Otherworldly Ha Long Bay

The sky was overcast on the day we arrived at Ha Long Bay after a 4-hour bus ride from Hanoi, but even the gray clouds couldn’t dim the stunning natural beauty of this UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

Nearly 2000 limestone karsts (a topographical feature formed by the dissolution of limestone over millions of years), covered by verdant rainforests, rise in ethereal majesty out of the jade green waters of the bay. The karsts range in size from tiny outcroppings to towering pillars and small islets. 

Ha Long Bay is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. Each day, it receives 10,000 visitors. However, only 200 boats are permitted to stay on the water overnight. Our OAT group eagerly boarded the Bien Ngoc 18, a wooden junk-rigged sailboat built in the antique style. We would be the sole passengers on the vessel for the next 20 hours. 

Our boat, the Bien Ngoc (Sea Pearl) 18

We clearly were not the only boat in the bay!

Up on deck 

We spent the afternoon cruising the bay, marveling at the constantly changing scenic views and taking endless photos. 

After lunch (a multi-course meal that included prawns with ginger and lime, and chicken with passion fruit sauce), we set out in a smaller boat for Sung Sot Cavern, the largest of Ha Long Bay’s grottoes. 

On the hollow islet where the cavern is located, we walked up 721 steps just to reach the cavern entrance. Once inside, we walked through a wonderland of stalagmites, stalactites and other dramatic rock formations. 

The entrance to the cavern up on the side of the karst

The stunning view when we reached the entrance to the cavern

Walking inside the cavern

Red light called attention to the phallic shaped rock formation on the left 

Later, in the afternoon, back on the Bien Ngoc 18, our boat’s chef gave us an impressive demonstration of his knife skills, turning humble vegetables into exquisite flowers and an intricate net. 

A thick carrot became a net that later garnished a dinner dish! 

Dinner was another excellent meal of Vietnamese specialties, highlighted by grilled oysters. The long afternoon hike had left me pleasantly tired and I was ready for bed as soon as I finished dinner. The boat’s cabins were surprisingly spacious and modern, and the beds quite comfortable. The waters in the bay were calm, and the gentle rocking of the boat quickly lulled me to sleep.

The next morning, hoping to see the sun rise over the water, I slipped out of bed early and went up on deck. A silvery haze had settled on the nearby boats and karsts. Although light was gathering in the sky, there was no sign of the sun. I spent a good half hour gazing out in all directions, enjoying the silence and the sensation of being unmoored – not only untethered from the land but disconnected from my own life. This is what I had sought when I planned this trip for the month of February. I needed to put distance between myself and my memories from three years ago. 

As I reflected in the dawn silence of Ha Long Bay, my thoughts inevitably returned to Elliott and the events of February 2016. The sorrow that will never leave my heart seemed transformed into an overflowing sense of gratitude – for the years we shared, for the family we created, and for the joie de vivre Elliott continues to inspire in me, especially here in this place of otherworldly beauty. 

Hanoi: A Closer Look

We got a much more expansive look at Hanoi once our OAT tour began. Under the guidance of our tour leader, An, our group of fourteen set out in cyclos (3-wheeled bicycle rickshaws) for a short ride through the Old Quarter. The streets were relatively quiet because many businesses were still closed for the Tet celebration. 

We then traveled by bus to what must be the number one stop for any government-sanctioned tour group: the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum complex. I’d already seen Uncle Ho’s image on countless occasions in the short time I’d been in Hanoi. It was on red flags, red T-shirts, posters, billboards, on the wall in the hotel lobby – a not so subtle reminder that despite its seemingly thriving capitalist sector, Vietnam is still a Communist country. 

The HCM Mausoleum complex was crowded with local visitors when we arrived. The Soviet-style mausoleum structure, the long row of red flags, and the marching soldiers in their crisp white uniforms attest to Ho’s status as a symbol of the government. On most days, people queue for hours to get a view of his embalmed body, which is returned annually to Russia for maintenance (a face lift, perhaps?) by experts. From what An told us, Ho himself never wanted such adulation. In fact, prior to his death, he left instructions for his cremation. Fortunately for me, the mausoleum was closed on the day of our visit so I didn’t have to deliver a personal greeting to Uncle Ho. 

  

Instead, we strolled the grounds of the complex, and saw the sprawling Presidential Palace, which the French governors of Vietnam occupied for several decades, and the modest traditional “stilt” house where Ho lived from 1958 until his death in 1969. 

Presidential Palace

Ho Chi Minh's stilt house 

Another interesting feature on the grounds of the complex was the One Pillar Pagoda. This small, elegant structure, dating back to the 11^thcentury, rises from a single pillar set in the center of a square lotus pond. It’s a popular pilgrimage site for the mostly Buddhist populace. 

Visitors to the One Pillar Pagoda

One afternoon during our stay in Hanoi, An introduced us to Vietnamese water puppetry, an art form that developed in the rice paddies of the Red River delta over 1000 years ago. In this traditional form of entertainment, the “stage” is a pool of murky water. The puppets have articulated joints and are attached to mechanisms made of string and long metal or bamboo rods. They are manipulated by a hidden puppet master who sits in waist-deep water behind a decorated screen. 

We visited the home workshop of a well-known water puppet maker, who is carrying on a family tradition that goes back for seven generations. He showed us around his cluttered workshop and explained the month-long process of creating a wooden water puppet. Each puppet, which lasts only 3-4 months, is beautifully decorated and unique. Today, water puppets are popular collector’s items in Vietnam.

After we admired the puppets, we saw a performance in the puppet maker’s home theater. The characters in the drama included dragons and water buffaloes as well as figures from Vietnamese folktales. 

At the conclusion of the show, the puppet master came out from behind the backdrop.

In addition to enjoying the show, it was interesting to see the puppet maker’s four-level house, which was typical of the cramped quarters occupied by many Hanoi families. Each floor was a single room. There was a very small kitchen area on the ground level, then the workshop on the next floor, the small theater on the third floor, and finally, a single bedroom for his family of four on the top level. 

And simply walking to and from the water puppet maker’s home was an eye-opening experience. An led us through narrow, twisting alleys where we got a first-hand look at the crowded conditions under which many of Hanoi’s 7.5 million people live. Because of the warm weather, doors that open directly onto the alleys are usually kept open, affording the families very little privacy. We saw people stretched out on low platforms, watching television. Others were sitting down to their evening meal just a few feet away from where we walked. I couldn’t help feeling that I was invading their personal space. 

No privacy in the alleys

I firmly believe that the best way to get to know a new city is to walk, walk and walk. Of course, that wasn’t always easy because of the traffic in Hanoi, but under An’s able direction, the members of our group were quickly learning how to cross the streets safely. He instructed us to stay tightly packed together (like “sticky rice”) and to walk at a slow and steady pace (don’t panic and stop in mid-stream!). Sure enough, his technique seemed to work. My confidence grew daily and I’m amazed that I didn’t witness any pedestrian accidents during our stay. 

Although the urban frenzy of Hanoi was fascinating, I was eager to get a look at the countryside. We made a short trip outside the city to visit the village of Bat Trang, which is known for its ceramic work. In fact, artists from Bat Trang created the nearly 4-mile long colorful mosaic mural that adorns the wall of the Red River dyke system in the heart of Hanoi. This immense public art project was created to celebrate Hanoi’s 1000-year anniversary. It is a sight to behold! 

Bat Trang’s tradition of porcelain and pottery making dates back to the 14^thcentury. We visited a ceramics studio, watched a master ceramic artist at work, and even took a turn at a potter’s wheel. No one created a masterpiece, but we had a lot of fun getting our hands covered with cool, wet clay on a hot day. After we washed up, we toured the market area where the local artists display their wares. Now that I’m back home, I’m reminded of Vietnam when I drink my morning coffee from the mug I purchased in Bat Trang. 

A master ceramic artist 

Making a ceramic mural starts on the floor. 

Finally, I can’t end this post about Hanoi without mentioning the wonderful food. The multi-course restaurant meals we enjoyed there were excellent, and served as a great introduction to Vietnamese cuisine. Aside from being delicious, every dish was presented beautifully. We had spring rolls as a starter course on several occasions. 

Looking back at the menus, I recall some of the memorable dishes: fish rolls with dill, stir-fried duck with basil and herbs, braised eggplant with tofu, mustard greens with snapper soup, grilled fish with galangal and fermented rice, and sticky rice with mango and coconut cream. 

One night, since we were all eager to try some authentic Vietnamese street food, An led us through swarms of people near Hoan Kiem Lake to a modest storefront on a side street where he ordered a bowl of bun ca, fish noodle soup, for each of us. Crouched on low plastic stools at a tiny table, hemmed in by parked motor scooters, we slurped our delicious soup and got a good sense of Hanoi’s bright and bustling nightlife. I should mention that the fish noodle soup cost about the equivalent of $2.50. 

 

Hanoi at night

On our own time, Barbara and I took a cooking class at Apron Up, a restaurant and cooking school in Hanoi’s Old Quarter. Our instructor, a young woman named Nhi, assured us that we’d be able to prepare a full meal, including pho bo(beef noodle soup), fried spring rolls, papaya salad, grilled pork meatballs, and egg coffee. 

Our lesson began with a visit to a nearby market street to shop for ingredients. Nhi told us that city dwellers go to the market twice a day to buy their food, for one meal at a time. As we walked along the market street, we noticed a woman selling eggs of different colors and sizes. According to Nhi, these fertilized eggs are prized for the crunch and texture of bones and feathers inside the shell. The four people in our class unanimously declined to try this delicacy and concentrated on selecting a variety of fresh herbs (shiso, Vietnamese cilantro, coriander, lemon mint, lemon grass), vegetables, noodles, and meat that we needed for our recipes. 

Back in the kitchen, we worked diligently under Nhi’s direction and learned how to make a short-cut phobroth, how to roll rice paper and filling into neatly packaged spring rolls, and how to turn jicama and green papaya into thin shreds. The aromas in the kitchen, from bubbling broth, toasting spices, chopped garlic and lemon grass, were intoxicating. 

Toasting spices for the broth

The little tool for shredding papaya and jicama

Chilis, lemon grass, garlic, ginger, shallots

The freshest herbs and greens 

Noodles and mushrooms 

Frying the spring rolls

Egg coffee

With a little help from some of the school’s kitchen assistants, we were able to sit down to a delicious feast in a little over three hours. I honestly think it was the best Vietnamese meal I’ve ever eaten. The egg coffee, which tasted like a combination of a rich custard and dark coffee, made a perfect dessert. I came home with a recipe booklet and now we’ll have to see if I can recreate the flavors of Vietnam at home.

Our feast!

Hanoi - First Impressions

Hanoi Airport at night, 

bustling with families arriving from overseas

coming back to celebrate Tet, the lunar new year.

They all come bearing gifts, 

enormous boxes that clog the baggage carousel. 

Outside into the darkness

The shock of heat

(after all, it’s winter in DC)

Barbara and I bundled into a taxi

Cruising through the streets of the city

Signs I can’t comprehend, the letters familiar, the words totally foreign

Through my exhaustion, I smile, feeling the thrill of being in a new country.

Cam on, thank you,

Chuc mung nam moi, Happy New Year, 

I practice silently in the back seat of the cab.

At last the silent driver turns onto a quiet street

And halts the car in front of a steep slight of stairs.

I glance up:

Thien Thai Hotel

A warm greeting, our bags are whisked away

Minutes later, in the room that will be 

home away from home for the next five nights

I stretch out on the bed – 

what joy after being cramped in the plane for too many hours. 

I allow myself a deep sigh of satisfaction:

Our adventure has begun!

New Year's banner, right across the street from our hotel

View from our hotel window 

Breakfast time

and the buffet doesn’t disappoint me.

An east-west feast of rice congee, noodles with vegetables, omelettes, miniature pastries, tropical fruits, pho, and more.

The coffee is rich and delicious, filling my mouth with luxuriant flavor.

Thus fortified, Barbara and I grab hats and water bottles, 

and set out to explore Hanoi

No specific destination, just wander through the Old Quarter

and experience the sights, sounds, smells, sensations.

Just steps from our hotel 

Wherever possible, we keep to the pavement,

careful to dodge the ubiquitous street vendors 

and motor scooters parked two or three deep on the sidewalk, 

and trash, so much trash.

Skinny stray dogs sniff for choice morsels. 

Everywhere, people, people and more people, 

some squatting in front of storefronts,

puffing on cigarettes, or just observing the scene. 

Right on the sidewalk, 

women in conical hats tend steaming pots of broth,

which they ladle into large bowls on top of noodles and bits of meat

for morning customers who perch on low plastic stools. 

Chopsticks in hand, they reach for fresh herbs 

to adorn their morning soup.

In crowded Hanoi, 

Life is lived out of doors. 

The smells of frying food blend with the odors of exhaust fumes 

and the aroma of burning incense from the Buddhist temples we pass. 

Inside a Buddhist temple

Traffic roars past, some cars and cycle-rickshaws,

But mostly motor scooters, a driver plus a passenger or two or three,

many sport masks to cover their mouths and noses

Feeble protection from the polluted air.

The scooters weave among cars and pedestrians

with nerve-shattering abandon.

They even drive right onto the sidewalk.

Barbara and I look at each other in disbelief.

Horns blare constantly, adding to the sensory overload.

I’ve heard about scary stories about crossing streets here.

We come to a corner.

It’s time to face the challenge.

I’m pleased to see a traffic light

but not pleased to see that motor scooters ignore the signal.

Waiting for a small group to gather, 

we manage to cross safely.

The seemingly endless traffic rushes on.

We look up and note the “tube” houses, 

four or five stories tall,

their narrow frontage a way to minimize taxation.

Once-elegant older buildings 

show a French influence with their iron balconies, 

others are clearly slapdash new construction.

Red flags with gold stars fly, 

Red T-shirts with pictures of Uncle Ho.

On every street, bundles of tangled wires 

are looped around poles, draped across streets, 

and festoon building façades

adding to the visual cacophony.

Down the side streets

we find shops selling fine silks, lacquerware, paintings, 

as well as cheap souvenirs.

Another turn, and we walk past tubs of live fish, cages of chickens, 

stacks of rice cakes, mounds of unfamiliar fruits and vegetables.

A cloud of steam rises as we near the seller of bao. 

Unable to resist the steamed buns,

I stop and pull out Vietnamese money, 

counting out the thousands of dong.

For less than a dollar, 

I bite into pillowy soft dough and a savory filling. 

  

We reach the northern edge of Hoan Kiem Lake, 

and the maze of the Old Quarter opens up 

into wider streets, larger and more modern buildings. 

Decorations for the Year of the Pig are everywhere.

Celebrating the Year of the Pig at the park around Hoan Kiem Lake 

The city is still in celebration mode,

the Tet holiday lasting a full two weeks. 

Children aren’t in school, and

families dressed in their new clothes are out in force, 

strolling on the path around the lake, 

snapping photos with the pagoda in the background. 

There are so many people, 

it’s like walking around the Tidal Basin in DC 

when the cherry blossoms are in bloom. 

In fact, it seems that cherry trees are blooming here in Hanoi,

just in time for the new year. 

I tower over the slender women, in their brilliantly colored body-skimming ao dai.

While I’m sticking to my T-shirt, 

they seem to be impervious to the heat and humidity.

I chug back some tepid water. 

How I would love some ice cream now!

To escape the crowds, 

we veer off towards broad avenues

hinting of the colonial era

and note the elegant Metropole Hotel,

the neo-classical Opera House,

exclusive designer boutiques –  

clearly another side of Hanoi.

After a few hours

we’re ready to drag our sweaty bodies 

back to the hotel for some air conditioning. 

My first impression of Hanoi?

It isn’t beautiful but it’s alive.

It’s exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.

There’s a palpable energy here in Vietnam’s capital city,

an energy I’ll soon discover characterizes the country as a whole.