5/27/14 - 6/08/14: Hanoi, Vietnam
Cat Ba Island sits off the coast of Northern Vietnam and is a beloved destination for both international and domestic travelers. It supplies ocean views, beachfront fun, and picturesque rocky islets that weave their way through surrounding Ha Long Bay. We decided to take part in this traveler's paradise to enjoy a bit of nature, which we were sorely missing. But first, we had to get there...
From Hanoi we took a taxi to a bus station, a bus to a bus, a bus to a ferry, a ferry to an island where we boarded another bus, and finally we arrived at our hotel. We’d left at 10:15am and arrived in Cat Ba Town at 4:15pm. You may be thinking this sounds too long and exhausting to be worth it, but our panoramic view overlooking Ha Long Bay made it worthwhile. Colorful boats bobbed calmly in the aquamarine water glistening in the evening sun. We fell on our beds and drank in nature’s work of art. By night’s end we’d already booked a day of kayaking out in that beautiful portrait.
Katie and I jerked awake in the night. A tempest had swooped down on the island as we slept, the power of it so strong it shook the building. Wind rattled the windows as water leaked through them. The storm even pierced our subconscious, causing both Katie and I to dream of tsunamis overtaking the island. That’s right, simultaneous tsunami dreams! But not to worry, it wasn’t a premonition. By morning the storm had passed leaving the air damp and dreary, not a tidal wave to be found. The poor weather and a bad night’s sleep convinced us to push our kayaking trip to the following day. Instead we hopped over to our main destination, Cat Ba Sunrise Resort. That may sound fancy, and that’s because it was! It was well beyond our daily budget, but because it was my birthday Katie convinced me to live a little.
Cat Ba Sunrise Resort not only had bellboys willing to carry our luggage, but it had a pool w/ lounges, a beach with umbrellas, and wonderful ocean views. It was a little piece of paradise. Each day I performed the same ritual: eat, swim in the pool, read, shower, eat, nap, walk along the cliffside path, swim in the ocean, read, shower, eat, play billiards, and fall asleep perfectly content. I could’ve lived on that loop for a week straight. Katie was right, living a little felt really, really nice.
Now just because we were in paradise doesn’t mean we weren’t plagued by the usual heat. Yes, the sticky humidity was our constant companion, and by the time we made it to the kayaking office at 8am the next morning we were both soaked in sweat. Since we’ve historically felt poorly at sea, we were both nervous about boarding a boat, but bays are more sheltered and far gentler on sensitive stomachs, so seasickness never took hold. It was a birthday miracle.
A large boat carried us out into the bay. The calm water made for a smooth and comfortable ride. A half hour later we reached a docking station where the kayaks awaited us. We grabbed a kayak for two and pushed out with a group and a guide. Paddling across the still water, our eyes trailed up large karst rock formations sprouting from the surface. Some fat, some thin, some jagged, but all beautiful. We were lazing on a cloud, floating amongst mountaintops.
Our guide led us to a low archway piercing a rock wall. One by one we skimmed underneath, entering a massive grotto enclosed by towering cliffs. We paddled deeper in and joined others in a refreshing dip. I swam around the kayak and tugged it along after me by a rope tied to the front. I flipped onto my back and floated freely, embracing the serenity of the sky above, the cliffs around, the water below. With my ears submerged, I listened to the voice of my own breath mingling with the bubbling water. My connection to the earth clicked back into place, leaving me at peace with my own mortality.
We exited the grotto through the little arch that was now closing with the tide and continued on in our kayaks. Imposing islets poked out of the sea with green bushels of foliage shooting from their crowns. Amongst those floating mountains there were dwellings; buoyed homes and active fish farms littered the bay. Air-filled barrels kept them afloat and old tires protected their edges. Dogs even rushed out, barking at us like we were postmen. Speaking of which, how do they receive their mail? What’s their address, exactly?
Unfortunately, there were more than homes “littering” the water. Much like our experience in Bali, we found the sea was once again a repository for waste. Pools of oily water and bobbing bottles accompanied our tranquil kayaking experience. Because of the ebb and flow of currents the garbage was never spread out but rather gathered into groups, swirling in tight eddies that begged to be scooped up and placed into a dumpster.
According to our guide, the perception seems to be that China is dumping the garbage and it’s flowing down to Vietnam, so why should they clean it up? But just like after a storm, when a neighbor’s trash flies into your yard, cleaning it up quickly improves your way of life. Especially when tourists flock to your yard specifically to enjoy its beauty. (In this analogy you have extremely impressive landscaping.)
Overall I very much enjoyed the experience and the exercise (which was desperately needed). So needed, in fact, that we were both sore and aching by the end of the day. But we soothed ourselves that evening with more decadence. Yes, life at the resort was sweet. But you can’t live on sugar alone, so we bid it adieu and traveled back to Hanoi. But first, we had to get there…
From Cat Ba Sunrise resort we took a bus to a ferry, a ferry to a bus, a bus to a station, and a taxi to our Hanoi hotel. A slight improvement in efficiency but with a deterioration in quality. You see, the A/C didn’t exactly work on the long bus ride. Yes, there was air coming out, but it wasn’t cold by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone was fussing with the vents as though tugging on them would decrease the temperature. We resorted to wetting our bandanas and wrapping them around our heads where they could drip down our midsections and keep us cool. And there we sat, riding on the cusp of misery.
Back in Hanoi, we decided to take in a bit of culture at the Hanoi Opera House. We attended a showcase from Carmen coupled with a series of dances from Stravinsky’s The Firebird. It should be known that I am not an opera aficionado. Quite the opposite. I know very little about opera. Scratch that, I know even less than a little. Carmen is possibly the only opera where I can hear the main theme and say, “That’s from Carmen.” And that, my friends, is the extent of my opera knowledge.
Which is why it was fortuitous they were performing Carmen, of all things. Well, “performing” is maybe too generous a word. The orchestra was seated on stage with the singers walking slowly around them “play-acting” their roles. The woman who played Carmen was a bit of a diva. I have no proof of this, it was just something I sensed, and it made the show more entertaining to imagine it so. The chorus provided the most exuberance with their basic costumes and occasional cheers at appropriate moments. To their credit, they were very into it. They even had some props!
The ballet, unfortunately, was not accompanied by live music. Instead it had pre-recorded music that sounded like an old scratchy record. When the curtain opened both of us immediately zeroed in on a clear plastic cup sitting in the middle of the stage...a stage on the verge of being filled with ballerinas. This cup was no doubt a “prop” from when the Carmen chorus was carousing with drunken cheers. I hope it was worth it, you lushes.
As the performance began, Katie and I were extremely distracted by the cup. It sat inertly amidst jumping, twirling, and lifting, begging for someone to land on it. I can’t remember a thing about the performance as I was completely transfixed by the cup, its motionless form taunting every foot brushing past it. About halfway through the dance a group of ballerinas flitted by, allowing one to nonchalantly bend down and pick it up. And thus the spell was broken. I could finally watch the dance at hand.
I, of course, had never heard of Stravinsky’s The Firebird, but Katie had. She explained that a woman usually portrayed the titular character, whereas in this performance the “firebird” was being played by a man. He was resplendent in red and orange feathers, like a fiery phoenix flying across the stage. I couldn’t quite follow the story, especially since it was only snippets from the ballet, but one particular moment did make an impact. It was when the firebird gave the prince one of his illustrious feathers. The prince proudly tucked it into his belt where it stayed for the rest of the performance swaying from his waist. Yet again I found myself distracted. This time by his giant glowing erection. Too bad the cup was removed from the stage, otherwise I may not have noticed.
In conclusion, our Hanoi opera experience may not have rivaled the Met in quality, but it certainly entertained.
The following day we braved the city and the heat for a walking food tour through the old quarter. Our tour guide was named Miss Moon. She said her last name meant moon in Vietnamese, so she simply went by Miss Moon because it’s easier for foreigners to say. As it turned out, we were the only two people who signed up for the tour, so it ended up being private and extremely fun. We tried more dishes than I could possibly remember, which is why I wrote them down:
Bun Rieu Cua - crab and tofu soup w/ tamarind broth
Bun Cha - BBQ pork soup
Yogurt coconut milk with fruit
Fresh water chestnuts
Fried spring rolls & pillow rolls
A bean curd drink
Black rice noodle soup w/ shrimp and fish
Fresh pineapple
Bia Hoi beer
No-rice noodle w/ fried squid, beef patties, egg strips, green veggies and peanuts
Xoi - savory sticky rice w/ pork and bean
Iced egg coffee
It sounds like a lot right? Well, it was! And it was delicious. We only ate a few bites at every stop to keep our tummies empty enough for all the food sampling. Katie’s favorite was the first dish, bun rieu cua, and mine was the bun cha. Both were filled with flavor and tasted incredibly fresh. It was very hot outside, so hot soup didn’t sound appealing at first, but it was so tasty I didn’t mind at all. And the beer was so cold and light I could actually see myself drinking a full mug (which cost an equivalent of 25 cents, by the way. No wonder we see so many gap year kids drinking their way through South East Asia).
The restaurants we visited were very small, with mini tables and chairs set up in what felt like tiny garages. Everything was Kindergarten size, and that’s not an exaggeration. The plastic stools stood only a foot off the ground. This suited us just fine, but imagine a large strapping Scandinavian with his knees bent up to his head trying to eat a meal in these joints. It wouldn’t be easy.
Miss Moon was an excellent guide. She provided an array of flavors and made sure we were safe the entire time, guiding us across the busy streets while calling out “Sticky rice!” so we would “stick” together. As we explored the old quarter she talked about the businesses and streets, explaining that names can be very literal here. Restaurants often translate to what they sell or where they are. For instance, one restaurant was called “Sticky Rice Banyan Tree” because they sold sticky rice and were located next to a banyan tree. The street names are derived from merchandise sold there nearly 1000 years ago. The street names would start with “Hang,” meaning merchandise, followed by a product such as silk, hats, or shoes. Many vendors sell the same merchandise today.
After 3 hours of walking and eating and talking we parted ways with Miss Moon. The entire experience was sweet and delicious. Just like the egg coffee we drank at the end of our tour, which of course kept me up until 2am, but it was still worth it.
No visit to Hanoi would be complete without the surreal experience of seeing Ho Chi Minh himself. Though “Uncle Ho” died in 1969, their esteemed leader has been preserved for future generations to see. To a westerner like myself, the idea of preserving a physical form indefinitely seems macabre. But Ho Chi Minh is a god-like figure in Vietnam. He’s loved to the point of worship and portrayed as a patriot and champion of the people. It’s not for me to say whether this way of honoring the dead is right or wrong, yet knowing people stand for hours in long lines to see him, quite like those awaiting a Disneyland ride, did feel odd to me. I told Katie they should have a sign saying “1 hour from this point to Ho Chi Minh’s body.”
Luckily, attendance was down due to the rainy weather, so it only took us 30 minutes to enter. Security in the mausoleum mirrored an airport, with both our bags and bodies being scanned. They even took our water. Light dimmed and the air cooled quickly when we entered the altar room where there were no decorations to speak of. Visitors are to remain silent as they make their way to the glass sarcophagus. Despite the somber rules, we felt rushed through, pushed past Ho Chi Minh so quickly we barely saw him “in the flesh.” His appearance was grey and pale with a slightly fabricated air. In truth, he could’ve been a wax figure. I can’t say. We were in and out in less than 60 seconds.
Even though the day was overcast and cooler than usual, the heat was still on. Our walk to the Temple of Literature had us dripping on arrival. Built in 1070, the temple houses the Imperial Academy, which is widely accepted as the first national university in Vietnam. The temple is dedicated to Confucius and had lovely grounds with carefully coiffed hedges. Stone stelae stood on either side of the courtyard etched with names of graduates and supported by giant turtle sculptures. Fun fact: the turtle is one of the 4 national holy creatures and symbolizes longevity.
We saw another turtle at the nearby lake where we booked our final event in Vietnam, a water puppet show. Vietnam is famous for its water puppets, and Hanoi is known to have the best performers in the world. With the box office being by a lake, I assumed the water puppet show would occur on the lake, but I was wrong. That night we were led inside a theater. I felt a tad confused and disappointed. No lake then? But as I watched the show I realized it would be a logistical nightmare to do a performance like that on a lake. Plus, we had air conditioning, so I was not complaining.
Apparently I had a lot of preconceived notions about this show, since I also expected to see puppeteers shrouded in black but visible as they manipulated their puppets. That was not the case. I was surprised to see the set covered in water with an ornate temple backdrop and a short dark curtain stretched across the bottom. The puppeteers worked behind it, invisible to the audience. Their puppets would slide out from the curtain, seemingly floating upon the water, controlled by long bamboo sticks. A band of musicians played to the left of the stage and provided sound effects for the puppet’s activities. They added music to the scenes and sometimes even spoke with the characters. All the dialogue was in Vietnamese, but since it was a series of dances and vignettes the story was more visual than anything.
The puppetry was very impressive, with smooth lifelike motion. You could always tell the activities depicted, such as planting rice, riding buffalo, fishing, swimming, or dancing. And the way the figures interacted with one another was masterful. The puppets crossed and touched, sometimes even catching one another. Considering they were being handled under the water on long poles from behind a curtain, I was astonished they accomplished that level of coordination. The show conveyed a skewed aura of reality, as if we were seeing a village of cartoon people going about their daily lives. I found myself smiling the whole way through, especially when the fisherman in his little round boat was caught in the current with fish jumping over his head. Few things are as adorable as that.
It was a fitting end to our splendid time in Vietnam. As Americans, the name Vietnam is synonymous with a controversial war, but it’s so much more than that. It’s a country rich in culture and delicious food that honors its history while welcoming its future. Katie and I would love to visit it again someday, even if it’s just for one meal. Until then I will be dreaming of fresh spring rolls, delectable crab soup, Vietnamese pancakes, and an egg coffee that will keep me up into the wee hours of the morning.
