2011

The Vietnam Diaries 2011: August 3rd – Viet Hai & Cat Ba

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It’s 6:00 in the morning. Stop, propaganda time! The nearby propaganda speakers spit out a man’s monotonous words interspersed with high pitched patriotic songs. This continues until almost 7:00 at which point falling asleep is no longer an option. Why? You try sleeping after a musical indoctrination session.

Katka is apparently immune to patriotic brainwashing and sleeps until 8:00, at which point we head out to have breakfast. Afterwards we pack our stuff and settle the bill for our stay with Zoam. Turns out they have it pretty sweet here. We’re charged 120,000 dong per person per each meal excluding drinks, which is easily the most we’ve paid for a single meal in Vietnam.

We’re also charged for the motorbike ride to and from the shore, which is the only realistic way of getting to and from Viet Hai. Well, I guess that’s what happens when you have a local monopoly in the middle of an almost deserted island?

“Come on, buddy, where else are you gonna go?”

We’re driven back to the pier where we hop onto a small motor boat, just like the one that brought us here in the first place. This time around the sea is calmer and it’s a lot sunnier. Katka goes back to her paparazzi mode, snapping picture after picture.

After a bit over an hour we’re back to the pier in Cat Ba. Here we get two motorbike drivers to take us to the creatively named Duc Tuan Hotel, owned by Mr. Tuan (the same guy who really helped us out a few days ago). He offers us a room for 20 dollars on the 4th floor. That’s 10 dollars less than our ultra-basic Viet Hai bungalow and probably home to a lot fewer insects. We take it!

The room looks brand new, has two double beds, air-conditioning, TV and a fridge. Most importantly it offers a fantastic view over the water. Although let’s face it, more time will be spent staring into that damn TV.

“Reality is overrated, human! I am your only true friend!”

We head for the beach, on our way arranging with Mr. Tuan to book a 2 day boat trip to Halong Bay with a sleepover at sea. After a 15 minute walk we find ourselves on one of the smaller Cat Ba beaches which is currently completely empty. We pay 100,000 dong for two benches under an umbrella.

For the next few hours we do the old “swim-read-swim” routine. The weather’s fantastic without any clouds and zero rain (well, those two tend to go hand in hand).

There’s a small group of men whose job it is to fish out any garbage floating in the water. The problem is the inflow of garbage is more than they can handle. Residents of the floating villages seem to discard most of their household trash straight into the water. As soon as the workers get the water relatively clean the waves bring in more trash. This Sisyphusian* cycle continues throughout the day.

*yeah, it’s “sisyphean”, but I like to occasionally make up words that sound weird and funny, so suefy me!

Once the beach starts to slowly get more crowded we decide to find ourselves a tandem bike. There are many tourists and locals riding on these, so why not try it out for ourselves?

Like this, but twice as good!

We find a woman renting out tandem bikes. She sends her son to unlock a bike for us. All bikes are attached to a long metal wire with a lock at the end. In order for the son to reach our tandem bike he has to first pull out a bunch of kids bikes to make space. After that ordeal he pulls out a tandem bike with a flat tire. Then he takes out another one and “tests” it by spinning the wheel once. Satisfied with this thorough examination he hands the bike to us.

As soon as we start to pedal it becomes clear that the bike is living its own life and doesn’t much care about our furious pedalling. Having comically struggled with the bike for a few minutes we return to the guy and ask for another one. This one seems a bit better, but after a minute or two of riding we discover that it’s permanently stuck in the lowest gear. The seats are set too low and cannot be adjusted.

Resolved to goddamn try and enjoy our first tandem bike experience no matter what we stubbornly continue for another 10 minutes. After a tiring and embarrassing uphill ride we finally accept our fate – tandem-bike Gods aren’t smiling upon us today.

Tandem bike Gods?

We return the bike and head to the hotel for a shower and a short break (from all that tiring lounging around). Around dinner time we wander into one of the many floating restaurants found here. The restaurant doubles as home for the family who owns it. While waiting for our food the “waitress” disappears in the shower to wash her hair. There are a few kids running around. Finally, the family of at least ten sits down for a dinner of their own in a nearby room.

We enjoy a delicious meal on the terrace. From here we can see almost the entirety of Cat Ba city. It’s very clear that the city is divided into two distinct sections. One side of the main road is lined with hotels and…well, essentially nothing else. On the other side are scattered numerous by-the-sea cafes and floating restaurants.

Which can almost, but not really, be seen here

The next challenge is to find an ATM to replenish our liquid financial assets for barter facilitation. What? I mean cash, we need cash. This proves surprisingly difficult in a town built exclusively on tourism. The flashy ATM across the street isn’t open. The “ATM” by our hotel is an empty box in the wall. No other ATM in sight.

Giving up on ATM search we decide to find a place that serves alcohol. We haven’t had a proper drink in a while. We stop by Queen’s Cafe (no affiliation with any known royalty), but no booze is to be found here. We order two cold shakes and then continue our booze hunt. Finally we find a restaurant owned by a guy from New Zealand, called Flightless Bird (the restaurant, not the guy).

They have plenty of boozified (refer to “*” above) cocktails and we go absolutely crazy! By that I mean we order literally one cocktail each, after which we decide we’re too tired to continue. We finish up our drinks and make our way home, making a detour in another attempt to find an ATM. We find one inside a building that houses Saigon Bank and Harbour View Hotel.

This concludes our second lazy day in a row. Life’s good.

We’re getting close to the end of the trip. The next day is found here. Remember to visit Katka’s Flickr for some awesome pictures from the trip.

The Vietnam Diaries 2011: August 2nd – Viet Hai

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I wake up briefly at 6:00, thanks to my favourite propaganda speakers mentioned earlier. After listening to the monotonous ramblings of the faceless talker I fall asleep again until 9:30. We wake up to discover that we’re sharing our bungalow with spiders, mosquitoes and other flying and crawling insects. Who needs Cuc Phuong National Park when you can get bitten in the comfort of your own bungalow?

We climb out of the bungalow to have a late breakfast of home-cooked bread and omelette. For the next few hours we just sit outside our hut, reading and enjoying the fresh air. At 12:30 we’re served a lunch of fried shrimps with vegetables, chicken and eggs.

It’s rainy, but we decide that sitting and eating the whole day isn’t exciting enough (I know, what the hell is wrong with us?!). We want to explore the nearby area. Without taking the time to change into trekking-friendly gear we approach Zoam and ask whether there’s anything worth seeing around here. Zoam brings out two walking sticks and points to our shoes, asking whether we’d like to change into something less slippery. We say “no”, because we’re idiots.

Flip Flops: The Ultimate Survival Gear

And so, we embark on our hike dressed in flip-flops and shorts/skirt (guess which one I’m wearing?). Zoam walks us down a narrow path up to a fork where it splits into two. One path will take us to the centre of the village. The other path takes us on an uphill trek – one hour up, one hour down. We pick the trek, because we’re still idiots. Zoam shakes his head, says “good luck” and leaves. That’s…not very encouraging.

As we start out we pass two lone horses standing in a puddle, soaking in the rain. They don’t look like they’re enjoying themselves too much, but hey, maybe they’re masochistic adventure seekers just like us?

For a while the path just leads us through a light forest and a few shallow puddles. We’re quite optimistic about the trip until we suddenly hit a sharp uphill slope. The slope is made up of mainly mud and stones. Do you know what you get when you mix rain with mud? No, you don’t get humans. That requires clay and only God can pull that shit off. What you do get is a very slippery uphill slope.

Like this, minus the car

If you’ve been reading these diaries for a while you now know that Katka and I never change our minds once we’ve made a decision, no matter how wrong that decision has proven to be in retrospect.

Which is why, when faced with a slippery slope while wearing flip flops, we decide to continue our trek. We start climbing, using our walking sticks for support and grabbing tree roots to pull ourselves up.

It appears that the slope, while steep, doesn’t go on for too long. Quite soon we reach the top…only to find out that what we reached isn’t the top at all, but merely one of the many mid-slope plateaus. This “chasing the top” game continues for the next hour, with us reaching what we believe to be the top of the mountain only to discover that the mountain continues beyond that point.

…and that’s how we inadvertently climbed Mount Everest

On our journey we’re accompanied by all sorts of unidentified insects and plenty of long-legged spiders. Katka isn’t too fond of any of these. When I see an especially big spider with thick furry legs jumping quickly between two stones I avoid pointing him out to Katka. If there’s one thing harder than climbing slippery mountains in flip-flops it’s climbing slippery mountains in flip-flops, while carrying your fainted girlfriend on your back.

After an hour of climbing we reach the top of the mountain. The view from here is amazing – one can see all the way over the mountains and to where the karsts rising out of the sea begin. Unfortunately, visibility is severely limited by rain. Also, we’re being viciously attacked by swarms of mosquitoes. We finally decide we’ve had enough of adventures for the day and start heading back down.

The way down proves even trickier than the climb. Mud slides under us and our feet constantly slip out of our flip-flops. The rain intensifies and very soon muddy streams of water are running down under our feet. After a few near-falls and many more swears and curses we make our way back to the bottom of the mountain. We’re sweaty, soaking wet, bitten all over by mosquitoes, but happy to have made it.

At the end of the road we meet the two lonely horses still standing in their puddles. Well, they certainly lead an action-packed life! When we return to the bungalows Zoam looks almost surprised to see us back in one piece. How many tourists that he sent off into the mountains have never returned?

Hmmm, the village does look surprisingly people-free

We retreat to the bungalow to shower and relax until dinner time. For dinner we’re seated with a chatty older Dutch couple from Amsterdam. They’re on a 4 week journey from Saigon to Hanoi. We share our experiences of the country and compare the social systems in Holland and Denmark (because Katka and I, although from Czech Republic and Ukraine originally, are clearly experts on all things Danish).

After dinner we head out for an early sleep. Tomorrow morning we’re heading back to Cat Ba. This concludes our least hectic day of the Vietnam trip.

The journey continues right here. Remember to visit Katka’s Flickr for pictures from the trip.

The Vietnam Diaries 2011: August 1st – Hai Phong, Cat Ba, Viet Hai

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At 6 in the morning I wake to discover that my thumb has gotten even worse. I can barely move it at all. The area around the thumb is swollen and hard to the touch. No obvious signs of a mutant insect trying to eat my hand from the inside, but you never know. After a while, tiredness wins over paranoia and I manage to fall asleep again until 8:30.

For some reason my hand doesn’t get miraculously cured within that time. Katka and I discuss options ranging from buying some anti-allergy pills to going to a hospital. We consult the Lonely Planet and immediately rule out all options. According to the book ingesting any pills sold over the counter is equivalent to suicide. It also advises strongly against Vietnamese public hospitals. Great.

Having received my daily doze of depression from the book I decide to wait and hope the hand gets better with time. We have a quick breakfast. Afterwards the tour guy drives me to the bus station on his scooter. Here I pick up two tickets to Hai Phong. We return to the hotel where I give him a generous tip for all his help during our three day stay in Ninh Binh.

Katka and I leave the hotel and walk to the bus station. Here we find the empty bus waiting for passengers. The doors of the luggage compartment are wide open. We are just about to put our bags inside when a guy materialises out of nowhere (or from inside the bus, I wasn’t paying attention). He shakes his head “no”, grabs our bags and brings them inside the bus instead. Odd, wouldn’t an empty luggage compartment be a good place for, you know, luggage?

“No sir, that’s not luggage, that’s a suitcase!”

There’s a large air conditioning unit at the top of the bus with “Air Conditioner” written on it. However, the unit seems to be just a hollowed out shell that used to contain something before. Our air conditioning will most likely consist of a few open windows. A few men outside the bus are tying small ropes together into thick braids. Hmmm, empty luggage compartment, ropes. Are we getting kidnapped? (Spoiler: we weren’t, because then I probably wouldn’t be writing these diaries).

We leave Ninh Binh shortly before 12:00. Aside from the two drivers and the “luggage” guy we are the only two people on the bus. On our way out of Ninh Binh we pick up a few more passengers at random spots along the road. There are no designated bus stops, people just hail the bus over as it makes its way through the city and hop on.

On the outskirts of Ninh Binh the bus suddenly stops. Both drivers and the luggage guy jump out. The luggage compartment doors swing open. We see the men carry big bags of what looks like wheat, dried grass and seeds inside. Well, that solves the mystery of the inaccessible luggage space. Granted, one of the less nail-biting mysteries in existence.

On the next episode of “What’s that empty space used for?”…

We start driving again, but the bus comes to another stop a few hundred metres down the road. We are now by a wood craftsman’s store. The luggage guy suddenly disappears into one of the open side windows and pulls himself up onto the roof. One of the drivers joins him. The second driver and the shop owner begin passing huge boards of carved wood (most likely parts of a bed and/or wardrobe) to the guys on the roof. The wooden boards fit neatly into the hollowed out air conditioning unit. Another mystery solved.

We leave the shop, but repeat the stop-and-load sequence a few more times at other nearby stores. The pile of wooden boards on the roof is now growing dangerously tall. This is where the braids we’ve seen the men make earlier come into play. They secure the furniture to the roof with a few braids and we set off again.

For the next three hours the following sequence plays out every few minutes:

The bus stops to pick up/drop off some passengers or cargo. Then the driver speeds off like a maniac, honking and swerving through the traffic, overtaking cars and threatening to kill us all in a giant collision. Then he comes to an abrupt halt to drop off or pick up more people and things. We are never on the move for more than five minutes at a time and the whole ride is built around cargo pick up/drop off spots.

Also, every time the bus backs up it plays “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. By the time the trip’s over the tune is stuck in my head and is driving me nuts.

I just can’t get you out of my head! Great, that reminds me of another song. It’s a vicious circle!

Close to the end of the journey the luggage man notices the by now so popular army helmet I bought in Hanoi. He takes out one of his own and shows me that it’s superior by knocking on it and pointing at a star at the front of it. Does that mean the cheap souvenir I bought off of a street vendor is not an actual army helmet? No way!

Finally we come to a stop at a huge parking area with several other buses. The luggage guy grabs our bags and takes them to the exit. He puts them on the ground and says “Hai Phong”. Guess we’re here.

As we step off the bus we’re surrounded by a group of loud and persistent drivers offering taxis and motorbikes to Ben Binh (the pier from which hydrofoils to Cat Ba depart). Since they’re too pushy and their prices are sky high we ignore their offers and walk out onto the main street by the bus station. Here we easily find a cab to take us to Ben Binh for a less insane price.

The driver drops us off between two tour company stands. Before we have a moment to catch our breath a woman from one of the stands runs up to us and unleashes a torrent of words in an attempt to hard-sell us a trip to Cat Ba. She claims that we have missed the early hydrofoils that go directly to Cat Ba Town. The last hydrofoil leaves at 16:00 (it is now 15:40) and can only take us to the western side of the island, from where we have to take a bus to Cat Ba Town.

She quotes a price of 300,000 dong per person, claiming that 150,000 are for the hydrofoil and 150,000 more are for the bus. We have paid 70,000 dong per person for the 3,5 hour trip from Ninh Binh and also know that trips all the way from Hanoi to Cat Ba cost less than 300,000 dong. Katka walks off to talk to the other tour agent. Immediately, the woman jumps up, yells something in Vietnamese to the other tour agent and leads Katka back. Subtle, and not at all suspicious.

“Look, I’m telling you the truth! Just ask anyone! But just don’t, you know, talk to anyone”

By now it’s obvious that she’s a scammer, but the other tour agent refuses to talk to us and the time is running out. We have a bungalow booked and paid for in Viet Hai and we’re at the risk of missing our last hydrofoil. We’re effectively held hostage by the woman (well, minus the constant threat of death). In the end we buy the ridiculously overpriced tickets and go to the hydrofoil. (CONTINUE TO PAGE 2)

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The Vietnam Diaries 2011: July 30th – Cuc Phuong and Kenh Ga

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We wake up at 7:00 and head down for breakfast at 7:50. We’re getting picked up at 8:30 so we should have plenty of time, right? Wrong!

As we enter the restaurant area it’s immediately clear that breakfast management is a complete disaster. There are around 30 tourists here and they all seem exasperated. Three hotel employees are running aimlessly between the tables. These three include the “chi-cken” guy and the “my home” lady from yesterday. They speak ten words of English between them, can’t remember who ordered what, and are acting panicky and helpless.

We go through the familiar process of trying to order fresh milk in Katka’s coffee. I attempt writing the request down on paper and pantomiming cow-milking process (don’t ask). I consider doing a tap dance during which I tap out the request in Morse code, but there’s a good chance that knowledge of Morse code is not in the standard skill-set of a hotel employee.

Plus I’m afraid of getting my limbs hilariously intertwined

Of course all attempts are fruitless and Katka never gets her coffee with regular milk. Half an hour later we haven’t gotten any food and our pick-up is only a few minutes away. When we inquire as to our order the staff ask about our room number again and seem even more confused than they were to begin with, if that’s possible. Other customers are now audibly complaining (and I believe one guy is actually performing an angry tap dance). I start to feel sorry for the staff as it’s very clear that they’re genuinely doing their best.

I’m not a hotel manager, but something tells me that when your employees do not speak English and can’t keep track of what was ordered there are easier ways to arrange for breakfast. How about a buffet with a few simple choices? Your staff doesn’t need to know any foreign languages, tourists can still get some degree of variety and pick out their own dishes – everybody is happy. Hell, you’d improve on today’s service if you simply gave every guest a muffin and told them to shut up and enjoy it.

By the time we’re picked up we’ve only split a small omelet between us, because most of our order doesn’t arrive. We pile into a Jeep with a Spanish couple from Barcelona. Our first destination of the day is the Cuc Phuong National Park.

A place where trees think they’re ropes…

The drive to Cuc Phuong is quite relaxing. Our driver speaks better English than all of the Queen Hotel staff combined and gives us a quick summary of the upcoming trip.

We soon arrive to Cuc Phuong. The park is huge. After passing its main gates we still drive for 20 minutes before our driver drops us off by a narrow stone path. This is the beginning of a 6km walking tour.

It’s raining, but the journey takes place under the cover of trees, so we’re well protected. After a bit of walking and taking pictures we notice a side path that leads to the first official landmark of the tour – the Palace Cave. We follow the side path, climb a few stone stairs and get to the cave itself. Since it’s raining the visibility is quite low and the cave entrance is slippery.

I step inside to explore the cave. Katka tells me to be careful. Just as she’s wrapping up the “careful” part of her sentence I slip, fall down on my ass and slide down into the cave. Classic Daniel. In addition, my fall disturbs a minor colony of wasp-like insects, one of which expresses its disapproval by stinging the thumb of my right hand.

If you ever see this guy, tell him he’s a douchebag!

I’m treated to an emergency disinfectant round by Katka. Once I’m patched up we proceed to the main destination of the trip – the Thousand Year Old Tree.

When we get to the tree we can see that it’s been ambushed by a group of Vietnamese younglings. They’ve climbed over the protective fence and are up on the tree. They’re taking pictures and yelling joyfully. The moral of the story is: you can stand proudly for a thousand years only to have a bunch of loud teenagers stomp on you eventually. We’ve all learned a valuable lesson here today. I’m not sure what it is.

“Those damn kids better get off my lawn!”

We make our way back as the rain intensifies. I’m soaked by the time we get back as I’m the only one not wearing any rain-gear, again. Our driver picks us up and drives us back to the park’s entrance, where we finally have our first proper meal of the day. After lunch we go on a quick tour of the Endangered Primate Rescue Center. We’re accompanied by a local guide who tells us a bit about the different species they have. There are two primary species here – langur and gibbon.

Also: Red Whatchamacallit Long-Arm Dude

Our guide explains the process of caring for the primates, gradually letting them out into the wild and monitoring whether they can adapt. (CONTINUE TO PAGE 2)

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The Vietnam Diaries 2011: July 29th – Ninh Binh

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At 4:30 in the morning we’re woken up by the family on the lower berth. And by “we” I mean the whole train. For some reason the family seems convinced that the lower berth is surrounded by an invisible sound-proof barrier, because they make no attempt at modulating their voices. They’re loudly talking to each other and their kid is banging various objects against the table repeatedly.

At some point the father has a conversation on his mobile phone. He yells into it, because he’s sure that the phone is, by itself, incapable of transmitting human voice. We’ve observed this phenomenon before and I’ve already covered it in an earlier post here.

The family continues their morning ritual of screaming into each other’s faces all the way until they leave the train at 8:00. When the family leaves they smile at the people in the cabin, wave to Katka and I and say “Goodbye” in English joyfully. They’re completely oblivious to the fact that everyone else in the cabin is on the verge of a homicidal rampage.

Even though one of the ninja passengers is clearly challenging them to a fight!

As soon as we get off the train in Ninb Binh we’re ambushed by a crowd of “hotel agents”. In all fairness, calling these guys “hotel agents” is like calling spammers “online offer specialists”. They proceed to ask us whether we’ve already booked a hotel. We have indeed booked a hotel, but this doesn’t stop any of the “agents” from showing us pictures of theirs and describing their benefits.

One of the agents actually claims to be a representative from the Queen Hotel, but only after we mention that we’ve booked it. He offers to “escort” us there. Seeing how the hotel is literally a one minute walk from the train station, we politely decline the offer and make our way there on our own.

The receptionist speaks very poor English. Through a combination of single words and impromptu sign language he requests to see our booking voucher. I have the voucher saved on my laptop. While I’m waiting for the laptop to start up, the receptionist finds my name on his computer. He points happily at the screen and then at me. I nod and give him the thumbs up. He repeats his request to see the voucher, even though he has just confirmed my reservation and he can also see that I’m loading up my laptop.

“Thanks for showing me the passport, now may I also ask for its digital copy?”

I finally show him the screenshot of the reservation and he tells us we can go up to our room. Since we’ve arrived a few hours before official check-in time I’m positively surprised. Wanting to communicate my delight and break the ice I say: “Great, so we can check in already?”. The receptionist arranges his face into a mask of total confusion. He squints his eyes and looks at me blankly, before saying: “Chiii…cken?”.

Really? You’re baffled by “check in”, which incidentally is the phrase written on a sign right next to you, stating check in times? I don’t mean to sound like a complete wise ass, but I’d expect the words “check in” to be pretty standard in the hotel industry. It’s not like I asked him which of Mozart’s symphonies the hotel’s orchestra have in their repertoire (the answer is “none, because Mozart isn’t good Karaoke material). Hearing the words “check in” should be a daily occurrence for a hotel receptionist. Just like hearing the words “more explosions” and “forget character development” should be to anyone working on a Michael Bay movie.

Struggling to keep a smile on my face I say: “We. Can. Get. Our. Room. Now?”. He stops to think for a second. Then, with a patronising expression he points to a young woman employee and says “follow her please”. Wow, he thinks I’m an idiot, purely because his working assumption right now is that I’ve been asking for chicken at a hotel reception. This hotel stay is going to be…interesting.

“Sorry sir, we don’t serve chicken here. Also, you’re a moron…sir”

The young lady takes us up to the 6th floor and lets us into our room. She smiles and, as she swings the door open, says: “Welcome to my home!”. I assume she meant to say “to your home”, seeing how we’re the ones who’ll be staying here for the next few nights. If it is in fact her home, then it really sucks that a non-stop stream of tourists occupies it all year round.

We shower, cover ourselves in layers of soothing lotion (seems we’ve overdone it with the whole beach thing yesterday) and nap until 14:30. After the nap we go down and arrange our trips for the following two days with the hotel’s tour agent. Then we set out to find a post office (something we haven’t succeeded in doing yesterday in Dong Hoi).

Ninh Binh is gloomy, grey, polluted and filled with cars and motorbikes. It has the same industrial vibe of Da Nang, but without Da Nang’s large size and financial attractiveness. However, Ninh Binh is an excellent staging area for small excursions to nearby tourist areas. After a rather long walk through the city we finally find a post office…but it turns out that they don’t sell postcards there.

A post card?! At a post office?! Don’t be ridiculous!

Katka resigns to her fate and decides to go with email postcards instead. On the way back we drop by a supermarket and get more crackers, wet wipes and Yomost (!!!). I’m afraid I have developed a minor addiction to this incredible drink and will display severe withdrawal symptoms upon return to Denmark.

Back at the hotel we visit the 9th floor where, according to the hotel brochure, a Sky Bar with a great view of the city is located. Well, there may indeed be plans to establish a bar here. However, currently the 9th floor offers four bare walls and some clothes drying on stretched out ropes.

We wrap up our unarguably most uneventful day in Vietnam with a visit to the hotel’s restaurant. Here we eat some “check in” and chase it down with a few refreshing yoghurt shakes. We’re asleep by 22:30.

The journey continues right here.

For now, remember to check out Katka’s pictures from the trip on her Flickr page.

The Vietnam Diaries 2011: July 18th – Hanoi

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I am woken up at midnight by Katka shuffling blankets and bed sheets around. Apparently there were some invisible monsters crawling in the bed and she’s on a brave quest to locate and exterminate them. I cannot tell whether this behaviour is the result of some unknown jetlag side-effect or whether there in fact have been some insects in our bed.

Following the unsuccessful search for bed bugs Katka goes back to sleep. I try to do the same, but with less luck. You see, my brain often does this thing where it goes into thinking mode and won’t switch off. If I applied all that brain power for good I would have secured world peace about ten years ago. Unfortunately, the things my brain usually focuses on at such moments are of the “did I remember to pack a toothbrush” and “what’s our ‘to do’ list for tomorrow” variety.

After attempting ineffectual remedies like reading and trying to fix the banned Facebook, I finally fall asleep around five in the morning. I sleep until one in the afternoon. It is too late for the breakfast served downstairs, so we have a quick snack in our room with the complimentary fruit and 3-in-1 coffee provided by the hotel. Then we head downstairs to arrange trips for the next day and do some extended sightseeing.

Upon seeing the receptionist I say “Good morning!”, since my brain has been awake for less than half an hour and it is indeed morning back in Denmark. The receptionist answers with “Good afternoon!” and gives me a wide smile. Schooled in the art of English by the “water poo pet” lady – touché! We arrange with her for one of the pre-packaged trips to the Perfume Pagoda the next day and then head out to explore. Before we step out we’re given an umbrella, which is supposed to protect us from the sun (in Denmark this function is served by layers of rain clouds that don’t go away).

Two-thirds of the Danish population are unable to correctly identify the object in this picture

We have a quick “breakfast” (it’s around two in the afternoon by now) at a cafe full of westerners. Prices are high compared to the rest of Hanoi, but still well below anything we’re used to in Denmark. Here we do some planning for the upcoming days and settle on a three-day trip to Sapa, which is yet another one of the tours organised by Rising Dragon III hotel. We find out that the umbrella is more a burden than anything else, so for the rest of the trip I carry it lodged between the backpack and my back, like a (very ineffective) Samurai sword.

We still don’t know much about Hanoi and the must-see places. Fortunately, Lonely Planet has a ready-made one day tour meant specifically for tourists who spend less time researching their destinations than Kesha spends inventing song lyrics. We decide to follow this tour, which starts at the same Hoan Kiem Lake that we’ve visited the night before. We discover that our traffic navigation skills have already improved dramatically and we make it to the lake faster and with far fewer near-death experiences than yesterday.

In the middle of the lake on a tiny island lies the Ngoc Son Temple, which is built in honour of Tran Hung Dao. According to the first link this guy “defeated a force of 300,000” Mongolians. I assume he had an army to help him achieve this feat. Else he’s the 13th century equivalent of Rambo, only armed with nuclear weapons (and otherwise well equipped, if his “subtle” middle name is anything to go by). The small wooden bridge leading to the island is filled with groups of people pouring in and out of the temple. We take a few pictures of the island from the bridge and decide to skip the temple visit itself for now. Instead we follow our receptionist’s recommendation and head on over to the Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre. Here we get tickets for the next evening, after our planned return from the Perfume Pagoda.

As we leave the ticket booth we are ambushed by a female street seller carrying various fruit on a stick to which two baskets are attached. Before we can say “what the fuck is going on” her hat is on Katka’s head and the stick is thrown over Katka’s shoulder. The woman points towards our camera, while constantly nodding and smiling. I snap a picture of Katka. Then the hat and carrying stick migrate to my head and shoulder. Katka snaps a picture of me. The woman throws some random fruits into a plastic bag, hands it to us and asks for 100,000 dong. I know this is way too much from my extensive online research during the sleepless night before. We end up leaving her with 50,000 dong, bringing the price level from “daylight robbery” to “steeply overcharged”.

Those kiwi fruits better have gold flakes in them! Wait, on second thought, I really hope they don’t!

Katka is on a hunt for some Vietnam-appropriate pants that are comfortable to wear with all the humidity, so we swing by a clothes store. We agree that I’ll be the official price negotiator for this trip, even though haggling isn’t exactly my forte. Katka settles on a pair of Ali Baba Pants and calls me over to negotiate. I apply all of the advanced bargaining techniques I’ve learned from reading stuff. They include going to below half of asking price, pretending to leave, stating that I’ve seen the pants sold cheaper elsewhere and threatening the shop owners with a gun. OK, I didn’t try that last one, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it work in a movie (or ten). To my surprise I manage to bring the price down from the starting 320,000 dong to 150,000 (although I have no clue whether even that price is reasonable). (CONTINUE TO PAGE 2)

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