Continuing our adventurous transport in Laos, we found ourselves crossing another remote border in an iffy bus that may or may not have been smuggling dozens of sacks of illegal charcoal into Vietnam. After nervously waiting while our passports were taken away for inspection for just a bit too long for comfort, we were finally relieved to hear the clicking of another stamp press as we made our way into the last country on our Southeast Asian itinerary. While Cambodia and Laos contain pockets of serenity and natural beauty between plenty of dusty, arid, and bleak landscapes, Vietnam seemingly contains nothing but lush jungle covering striking mountain landscapes and endless coastline. Colors change from bland to bright seemingly at the border.
After another 12+ hour day of travel, we arrived to my favorite of Vietnamese cities, Hoi An. Colorful walking streets filled with hanging lanterns, tea houses, coffee shops, restaurants, and, of course, the famous tailor shops, make Hoi An tough to top when it comes to charm. Meandering through the pastel alleys in search of homemade banana ice cream, coffee ice cubes, sweet herbal tonics, miniature snacking snails, local noodle and dumpling dishes, daily Banh Mi sandwiches, and historical shophouses, I was pleased to see Hoi An was just as enjoyable as I’d remembered. With the coast nearby, we spent a day lounging on white sands after exploring a few temples built into existing caves in the surrounding mountains. With some new found company from California, we rented bicycles and made our way across the river to a more rural island, with verdant rice fields and palm trees guiding our way through various villages, boat docks, and canals…leisurely exploration at its finest.
The country of Vietnam is much larger than you might imagine, with so many sights to see that one trip, even five trips for that matter, is not enough to enjoy all it has to offer. On my previous motorcycle adventure through the country, I’d skipped the region of Phong Nha, famous for its enormous cave systems, one of which is the largest known in the world. The train ride from the Hoi An area passed over the Hai Van pass, part of the old Demilitarized zone during the war. As if Vietnam hadn’t shown off enough already with its scenery, the slow train ride was nothing short of majestic, carving around and through the mountain range, revealing hidden beaches along the coast and rivers flowing from the mountains above, all with a backdrop of every shade of green you can imagine. The one-hour drive from the train station to our final destination was just as serene, with ominous limestone karsts in the distance and endless green rice fields lining the road and the rivers. Arriving in our bungalow for the evening, we made our way to a bench down by the river and enjoyed a refreshing beer while the fisherman came to shore and the smoke from small fires slowly billowed from the few houses along the opposite river bank. Idyllic to say the least.
We spent the next day in the hands of our trusty hotel owner turned chauffeur as he took us around to 3 of the most famous cave systems in the area. The first cave was the largest, with nearly a mile-long platform leading us deep into the earth. Massive formations growing from both the ceiling and floor, all lit up with different colors to accentuate the mineral rich contents, had us forgetting the reality that we were way further underground than we’d normally be comfortable with. Some ceilings looked as though they were painted in the Vatican, while small pools hidden from light sources looked so dark that I thought they might lead all the way to the center of the earth. It’s possible to follow the cave for 5 miles or so past the wooden platforms, but we opted to save that adventure for another day. The second cave required a zipline over the river to access, and more than our fair share of mud crawling to get through in some places. We were brought to a mud pool of sorts, with the softest mud you can imagine tickling our toes and making for a nice face scrub after months on the road. Overcoming a fear of small spaces, our crew squeezed through the darkness and made our way out of the cave, where an overwater obstacle course lay at our disposal. Rope swings, zip lines, American Ninja Warrior-type ropes courses, you name it. The views upstream and downstream were spectacular, with giant limestone karsts towering over the turquoise water of the river. Paradise found once again. The final stop of the day required a boat ride straight into another enormous cave, with more intricate formations and colorful walls waiting for us. Thinking about the random farmers that happened upon some of these caves had me daydreaming, as I often do, of discovering something which no eyes had ever been laid on until then. Throughout my life, the settings of these faux discoveries have changed from ruins in South America to some crater on the moon to an island on the high seas. Having not yet discovered any new frontier, I am resigned to accept that it’s all about the journey blah blah blah…
After enjoying another evening of smoky serenity on the shore, we decided 3 giant caves were enough and spent the following day back on motorbikes, two this time, to explore the countryside and visit the local hotspots, which did not disappoint. Our morning was spent at “The Duck Stop” where a local family has turned their Aflac white ducks into an obligatory stop for anybody looking to have a hundred ducks follow you around, give you a foot massage with their beaks, and ravenously eat from your hands while you hold them. Nearly the entirety of the 15 minutes with the ducks was spent laughing hysterically at their mannerisms and massaging skills. Further down the rocky dirt road, we found ourselves at another café overlooking the river below, this time fully equipped with a giant tree swing that was definitely safe. For a few dollars, we enjoyed a coffee, laid out on some hammocks, and braved the adventure swing out over the valley below. The ride back across narrow bridges, past a beautiful church, and through winding rice fields brought us to quaint little lunch spot, where a local family whips up everything from scratch (you can pick your chicken while it’s still walking around, if you’d like). The family spoke no English, but had a translated menu to choose from. The genuineness and welcoming environment were yet another reminder as to why I, and many others, are so drawn to this country. Here we were, sitting on low, open air tables next to a field of crops against a mountain backdrop, staring into a bare bones kitchen watching an entire family cook up our meal from items they’d just picked from their farm, smiling and gesturing with us as the sole means of communication between two groups full of gratitude for entirely different, yet intertwined, reasons.
We took a detour for the final leg home, passing along the riverbanks at dusk, waving to the young children outside on their porch, maneuvering our way between cows and water buffalo, catching glimpse after glimpse into homes right as dinner hour had come. By now I was used to seeing families sit down for dinner just inside their open front door, and no longer felt like I was intruding by letting my gaze linger. With each passing wave from families and children, we were invited further and further into a world that we knew was not ours, despite how graciously we were made to belong.