses on medium to large-capacity boats over 20 cabins, catering well to a large number of guests. The predominant style here is traditional Vietnamese, but there are also a few boats with a modern style to meet the diverse needs of travelers.

Cruises in Lan Ha Bay are notable for their variety of boat types, ranging from small boats with only 10 cabins to larger ones with over 30 cabins. As a trending tourist destination in recent years, Lan Ha Bay has received more investment and attention, resulting in most of the boats being newly launched or recently operated. Each boat has its own unique character to cater to different groups of guests, from distinctive boutique boats to luxurious, modern yachts like the Doris Cruise Ha Long Bay.

Departure port

There are two main harbors for arriving and departing tourist ships: Halong International Harbor, located near the city center of Ha Long, and Tuan Chau Marina, situated in Tuan Chau, 12.5 km from Ha Long City. While tourists can embark on Halong Bay cruise ships right at the port, Lan Ha Bay cruise ships usually moor in the middle of the bay, taking around a 25-minute tender transfer from the port. This makes accessing Halong Bay cruises a bit easier than Lan Ha Bay cruises.

Which cruise will be suitable for your 1-night trip?

Halong Bay Cruise is suitable for first-time visitors to Vietnam who want to explore famous destinations that are the icons of the bay. Here, tourists will participate in interesting activities with a more energetic vibe of a lively tourist destination. With a variety of large-capacity boats, the cruise here offers spacious and comfortable environments, making it ideal for families and large groups of friends.

Meanwhile, Lan Ha Bay Cruise caters to couples, older adults, and smaller groups who prefer a more unique and peaceful travel experience. The activities at the attractions in the cruise itineraries here are similar to those of Halong Bay Cruise, such as kayaking, swimming, and sightseeing; however, it is more tranquil and closer to nature. With elegantly designed services, the cruise offers a gentle and intimate journey, allowing travelers to fully enjoy relaxation.

Cruises in both Halong Bay and Lan Ha Bay offer travelers unique and captivating experiences, each with its own charm. Depending on your preferences and budget, you can choose the most suitable trip to enjoy the natural wonders of Vietnam. To learn more about the cruises around these bays, contact BestPrice Travel, the most reputable tour provider in Viet Nam to have the best support.

I landed in Hanoi with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. I’m a history buff; I knew the settlement was prehistoric and I wanted to learn about Hanoi’s transition from a fiefdom to a communist state and lately, to a rudimentary form of capitalism. But I was also nervous. It was 40 years after the end of the Vietnam War, or what the Vietnamese call the American War, and I must confess I was worried about any residual resentment the Vietnamese might harbour towards the West. We Canadians are similar to Americans. We look the same, eat the same foods and share a common language. In the eyes of the world, we are virtually indistinguishable from each other and as a North American, I felt conspicuous dropping into a capital city that had once been bombed.

Noi Bai International Airport was not particularly welcoming. My wife and I were whisked into a cold, grey, concrete outbuilding where we presented our passports to dour, unflinching officials and then to another counter where we paid 25 U.S. dollars each to get our visas stamped. I wanted to question the surtax but we pressed on.

A 45-minute taxi ride from the airport took us to the Ba Dinh district, one of several prescribed tourist districts in the city and dropped us off at our hotel, the Hong Ngoc Cochinchine, an older but well-maintained establishment in a neighborhood loaded with English speaking merchants, lots of ATMs and a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. It was close to the prescribed sights, the Opera House, Bach Ma Temple and of course the Old Quarter. The friendly matron at the front desk greeted us in English but she could also converse in French. In fact we heard a lot of French during our stay.

Dinner time was particularly cacophonous. The tables were close together and I overheard a gaggle of French tourists discussing their day. No surprise there. But German? I struck up a conversation with the nearby table. Peter Wolff was from Berlin and his daughter Natalie was from Wellington, New Zealand. They had agreed to meet halfway between the two in Hanoi but Peter had another reason for visiting Vietnam’s capital city. “My Dad remembers collecting bottles for Vietnam,” said Natalie referring to the decade after Vietnam’s reunification in 1975 when Berlin was in East Germany and Vietnam had an economic relationship with the Soviet bloc. Peter wanted to see Hanoi for himself. His impressions? “Vietnam doesn’t think of itself as a third world country,” he said, impressed with its positive, let’s get on with it attitude.

Truong Tran, the English-speaking manager of a nearby restaurant, Hanoi Fusion, elaborated as we dined sumptuously on stuffed squid and eggplant. Tran was finishing his commerce degree while running the family business. He told us his countrymen were very proud of what they had accomplished since the War ended in 1975. “When they see an opportunity, they take advantage of it,” he said. “The Vietnamese nature is to be happy, cheerful and upbeat,” he continued. “Content but not complacent.”

Hanoi is a city of contrasts. On one hand, we saw leafy boulevards and opulent mansions. Hoan Kiem Lake is literally a sea of tranquility smack dab in the city core. A pagoda, Ngoc Son Temple, sits on an island in the middle of the lake. It’s a peaceful refuge. Turning a corner reveals another side of the metropolis, dense Hanoi with tall, skinny structures fighting for space while thousands of scooters and motorbikes buzz about town.

Walking revealed another facet of Hanoi life; whether it’s conducting business, entertaining friends or eating meals, everything happens on the sidewalk. Hanoi is an outdoor society. It’s also been called “a plastic chair society” because the locals sit on small plastic chairs – the kind you get in toy stores – accompanied by stubby, truncated tables. We passed families cooking the evening meal on curbside braziers while Hanoi youth congregated in the many outdoor cafes, hunched over their smart phones, addicted to western music and fashion.

That entrepreneurial, let’s get on with it attitude came to the fore in the Old Quarter. Sandwiched between Hoan Kiem Lake and the Red River, the Old Quarter is Hanoi’s historic shopping district. Originally it was a maze of 36 streets, each one named after the good or service being offered. The jewellery street sold jewellery; the silk street sold silks. Today the area has expanded to more than 50 streets but Hang Dau, the Street of Shoes, still stands out. “Oh my God,” gushed the teenaged street vendor as my wife and I walked along the Street of Shoes. “It’s embarrassing,” he said as he pointed to my wife’s well-worn sandals. True, the sole looked like it was going to come off and the vendor, who had followed us for half a block with his toolkit in hand, was more than willing to do the repair. Now. At this very moment. And then as suddenly as it began the encounter was over. He flitted away, spying another tourist no doubt, waving us a fond adieu. “Have a nice day” he shouted as he vanished from sight as quickly as he appeared.

We tackled the Military History Museum next. This was the exhibit I was nervous about because I expected a jingoistic diatribe against the United States. The outdoor concourse was filled with captured American warplanes. The centrepiece was an obelisk fashioned out of the wreckage of a B-52 bomber. Was this setting the tone? Suddenly a column of schoolchildren filed past us on their way to an interior gallery. “Hello” they chanted in unison, anxious to practice their English, Vietnam’s second language after the fall of Vietnam’s economic partner, the Soviet Union, in 1991. “Xin chào” we replied in Vietnamese. Inside, homemade weaponry and dioramas showcased Vietnam’s conflict with both France and America. Thankfully, the propaganda was toned down. Instead much was made about homegrown ingenuity and persistence, the point being Vietnam had endured centuries of conflict and it always would.

By week’s end, we had acclimatized to the humidity, the congestion and yes, the people. Leaving the hotel at dawn one day to take advantage of the cool morning air we stumbled into a residential enclave bordering Truc Bach Lake. The community was just getting up. Families were eating their breakfasts on the sidewalk at those ubiquitous stubby tables and plastic chairs. “Hello,” children yelled to us as we passed by. “Xin chào” we replied. We passed a group of men doing morning exercises in the communal park. One man was pulling himself up on parallel bars and I asked him if I could take his picture. He flexed his bicep and gave me a huge smile. Surprisingly, the camera seemed to draw people to us rather than scare them away. A young mother squatting on the stoop of her apartment wanted me to take a picture of her child. Her child, no more than four, formed the peace sign with her fingers. An older child, playing by herself on the sidewalk, followed her example by flashing us the peace sign too.

Hanoi is a young city, half the population is under the age of 35 and as our Vietnamese friend Truong Tran, the manager of the nearby eatery, pointed out his millennial friends are too young to remember the American War. Or to care. The young made us feel welcome. They were open and friendly and curious.

Make no mistake; Vietnam is a one-party state. Dissent is not encouraged. It is not an ideal situation. There’s poverty, pollution and a ramshackle infrastructure but there’s also optimism, enterprise and an easy going give-and-take vibe that, for me, can be illustrated in the simple act of crossing the street. Since there are few controlled crosswalks in Hanoi and the locals don’t stop for pedestrians, getting to the other side required good timing and a stiff resolve. The trick was to look for a break in the traffic and walk slowly and confidently into the stream while looking the driver straight in the eye. It worked. Nobody cared if we were Canadian, American or whatever. Scooters and motorbikes gracefully swerved around us. We had miraculously melded into the rhythm of the street. Mission accomplished; my curiosity had been satisfied and my trepidation squelched.

If You Go:

There are no direct flights from Vancouver to Hanoi. BC travelers must connect through Europe, China, Australia or Indonesia. We travelled from Vancouver to Hong Kong via Cathay Pacific with a connecting flight to Hanoi via Dragonair.

Hanoi is awash in over 500 hotels, from the opulent to the perfunctory. The Hong Ngoc Cochinchine at CDN$55.00 a night came with free Internet and air conditioning. The legendary Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi can be yours for Cdn$400.00; the nearby Hilton Hanoi Opera costs CDN$200.00 a night.

The local currency is expressed in dong. For rapid calculations we reckoned on 20,000 dong to the Canadian dollar. Large 50,000, 500,000 and 1 million dong notes are commonplace.

Vietnamese food is phenomenal, a mixture of French, Thai and Chinese influences tempered with their own unique blend of herbs and spices. A simple, rice noodle soup called pho (pronounced fah) is the staple.

About the author:
John Thomson was trained in television news and current affairs and although his work took him around Canada and the United States, he never made it to Vietnam. It was too far away, too dangerous or too expensive. Now that the country is once again part of the global community he felt it was time to see Vietnam for himself. Mr. Thomson’s current stories, other places and other issues, can be seen on his Woodfall Media page.

Photo credits:

Hanoi street food market by Daderot under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.

All other photos by John Thomson:

• Central Hanoi, Hoan Kiem District
• Ba Dinh Street Vendor
• Ba Dinh Street Cooks
• Old Quarter Street of Shoes
• War Museum Concourse
• Lunchtime in Hanoi

I stood in the silence, trying to decide where the dragon had plunged into the sea. Dawn had barely touched the sky. No other boats were about in the morning mist as mine drifted past islands and craggy cliffs straight from mythology. These came into being when the dragon of the gods, after gouging the mountains with his tail, plummeted into the sea. The foaming waves rushed in to flood the devastation, and when they settled, Halong Bay had been born.

Now the limestone islands and impossible peaks float in a sea of emerald. Later that day I would find a floating village (complete with a school and a bar) hidden among the 3000 islands (or maybe 1500 islands, depending upon your sources). Elsewhere there are forgotten grottos perfect for swimming and snorkeling. Simply cruising past in a small boat is spectacular. Passing the night under the stars is magical.

For a little while I enjoyed having the waters to myself. As we neared the town, however, any sense of the mystical evaporated. Halong Bay is a major tourist hub, filled with a frenzy of people either visiting or making a living from a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The area down by the pier is a typical tourist trap where the usual touts and scam artists compete with over-priced markets for those in a hurry to buy presents for home and give proof of their stay. As all tour boats congregate here, the place is perennially crowded. Even the hotels look dubious, and the restaurants not at all promising.

Yet to discover the true town, I had to be brave and run the gauntlet. Passing through the chaos I wondered if this was where the belly of the dragon had scalded the land. It certainly seems so. Or perhaps his fiery breath so scorched the earth nothing of beauty could grow.

Within some five minutes of walking uphill I came across parts of the town tourists rarely go. Away from the gaudy neon lights and dubious massage parlors the atmosphere rapidly changes. School children rushed by on their way home for lunch while old men sat in cafes, smoking. Bicycles were everywhere, with shops opening straight onto the street. Tiny lanes hid between buildings. Grandmothers sat on their doorstep nursing a baby or two while watching the world pass by. Hairdressers plied their trade on the street, while a few doors away builders were busy at work, hauling bricks and cement to the second floor with an intricate system of ropes, pulleys and buckets (which look remarkably like a stack of flowerpots). Amidst the chaos were small vegetable gardens and rows of herbs growing in pots.

Further up the hill, some half hour from the port, a tiny laneway opened onto the local market, which had been somehow hidden from view despite its size. Once inside it felt totally chaotic, but with a mood completely opposite to the turmoil down by the water. With the stalls run largely by women (for the men are down by the port, scamming tourists), the place is roughly divided into sections: clothes, hardware, household items, fresh fruit and vegetables, then a wet market which stretches forever. The range of seafood is incredible – and largely unrecognizable.

A pair of policemen strolled past; this is, after all a communist country, and their presence is everywhere, always in impeccable uniforms. They chatted to various women at their stalls, and one had a play with my camera, experimenting with all the dials and settings. After taking our photo they vanished among the stalls.

A large covered area served as a food hall – large enough, it seemed, to feed the whole town. With nothing more than a small cooker over a gas burner, and her hair in curlers, a lady deftly prepared some pho (complete with the tiniest, and juiciest limes). Next came some thinly sliced beef stir-fired in a highly spiced sauce. The aromas were simply amazing. While we ate her mother came to visit, bringing the baby. As I nursed the baby the lady in the stall next door made coffee. I was at first dubious when, after making the brew in a small percolator which sat directly above the cup, she thickened the coffee with a dollop of condensed milk. My fears proved ill founded. Perhaps it was the setting, perhaps it was because I hadn’t found a decent coffee since leaving Saigon, but this java proved one of the best I have drunk outside of Italy (or Melbourne). The meal and coffee (for two) cost less than five Aussie dollars.

Nourished and refreshed, we headed back to the water. After all, this is why people come to Halong Bay. The afternoon began in a whirl of noise exploring the islands on a boat about the size of the African Queen, and about as sea-worthy. A trip amongst the islands is a rather crowded affair, but by now I had adapted to the chaos. Standing on the bow, I enjoyed the spectacle as our boat assumed ramming speed to gain prime position at any mooring. With all the boats covered with old tires, the moorings resound to the thuds of collisions, and the creak of wood as the boats jostled among themselves.

The first stop was Thien Cung Grotto – or Palace of Heaven. After climbing some 100 steps, a crowd of us went along a dark tunnel to the cave proper. Some hold this is the actual cave where the dragon sought refuge. It was simply huge. Neon lights of all colors highlighted the various formations: a dragon with a small man riding his back, elsewhere a pair of angel wings. Small rivulets ran down the stones and into vast chasms of nothingness. A dragon could easily live here – as could dwarves or a horde of orcs. There was a perfect cave for Gollum.

Only a few of the islands are habitable, but most are laced with caves and grottos, the result of the limestone slowly leeching away with time. Some are deemed dead, but others are still living – that is, the caves are still evolving as the limestone is eaten away, and stalagmites and stalactites are formed.

I sat in the bow of our boat as it potted among the islands. Each one, it seems, has a name such as Island of The Two Hens or Tea Pot Island. Many caves open straight onto the water as the islands rise straight form the sea to tower over everything, their tops covered with lush vegetation. The Surprise Cave was not discovered until 1901, and was used by the Viet Cong as a hide-out. At Ba Hung Cave, featured in the movie Indochine, a small grotto opens onto a lagoon inside the island, surrounded by walls of steep jungle.

As the sun fell a cool breeze came over the water, and I had the front of the boat to myself. Slowly the protective cocoon I had hid in for the day fell away, and I discovered the true beauty of Halong Bay. The crowds had been left behind, and before me stretched the still waters, empty of everything save the islands. They swirled about me in the rising mist, as if I was slowly traveling back to when the dragon had plunged into the sea, and both myself and Halong Bay were new born.

5 Days 4 Nights Hanoi – Halong Bay – Peaceful Halong Bay Cruise, one of 7 world Wonders

If You Go:

Halong Bay Travel website
Vietnam Tourism
Discover Halong Bay tour operators
Halong Bay Travel
♦ Tours can also be organized from either Saigon or Hanoi.
♦ If staying overnight, chose one of the many boat stays rather than within the town itself.

2 day private guided tour famous Ninh Binh – Halong Bay UNESCO sites

About the author:
Anne Harrison lives with her husband, two children and numerous pets on the Central Coast, NSW. Her jobs include wife, mother, doctor, farmer and local witch doctor – covering anything from delivering alpacas to treating kids who have fallen head first into the washing machine. Her fiction has been published in Australian literary magazines, and has been placed in regional literary competitions. Her non-fiction has been published in medical and travel journals. Her ambition is to be 80 and happy. Her writings are available at anneharrison.com.au and  anneharrison.hubpages.com.

All photos are by Anne Harrison.

Vietnam

by Anne Harrison

Having spent a few years living in the city, Graham Greene’s The Quiet American is in many ways his homage to Saigon. Despite a somber tone colored by the knowledge of what is to come, Greene’s love of Saigon and her people shines throughout the novel.

The Majestic Hotel

The rooftop bar of the Majestic Hotel is a perfect place for sipping a cocktail as evening embraces Saigon. In The Quiet American the place overflowed at all hours of the day with American journalists. Close to the Saigon River, it proved a good spot to watch boat movements and garner knowledge from Vietnamese working in the area. Fowler met a fellow journalist here the night Pyle died.

With its colonial charm and retro style the hotel remains a city landmark, and the rooftop bar offers a quiet corner to overlook the Saigon River. The sounds of the traffic rushing along the streets are blown away by the evening breezes, which in turn bring some refreshing coolness after a day of the tropical heat.

Le Rue Catinat

After dinner I sat and waited for Pyle in my room over the Catinat.”

So opens The Quiet American. The Majestic Hotel stands on the corner of Duong Dong Khoi, formally the Rue Catinat brought so vividly brought to life by Greene. Especially down near the Saigon River, Duong Dong Khoi is a perfect place for an aimless stroll, whether browsing through local art works or loosing oneself in some of the best shopping in Saigon. French can still be heard in the occasional café or restaurant, and many women still wear traditional dress.

Up the street came the lovely fiat figures-the white silk trousers, the long tight jackets in pink and mauve patterns slit up the thigh: I watched them – with the nostalgia I knew I would feel when I had left these regions forever.”

The Rex Hotel

Further along Duong Dong Khoi stands the Rex Hotel. Here the rooftop bar (complete with elephants) overlooks the heart of Saigon; perhaps this is why a bottle of champagne here comes with six waiters. The heavens of the wet season opened just as we sat down, so for an hour or so we had the place – plus waiters – to ourselves. After beginning life as a French garage, during the Vietnam War the Rex Hotel became home to the Press Corps, and probably the CIA. Now it is owned by the Communist Party.

Hotel Continental

I had seen him last September coming across the square towards the bar of the Continental.”

Fowler first spies Pyle at the Hotel Continental, and again this is where Pyle first meets Phuong. Greene lived here for two years (in room 210, a corner suite). The Hotel Continental is just up from the Rex Hotel on Le Loi St. Many journalists stayed here during the Vietnam War; wandering past the designer stores and into the chandeliered reception, I could understand why. The infamous bombing, where so many civilians died but Pyle took great care to ensure no Americans were injured, was close to the hotel, in the Place Gamier, just off the Rue Catinat.

Cholon

In Cholon you were in a different city where work seemed to be just beginning rather than petering out with the daylight.”

Cholon is the world’s largest Chinatown. By the time of The War Against The French (the period in which The Quiet American is set), the place had become a maze of opium dens and brothels. During the Vietnam War an uncountable number of US and foreign troops went AWOL here (many never seen again), and somewhere in the unnamed back streets Fowler met with Mr. Chou.

A Wooden Balcony

A few tree-lined blocks to the north of the Rex Hotel, the Cathedral Notre Dame and the Central Post Office face one another across a small square. Although Fowler was dismissive of the style, the cathedral is quite delightful, with each stone shipped from Marseilles, and the stained glass from Chartres.

I crossed to a café on the far side of the square, and was ushered up some rickety back stairs to a spacious wooden balcony overlooking the chaos of the cathedral square. Ceiling fans from the time of Indochine turned lazily above me. The Vietnamese rolls and papaya salad proved perfect in the heat.

Saigon is full of balconies such as this; Ho Chi Minh beckons be explored, but there is always a quiet place to sit, and ponder the past while time barely moves, drinking strong coffee from tiny cups while dreaming of writing a novel.

If You Go:

The Quiet American by Graeme Greene – essential reading

For dining, try:
♦ Temple Club (29-31 Ton That Thiep St) Once a pilgrim house, it now serves specialties from all over Vietnam
♦ Xu (75 Hai Ba Trung S)t An elegant restaurant near the river
♦ Ciao Bella (11 Dong Khoi St)
♦ Ngon Restaurant, (138 Nam Ky Khoi Nghia, opp Reunification Palace). Sit upstairs on the balcony and sample the local dishes

Don’t miss:
♦ Hoa Binh Noodle Shop or Peace Noodles (7 Lo Chinh Thang St) US troops ate pho downstairs, while upstairs the Viet Cong planned the Tet Offensive
♦ War Remnants Museum (28 Vo Van Tan St) Not for the faint-hearted. Upstairs is a spectacular, although graphic, photography exhibition.
♦ Reunification Palace (106 Nguyen Du St) The Fall of Saigon was cemented by tanks crashing through the gates; they are still on display. Within, little has changed since April 30, 1975

ESSENCE OF SAIGON – PAST AND PRESENT FROM HO CHI MINH CITY

About the author:
Anne Harrison lives with her husband, two children and numerous pets on the Central Coast, NSW. Her jobs include wife, mother, doctor, farmer and local witch doctor – covering anything from delivering alpacas to treating kids who have fallen head first into the washing machine. Her fiction has been published in Australian literary magazines, and has been placed in regional literary competitions. Her non-fiction has been published in medical and travel journals. Her ambition is to be 80 and happy. Her writings are available at anneharrison.com.au and  anneharrison.hubpages.com.

Photo credits:
Majestic Hotel Saigon by trungydang / CC BY
All other photos are by Anne Harrison:
The touch of the French is everywhere
The rooftop bar at the Rex Hotel
Uncle Ho watches all
View of Notre Dame from a balcony

by Barry Truter

It’s January 26th and I’m holed up in the Old Quarter of Hanoi for a week, falling for the city despite the traffic which is killing me – almost! Some cities have one-way and two-way streets; Hanoi has all-way streets. Endless streams of motorbikes weave between cyclists, pedestrians, street vendors and push carts. Buses, trucks and cars wait for no one. There are three rules for crossing the street; 1) walk slowly, 2) don’t stop, and 3) don’t jump back. Just trust that the motorbikes will find their way around you – and they do.

I’ve made my way across Northern Thailand and Laos by train, bus, minivan and riverboat. Now I’m in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam (pop: 90 million), and it’s time for some Hanoi culture. The Vietnamese Women’s Museum has excellent presentations on marriage, birth, family life, women in history, clothing and textiles. I combine it with a trip to the Hang Long Water Puppet Theatre. In a small seated venue a dozen musicians sing and play traditional instruments while wooden puppets dance in a pool of water, artfully synchronized.

Hanoi is a contrast of old and new with some intriguing contradictions. The National Museum is housed in an old colonial building. The 900 year old Temple of Literature was a center of Confucian learning and thought. The French-era Opera House is beautifully appointed … and located opposite the Hanoi stock exchange in a square that includes a Gucci store and the Hanoi Hilton, that’s the hotel, not the prison which is across town.

The French named the prison “Maison Centrale”, the Vietnamese patriots imprisoned by the French called it “The Hell Hole”, the American POWs sarcastically referred to it as the “Hanoi Hilton”. The official name for the prison now turned museum is “Ho Loa”, and its exhibits are predictably disturbing.

Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum is set in an extensive complex that includes the Presidential Palace which he declined to live in, and the modest wood house on stilts in which he spent his final years.

One day I take a break from the city and visit Halong Bay. A UNESCO heritage site, it consists of 2,000 limestone islets dotting the bay. The scenery is breath-taking and the caves on some of the islets even more so.

But Hanoi’s Old Quarter is a source of wonder too – vibrant, vigorous, visceral. Delicious pho (pronounced “fa”) dished up in noodle soup restaurants. Egg coffee served on a balcony overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake. Sidewalk food stalls, bakeries, bars and coffeehouses proliferate. The narrow streets are packed with mini hotels and hostels, family shops, crafts and trades, and small businesses – the never-ending hustle of street life.

The Reunification Express overnight sleeper train takes 33 hours from Hanoi to Saigon (officially Ho Chi Minh City). But I’m breaking journey at a number of stops on the way including Hue, Da Nang (for Hoi An) and Nha Trang. Vietnamese trains are not for the faint-hearted but along with local buses they give one a good insight into common modes of transportation between cities.

Being in Vietnam has brought back memories of the Sixties. In the U.S. the civil rights struggle raged. Externally, the cold war ran hot, and terminology like “fallout shelter” and “intercontinental ballistic missile” entered my lexicon. Cuba was much in the news, and Vietnam starting to be so. Who can forget those searing images of the first Vietnamese monk to commit suicide by self-immolation in protest at the brutality of Nguyen Dinh Diem’s South Vietnam government. That was in 1963 in Saigon. The monk came from a monastery in Hue, and there is a memorial in the Thien Mu pagoda there. In Nha Trang, the Long Son pagoda is dedicated to the Buddhist monks and nuns who died protesting Diem’s repressive regime.

I’ve been curious about the impact of the “Vietnam War” on this country. Vietnamese history cites many wars, not just the one we talk about. There are earlier wars against the Chinese and the Mongols, conflicts between the Nguyen lords of the north and the Champa kingdom of the south, the war of independence against the French (aka First Indochina War), the civil war (aka Second Indochina War or American War) between north and south divided politically by the 1954 Geneva convention and geographically by the 17th parallel, and most recently the 1980’s war against the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.

Ho Chi Minh is still very much revered as the leader of the independence movement. And the communist party he helped found is still firmly in power. But economic policies have changed dramatically since reunification, and the country is very much open for business. However, the wounds of war take long to heal and I sense a difference in attitudes between northerners and southerners especially among the older generation. Forgive but not forget seems to sum it up best.

Reminders of the civil war can be found everywhere. In Hanoi, they are present in all the museums. In Hue, capital of the Nguyen Dynasty, a large national flag flies from the Citadel which dominates the Imperial City and Forbidden Purple Palace. The national flag flew here for 28 days when the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army captured the Citadel during the 1968 Tet offensive.

It’s Tet (lunar new year) again, and the shops are full of red and gold decorations, lanterns, paper money. As I travel north to south from Hanoi to HCM City (Saigon), the preparations and lead-up ceremonies become more prominent. New clothes, presents for the kids, large dinner parties, incense and devotions, and paper money burned on the street.

Hue is near the old DMZ (demilitarized zone). Ironically, this area was the scene of some of the fiercest fighting in the Sixties. Ninety percent of the old walled city was obliterated and is slowly being restored as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Hoi An is a wonderfully historic city, and also a UNESCO World Heritage site. Night lanterns light up the streets of the old town with its Chinese clan houses, pagodas and covered bridges. I stumble upon a house that belonged to one of the early revolutionaries in the city. His grandson proudly shows me photos of grandpa with General Giap, chief architect of the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu, and of the strategy that led to the North’s victory in the civil war.

Hoi An is where I take a cooking class from a hilarious instructor who manages to find bad puns for every ingredient … “sprinkle, sprinkle little salt” … “open sesame seed”. She prompts us as we cook fried spring rolls, sweet and sour chicken soup, green papaya salad, tuna in banana leaf, and aubergine in a claypot. We slice, dice, chop, stir, fry, drink, eat and laugh our way through the class.

Da Nang (near Hoi An) was home to the second largest American air base in the world. Now it’s a thriving port city. A 6.3 kilometre tunnel running through the Annamite Range has made the journey between Hue and Da Nang much safer and faster.

Nha Trang is a sun, sand and sea beach town. It’s predicted to grow exponentially. The Long Son pagoda is full of families praying for good fortune in the new year, and paying their respects to their ancestors. Clouds of incense carry their prayers heavenward past the enormous white Buddha atop the hill overlooking the pagoda. The Tet celebrations culminate in a spectacular fireworks display from barges off the beach. Thousands of people are out to watch, young and old. The beach is vast, and there is much construction in progress. Signs in Russian and English vie for attention.

The train arrives in Saigon at 4 am. If Hanoi is reserved and proud, then Saigon is brash and commercial and in-your-face. But as I wander the streets later that day the city feels deserted. Saigon is normally all hustle-bustle business but the northerners who flock to Saigon for work have gone home for Tet and the city is half empty. Stalls are closed in Ben Thanh market. Businesses in the somewhat grungy Pham Ngu Lao Road have “back in a week” signs up. It’s a welcome respite as Saigon will soon return to its usual traffic mania.

The War Remnants Museum is a potent reminder of the ravages of war. The courtyard has a predictable selection of American tanks, armoured cars, planes. But inside is one of the most powerful exhibits of war photography I have ever seen documenting the effects of napalm, phosphorous bombs, chemical weapons, land mines and artillery shells. An estimated 3 million Vietnamese died in the American War. Two thousand Americans and 300,000 Vietnamese are still listed as missing. During the war, roughly 10% of the country was sprayed with 72 million litres of chemicals, of which 66% was Agent Orange. The dioxides in Agent Orange remain in the soil damaging the health of future generations.

Just northeast of Saigon, the Cu Chi tunnels are fascinating and disturbing. The local villagers initially built family bomb shelters as protection against aerial bombardment and then realized they could make them safer and more effective by linking them into 250 kilometers of tunnels that acted both as a defence and a base for guerrilla operations. I lower myself into a rabbit hole no more than two foot square, place the camouflaged cover over my head, and experience the confining darkness. In another tunnel I crouch-crawl through a section that winds, narrows, descends, and eventually emerges into sunlight 100 metres away. I shudder to think what might have awaited me had I emerged forty-five years ago.

But Vietnam certainly isn’t all looking through the past darkly. If anything it’s the opposite. Today’s Vietnam has an optimism and vibrancy about it. The West may be industrial … the Vietnamese are industrious. And I am truly in awe of the beauty of this country and the resilience of its people.

4-Day Northern Vietnam Tour Including Hanoi, Halong Bay, and Trang An Grottoes

If You Go:

My trip through Vietnam was a combination of solo travel and travel with “Geckos”, a small group, eco-tour company. I left myself lots of solo time in Hanoi and Hue before joining the tour in Hue. I left the tour in Saigon and spent some solo travel time there before crossing Cambodia to Bangkok in Thailand. There are plenty of safe, comfortable and clean 2 and 3 star hotels in Vietnam costing under $50. I recommend traveling by local bus and train if you have the time.

Cu Chi Tunnels Tour – a journey to fierce battlefield in the Vietnam war

About the author:
Barry Truter is a musician and writer based in Vancouver, Canada. He has been a traveller all his life, having lived in India, Hong Kong, Fiji, USA, Pakistan, England and Canada, as well as a spell at sea working on a freighter. His most recent articles have appeared in Vancouver’s The Province newspaper and in the Canadian Folk Music Journal. As a musician, he performs solo and with his band, Fraser Union (www.fraserunion.com).

All photographs by Barry Truter, except #7 by a bystander:
Hanoi traffic is not for the timid
One of two thousand islets scattered around Halong Bay
Time out for a quiet board game by Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi
A gate in the walled Imperial City of Hue
The courtyard of a Chinese clan house in Hoi An
Statue of the Buddha overlooking the Long Son pagoda in Nha Trang
The author emerging from a hideout in the Cu Chi district

by Anna Nguyen Thi Quynh Nga

My friends and I arrived in Sapa at 6am. We gathered our luggage, hoping to catch the morning market. Our friend, May, was waiting for us at the train station. He would be the tour guide for our trip. May is a teacher from Ha Noi, the capital of Vietnam. He had moved to Sapa to teach the children here seven years ago. He was among many other city dwellers who came to Sapa to volunteer and then fell in love with this little town. We would take a cab to Ta Phin village where we would live with a family of the locals for three days.

I looked forward to this wonderful opportunity to experience and the rare tradition of the ‘love market’ in Sapa. However, we were told that by the time we caught a bus to reach the “love market”, it would be 8am and the market would be closed. In Sapa, 8am is considered late, while for many of us from the city it is still sleeping time. So we learned a new lesson right on the first moment in Sapa.

Sapa greeted us with a thick layer of fog. Never before had I seen a whiter shade of green where long rows of trees along the winding road are only half existent behind many layers of fog. Maybe here, because it is so high, the clouds are being mixed up with the scenery. I wondered if this is how it looks like in heaven.

At about noon, the fog subsided. We took a walk around the village. At a playground near where we stayed, there was a swing that was at least 4 times taller that the swings I normally see. You are not supposed to sit on the swing. You have to stand on a small piece of bamboo on the swing and let it swing for at least half a circle back and forth. It must have been at least 10 metres.We had to stand on two long bamboo trees and walk as if the bamboo trees were our feet. Of course we all fell. None took more than two steps successfully. Yet all the children there could do it, they did it very well, swinging in the air every round!

The swing was not the scariest thing we were faced with. We had to cross a bridge to get to the other side of the river. The bridge was made of only one thin bamboo tree. We stepped on the pole and kept ourselves from falling by holding to a rope tied loosely on the trees on two sides of the river.

In Sapa, people have no Internet connection and no telephones at home. Their only social meetng place is at the morning market. Once a week, people come down to the valley from different mountains, bringing along their best products and hoping to exchange for something they lack. People walk instead of driving cars or riding motorcycles. They hardly travel out of the vicinity of their homes except for important occasions. The morning markets have become such precious opportunities for people to meet that it has been known more popularly as the “love market”. Local girls and guys in this central meet-up take the opportunity to express their affection for each other. Girls and guys are shy to show too much intimacy in public, so they express their love through songs. It is said that the water drank from the mountain sweetens the voice of local girls. Through their voice, you will feel the tears, the joys, the tenderness and the passion these lovers give to each other.

There were tasty finger foods along the streets. I was especially impressed by the sight and taste of barbecued eggs. A dozen of eggs were placed on a small oven and hot coal. The shop owner tactfully fanned the oven and turned all eggs equally and quickly without breaking one single egg. After the eggs have turned slightly golden, she stopped fanning the oven, yet still continued to turn the eggs. After another three minutes, the eggs were served, fragrant, steaming hot, rich in flavour and enhanced with layers of crispiness, stickiness and softness from outside in.

On the second day, May took us to a Sapa restaurant. In this restaurant, all customers sat on the floor and gathered around a long bamboo table. Eight of us were served a large hot pot called “Thang Co”. The pot was so large that it looked like a mini bath tub to me. It smelled like Chinese medicine and we were told that this pot was made from one whole big horse, not excluding any part at all. The recipe of this horse steam boat is said to be very good for men. It was served with a vase of wine. It looked exactly like a large vase and was as tall as me sitting up. It had holes for us to put in the straws. We were supposed to use the straws and drink right from the vase/ bottle of wine. The alcohol was very strong and had a mild taste of rice.

The scenery in Sapa is beautiful. Trees stand side by side with a background of mountains and hills. A river flows in the middle of the village. The water is so pure that we could see rocks of different shapes at its bottom. Once in a while, we pass by a stretchy paddy field. These green mini trees are always swinging as if they are following the dancing tune of the flow of wind in the air.

After dinner, we visited a coffee house. The house was made of wood. It was small and looked beautiful among the vastness of natural scenery. People from Sapa are exceptionally friendly. The owner of the coffee house offered to sit with us. Together we sang songs and shared stories of our life. He even asked his son to walk to his neighbour and borrow a guitar for us. After a while, a group of eight became a group of twenty, singing and having fun together. The house become so small for the friendliness that some even stood outside the window and sang along.

In the evenings, we laid our sleeping bags and slept on the second floor of our host’s wooden house. Before we left, I had made friends with their lovely little boy. He was three years old, cute and smart. I taught him to count and he walked with me around their garden. When I left, he cried. At that moment, I wished I could stay there forever.

Three days in Sapa passed like the blink of an eye. On the train back to the city, we missed the town, the friendliness of its people, and the unique peacefulness that nowhere else we would find. We all promised to ourselves we would come back to Sapa one day very soon.

MOUNTAIN AND RICE TERRACE FULL DAY PRIVATE TOUR FROM SAPA

If You Go:

Getting to Sapa

Sapa is 37 kilometers from the town of Lao Cai, Vietnam, a bus ride of about one hour. In order to get to Sapa, you must first get to Lao Cai. You can either go to Lao Cai from Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam or from Kunming, the central city of Yunnan province, China.

From Hanoi, the best way to reach Lao Cai would be to take a night train. The train has bed cabinets and is furnished with air-conditioning. It leaves Hanoi daily at around 9pm and reaches Lao Cai between 5am and 7am.

From Kunming, China, you can take a train to Hekou, which is 500km away and leaves twice daily. From Hekou, it will take you only 5 minutes to cross the border and reach Lao Cai.

2-Night Sapa Tour from Hanoi by Overnight Train

Weather in Sapa

The weather in Sapa is highly seasonal. In summer, the weather will reach about 29°C in June, and in winter, it sometimes snows in the month of December. The rainfall season lasts from May to September, with the highest rainfall in July and August.

The best time to visit Sapa is inthe  spring when the wild flowers blossom and the weather is cool and dry.

The weather in Sapa often varies widely within one single day, with cold weather in the evening and early morning, and warmer weather during the rest of the day.

Accommodation

There are many places for you to stay in Sapa at a reasonable price. Some recommendations include:

Sapa Rooms
18 Fansipan
T: (020) 387 2130; F: (020) 387 2131

Boutique Hotel
41 Fansipan
T: (020) 387 2727; F: (020) 387 2678

Sapa Submit Hotel
Thac Bac, up near the top
T: (020) 387 2545; F: (020) 387 2969

Cat Cat View Hotel
Cat Cat Rd
T: (020) 387 1946; F: (020) 387 1133

Gem Valley View
The road to Cat Cat
T: (0912) 84 9753;

Chau Long Hotel
24 Dong Loi Rd
T: (020) 3871 245; F: (020) 3871 884

About the author:
Anna is a Vietnamese currently residing in Singapore. She has been working as a freelance writer since 2010. Her favorite topics are food and travel.

Photo Credits:
All photographs are by Nam Tran:
1. People in Sapa
2. Sapa
3. Foggy Sapa
4. The Scary Game
5. Thang Co
6. Sapa Scenery
7. Singing Along

Jumping off the Victoria Express train in 5:00am fog at Loa Cai, a Vietnamese border town next to China, is not the most inviting start to the day, but I am here – determined to find the Heavenly Gates near the mountain-top town of Sapa. I dash over to my name-sign held by a smiling guide, half hidden in the darkness. Ting introduces himself and grabs my knapsack. We run through the rain to a waiting van to drive along a narrow, zig-zagging road through the Hoang Lien Mountains which soar barren, 6,000 meters high. Pine trees are few, having being felled for fuel and for hand-built terraces where crops of rice flourish. Wandering water buffalo putter on the road alongside the minority H’mong women and children dressed in traditional blue pants and tunics.

By the time we drive up into Sapa, the sun casts a momentary brilliant gleam over people, in heavy winter jackets, bustling about the market stalls. Sapa is formerly a hill station where the French sought refuge from the summer heat and hurly-burly of the cities. Sapa now is a large commercial city filled with local minority groups, Vietnamese, and tourists.

I wonder, in a soft voice, where the Heavenly Gates are. “Not to worry. Your arrival is auspicious,” Ting says. “The sun shines! Normally fog seeps over everything at this time of year. Maybe this is heaven now.”

Fog. I feel its coolness brush my cheek. I make a wish for continued good weather, as I pull on another layer of clothes for an early morning hike to the village where we will spend the night. The cold pierces my skin as I sling on my knapsack. Ting guides me up and down over a sliver of a rocky, narrow path, under the rhythmic waves of high mountain peaks. Farms of H’mong and Dzao minority peoples, in patchworks of terraced rice fields, surround a golden People’s Committees house standing regally above.

By mid-morning, the sun is intense. Now I rarely look at the scenery – I must focus on the rocky trails. “No falling before I get to the Heavenly Gates” I keep saying. Four hours later I stagger into a Taphin Dzao family’s home. My hosts, Po and Tan, are eager to show me their house before I sit down. It is compact, with four rooms downstairs, and a wooden ladder leading up to the second floor where I am to sleep among the huge bags of rice stored for the winter. Downstairs, two bedrooms, a kitchen with a fire-pit, a large room where a giant television brings news of the world to the two children sitting on the floor in front of huge bags of rice. Po eagerly shows me all the world-wide channels they receive daily from China. The dichotomy between their living conditions and immediate access to world news seems normal to him.

As Tan prepares dinner, she suggests that I sit on the outside porch. Finally, I rest! A continuous stream of Dzao ladies, with hands turned blue from dyeing cloth, engage me in conversation to practice their English and promote their jewelery. Ideas are exchanged, with laughter shared. It feels like heaven on earth here.

I go inside to sit on the floor by the fire-pit in the kitchen to watch the preparations and to talk with the family, Ting, and neighbours who drop in. Here is the centre of entertaining guests. Soon comes an array of foods –garlicy French Fries, egg-rolls, rice from their land, pork and vegetables, carrots shaped into flowers too good to eat. For dessert, the home-made rice liquor appears. Bottle after bottle. We shout in unison with the only English words Tan appears to know at this point of the evening, “Happy New Year. One. Two. Three.” At three, we gulp the fire-laced liquid down. Over and over again. Conversation becomes merry. Finally I stagger up the ladder to my mattress on the floor and snuggle into the arms of immediate sleep, with no thoughts of my divine search.

At sunrise, I waken to absolute quietness. Eventually Tan makes delicious crepes and the noise of eating rouses Ting. I tell him that I’m eager to find the Heavenly Gates to cleanse my soul after last night’s celebration. Rather than a long hike back to Sapa in the brilliant sun, Ting wisely orders a van comes to pick us up by the river flowing through the valley near the farm.

Saba’s large market is in full swing under puffy white clouds when we arrive. Hundreds of minority people, with their colourful costumes indicating their ethnic group, fill the market tables with jewelry, clothes and food. Fruits and vegetable abound. Tables, covered with chunks of meat and inner organs, are poised beside tubs of innocently swimming fish, unaware of their destiny. I dine at the Viet Emotion Café where a chair by the warm fireplace lures me from pursuing the Heavenly Gates today.

Next morning, with hints of fog whispering around the fir trees, we start to climb the thousand steps down to the Muong Hoa Valley. We are to visit the Cat Cat villages on our way to find the Heavenly Gates. In one tiny village, women show me how to dye material blue and Ting plays the ken instrument, which emits a sound like a prehistoric violin. He says men compose individual songs to play on the ken when they court a wife.

On the trail again, we move upwards past black pigs rooting among the grass with chickens, bare-bottomed babies sitting with little brown dogs, and water buffaloes with elegant horns watching us with cold eyes. The steps get steeper as we approach the Bac Falls that feed silvery water into a green-shuttered, power-generating station built long ago by the French. Soon I am pulling out my inhaler as I struggle to breathe. Steps carved out of the mountain’s rock are nearly vertical. The fog suddenly starts to roll down from the peaks and casts a white veil over the pumpkins ripening of the shed roofs on the farms. Strips of ox skin, being stretched thin by the weight of heavy rocks, collect tiny dewdrops.

What goes up must come down. So we do. At the bottom of the other-side of the mountain, two guys with motorbikes motion to us to jump on and ride back to town in the cold, wet fog. They drop us off at Ham Rong Mountain, which has the shape of a Dragon, so Ting says. We skitter up steep, wet rocks and find a collection of orchids, with some in bloom. I am gasping for air when Ting announces we are now near the Gateway to Heaven. I realize once again that life unfolds when you least expect it.

The fog is now so heavy that we are clutching the black porous rocks, that form a tunnel, to find our way forward. When we reach the arched gate of black rocks, the vision of what is beyond is lost in thick, swirling grey clouds. Within a flash, I realize that the search for the heavenly gates is more the reward than what is beyond. I clutch the slippery rocks and walk down the mountain to hot soup in a warm café.

Sapa Morning Tour of Ma Tra Village with Valley Walk

If You Go:

General Information: www.FootprintsVietnam.com is a great website for information about Viet Nam. They provide very well organized and reasonably priced tours for one person to a group. Contact footprint@hn.vnn.vn
Accommodation: In Sapa I stayed in the pleasant, mid-range Hotel Goldsea. There is a range of hotels from the budget, Auberge Hotel to the top end, Victoria Sapa Hotel.
Things to Do: There are many areas to hike, with trekking maps easily available for those who want to go independently. Guides can be arranged at the hotels and home stay accommodations can be booked through Footprints. Markets in Sapa happen every day, but Saturday is the largest one.
Eateries: There’s a wide variety of eateries. Gecko is a French-run restaurant with good food. Viet Emotion is run by a Vietnamese man and has excellent Vietnamese foods, traditional soups, sandwiches, coffee and warm fireplace. Pho soup is particularly revitalizing at the end of a hard day of hiking.
Transportation: To book a train from Hanoi, contact the Railway Booking Office (871 480). Presently, a sleeper ticket between Sapa and Hanoi can be booked only through hotels and agencies in Sapa, but you can book at the station in Hanoi.

Sapa Tours Now Available:

1 day Private tour Sapa Off The Beaten Path trekking start from Sapa
1 day Private tour Sapa trekking Y Linh Ho – Lao Chai – Ta Van (start from Sapa)
2-Day 3-Night Sapa Trek with Homestay Experience

About the author:
Sandra Harper combines two passions: traveling and writing. She has traveled all over the world and written about many of the countries she has visited. She’s the author of two travel books: Traveling the Sun: A Healing Journey In Morocco, Tunisia and Spain and Inside Kenya: Creating Tomorrow.
Contact: sharper7604@shaw.ca

Photographs:
All photos are by Sandra Harper.