As we rolled off the bridge into Vietnam, the towering skyscrapers which had characterized the Chinese cities were replaced by low-rise colonial houses, with verandas and brightly coloured shutters and trailing bougainvillea. Delighted by this new aesthetic, we found ourselves a little hotel, and were shown into our room by a young boy who was keen to practice his English and insisted upon carrying our bags. Inside, the mismatched furniture, multi-coloured sheets and wobbly fan made a welcome change from the sterile hotel rooms we had grown used to in China.
14 years had passed since Harriet was last in Vietnam, and she was desperate to search out those delicious staples of Vietnamese cuisine that she had so enjoyed before: Banh Mi Opla (Egg Baguette) and Caphe Sua Da (Iced condensed milk coffee). Luckily we stumbled upon both within 10 minutes, and settled down happily to some MSG free cuisine. While tea and salt reign supreme in China, in Vietnam coffee and sugar are king, and we were soon high on caffeine and sweetness and feeling incredibly jolly about the rest of our trip.
We spent two laid back days in Mong Cai, while Jonathan did some freelance work and Harriet applied for jobs, before setting off on the road to Halong Bay. This was smooth and, for the most part, quiet, the tranquillity only spoilt by the enormous American-style trucks grinding up and down. Luckily, the drivers were incredibly smiley, and waved and cheered as they gave us a pleasantly wide berth. The landscape was lush and green, with steep hillsides peppered with evergreen forests stretching into the distance.
The only challenge in these first few kilometres was finding something to eat, but around 2pm we finaly spotted a Pho stall and settled down for our first taste of Vietnamese noodle soup. The fresh herbs, lime and chilli tasted incredible, and while the owners and customers were friendly, we were delighted to find that we were no longer an object of any sort of particular interest, nor were there any smart phones in sight.
We spent our first night on the road camping behind some bushes on the edge of a little town. There was a beautiful orange moon and our peace was only disturbed by the sound of a local karaoke bar: a sign we were truly in Vietnam. The next day the sun shone, and we got a little burnt as we followed an increasingly rolling road towards the karst formations of Halong Bay. There we spent two days, swimming in the Bay of Tonkin, taking a boat trip out into the striking rocky outcrops dotted across the turquoise waters, and dabbling in a spot of kayaking through caves and inlets.
We also stuck to our frugal ways by cooking breakfast every morning on our balcony.
All too soon it was time to leave: with only fifteen days on our Vietnam visa, and uncertain about whether we could extend it, we had to carry on to Hanoi. The journey took two days, and we found ourselves cycling through rice paddies which were just starting to turn lime green, as the first shoots pierced the mirror-like waters. The roads were busy and dusty, and the hooting from the trucks proved a little wearing, but overall it was exhilarating cycling. We continued our culinary adventure, sampling pineapple dipped in chilli-salt by the side of the road, feasting on fried rice, and seeking out Vietnamese coffee wherever we could.
Arriving on the outskirts of Hanoi, the traffic increased dramatically, but we were carried along with it and tried not to resist its flow. Before we knew it, we had crossed the Red River and, after negotiating the tiny streets and chaos of the Old Quarter, found our way to our hostel. All seemed well until they informed us that they had no room for our bikes: the first time this had happened in nearly a year of cycling. During a delicious lunch of summer rolls and egg baguettes, we swiftly formulated a new plan, and decided to finally take our bikes in for a service. A beautiful cycle around the West Lake followed, as we headed to the Hanoi Bike Collective. This journey gave us the chance to discover a beautiful and peaceful part of Hanoi dotted with village houses and stalls selling enormous deep-fried prawns, which felt lightyears away from the hectic buzz of the Old Quarter. With our bikes safely stowed away in the shop, we drank mango smoothies and watched the world go by.
All seemed to be going well in our Vietnamese adventure, but as we wandered back from the shop, a pork roll Jonathan had consumed the day before started to make its presence felt. By the time we reached the hostel, he had lost his appetite, and his tummy had decided the pork had to go. He spent the next day and a half in bed in a fairly unhappy state, only broken by Olympian-like dashes to the toilet every 30 minutes. During this time Harriet showed her support by eating for two at the delicious hostel breakfast buffet.
By the weekend, he had recovered enough for us to take a little side trip to Cat Ba Island. Luckily, we had been able to renew our visas, and with an extra two weeks to play with, and various job-related tasks to do, we decided to take a short break on the beautiful beaches of Cat Ba. The sun shone, and the water was warm and clear. One day we hired kayaks and headed out into Lan Ha bay, paddling across the open sea to swim on Monkey Island (watched by its eager-eyed inhabitants who were rather keen on our banana-sandwich lunch.
Back in Hanoi, we dealt with our new working lives. Jonathan had begun a six-month project on hepatitis in Indonesia and was researching policy documents, while Harriet had found some online teaching. This meant that we had to begin to restructure our trip to factor in enough time to work as well as cycle, something we found challenging after a year on the road. These few days in Hanoi were a chance to try to develop a new routine, mixing work with visits to the Women’s Museum, where we learned about the role of women in the Vietnam War, and the Hoa Loa Prison, dubbed the “Hanoi Hilton” by the American POWs incarcerated there. We also found time to sample Bia Hoi, a bargain at 20p per half a pint, while sitting on little stools by the roadside and watching the world go by.
The English language channel in our hotel then provided a continual source of entertainment, as we were now such lightweights that after 2 beers we needed to go and lie down and watch such hard-hitting movies as Pretty Woman and Pitch Perfect 2.
After another 5 days in Hanoi, we were ready to leave, but now Harriet’s tummy had other ideas, and she spent a sweaty day in bed feeling pretty awful. As our hotel was fully booked the following day, we had to set off with Harriet still in a delicate state. However, leaving Hanoi was an experience that would give anyone runny bowels: mopeds and taxis weaved in and out around us, while bicycles laden with all manner of produce, from bicycle tyres to live pigs, threatened to tip over and block our path.
Luckily, the road was entirely flat, and we managed 70 km before stopping in a small hotel/karaoke bar by the side of the road. Our sleep was a little disturbed by the lorries roaring and beeping outside, and the incongruous presence of a woodworm of seemingly gargantuan proportions, which spent the entire night gnawing away at the cupboard in our room.
The next day, we cycled out further into a countryside of rice paddies and karst formations. As we cycled, the suns’ heat increased and we began to sweat in a way we hadn’t experienced since Turkey. The wildlife was also becoming more interesting, with huge spiders and beetles often coming to join us as we rested by the edge of the road.
The paddies were lush and green and flooded with water, reflecting the beautiful rocky landscape around them, but making camping impossible. So, after an exhausting 95km, we were pleased to stumble upon another hotel, albeit with dirty sheets, and a bathroom covered in scum and hair. However, after finding some bread and crisps, we curled up happily for the night, feeling the distance we had covered in our aching limbs.
The next day, those aching limbs had grown worse and a short cycle revealed that Jonathan’s leg was again playing up. We realised that once again we had failed to learn the lessons a year of cycling should have taught us, and had tried to cycle too far, too quickly, after too long a break. A minor existential crisis confronted us, and we wondered if we were again going to be trapped for days in a bizarre town, with nothing to do. And then we finally had an epiphany (brought on by yet another extremely sweet coffee that was beginning to turn our teeth brown). We had spent a year cycling, but with visa deadlines and family and friends to meet along the way, we had got used to cycling as far as we physically could manage. This had been compounded by our experience in China, where we had had to cover around 100km a day to reach the hotels that would except foreigners. We were used to pushing ourselves hard. But now we had no people to meet, and visas had become delightfully extendable. With both of us needing to spend at least two days working a week, we had to slow down and change our mentality. We were no longer just on a cycle tour: we were trying to sustain ourselves, working and travelling by bike in South East Asia. With this in mind, we began to recalculate. Rather than aiming for 85-100km a day, we would aim for 50-60. We would stop for at least 3 days a week to work and sightsee, and give ourselves the freedom to explore in more detail the places we were cycling through.
The first day of this new regime was a revelation. Having set ourselves a target of 50km, we cycled calmly, looking around and feeling like we had the time to engage with the landscape and the people we were passing. The road was hilly, but we knew we had the time to rest our legs, and as we climbed up gently through rice fields and green hills, stopping regularly for drinks and to smile and try to chat with the women working barefoot in the paddies, we kept turning to each other to smile in delight.
Finally, we had worked out how we wanted to do this, and it felt amazing. Our joyous moods were aided by how friendly and smiley everyone around us was. Cycling through small villages filled with wooden thatched houses on stilts, we were greeted by endless cries of ‘Hello’ from the children and adults we passed, and we couldn’t stop beaming at everyone.
That day we found a lovely hotel with a view of the river, arriving at 2pm and spending the afternoon reading and writing. It was heaven.
Our last day in Vietnam was hilly. The road became quieter and quieter, the landscape more jungly, the hills steeper, the weather more humid.
Our 55km target took us all day to complete, and we were exhausted and unfathomably sweaty when we rolled into the border town of Na Meo. This was not our favourite place in Vietnam, but we were delighted when we managed to finally order an entirely vegetarian noodle soup, stuffing ourselves with tofu and egg until we thought we might be sick. Replete, we fell asleep, “readying ourselves” for our 500m cycle to the border the next day. This border proved to be one of the most pleasant of our trip: we were the only people passing through at that time, and after verifying our names, we were stamped out of Vietnam, and stamped into Laos, ready for the next stage of our adventure!