Reg plays foot-badminton in Ho Chi Minh City

Thursday 28 June


There must be some sort of system for being allocated a taxi at Ho Chi Minh City Station, but we don't know what it is.  There are lots of empty taxis there, and some men who look like porters in blue uniforms, who seem to be matching train passengers to taxis, but for some reason they don't seem to want to know us.  We try to hail one of the empty taxis, but the drivers shake their heads; we've never come across this situation before.  Usually taxi drivers are falling over each other to get us in their taxi.

Finally a driver takes pity on us and takes us, by metered charge, to our hotel.  We know he hasn't overcharged us as we were told by someone on the train roughly how much our taxi should cost.  We've found an honest taxi driver in Saigon!

The hostel is cheap and cheerful, though our welcome isn't anything like the one we got at the Jade Hotel.  However, the staff seem nice; we're on the third floor and we're grateful that there's a lift.  Our room is large, with a double and a single bed in it, a fridge, a kettle, some coffee (no tea, but we have our own supply Lipton's Yellow Teabags) and a ceiling fan as well as airconditioning.  I try to ignore the slightly musty, stale smell emanating from the ensuite bathroom.  The sheets appear clean though have holes in them,

We're hot and tired and hungry; Reg persuades me to leave showering until after we've had something to eat, as a restaurant near our hotel is advertising Irish breakfast, which appears to be similar to the English version, but without the bacon.   There are sausages and baked beans though. And the black tea is in large mugs!

On the way back to the hotel we buy a large rucksack for on the plane.  We are able to reduce the price quite a lot by bartering.

After a rest in our room, we book up a tour to see the Cu Chi tunnels (more in tomorrow's blog), and also book our seats on the 7.00 am bus on  Saturday, which will take us from Saigon to Phnom Pehn, in Cambodia.  The journey will take 6 hours.  We've loved our time in Vietnam, and will be sorry to leave.

We venture out again and decide to browse around the large covered market in Saigon, which sells everything from fruit to jewellery, and handbags to knic-knacks.  It's a busy bustling place, and an extremely hard sell, with many stallholders calling out for us to buy their goods, and one stallholder physically barring my way when I tried to leave her stall!

We stop for a cold drink, and like the look of the restaurant menu, and decide to eat there .  I have delicious Vietnamese pork and shrimp spring rolls dipped in a sauce, while Reg has a fried rice.  On the way back to the hostel, we wander through a large park, where some men and a young girl are playing a game we've never seen before - foot-badminton, using a weighted long-feathered shuttlecock instead of a ball,  Reg is intrigued and we both enjoy watching the game.  Later we come across some women and a man playing this new game, and Reg is itching to join in; he hangs around and they invite him to join.  After a few minutes, he's actually getting quite good at it.

Locked in - on the train!

Wednesday 27 June


I set the alarm for 3.45 am - the taxi's booked for 4.45 am to take us to Hue station, where we will catch the 5.30 am train to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon).  The train journey is scheduled to take 25 hours we are told, arriving in Saigon at about 6.30 am.

The Jade Hotel staff have kindly packed us up a breakfast - they've been really generous and have given us enough for lunch as well - hard boiled eggs and baguettes, salt and pepper in tiny hand-twisted wrappers, bananas and biscuits.  We love that hostel and it's staff, and would thoroughly recommend it to other travellers.

We're really surprised that there's a lot of traffic on the road at 5 o'clock in the morning.  Hue Railway Station is busy with passengers awaiting trains; we spot 2 "Westerners" in the waiting room.  After about 15 minutes our train arrives and Reg and I do our usual trundle to the platform.  Reg wheels along my heavy suitcase and his large rucksack, and I take the 2 smaller rucksacks, the heavy one on my back, and my purple birthday rucksack on my front.  We manage well this way for the time being, but know we have to think about redistributing weight before our flight home.

We're in a 4 berth cabin, but for the 1st time, both Reg and I have top bunks, as these were the only available seats.  Reg is used to climbing up to the top bunk, but I haven't had to do it yet.  As mentioned yesterday, there's no ladder, just a small foot-rest flap  on either side of the cabin door, halfway between the top and bottom bunks.

Luckily we get to the train cabin first, before the bottom bunk passengers, so we quickly wedge our huge suitcase into it's usual place, underneath the window table, in the narrow aisle between the 2 bottom bunks.  Our other luggage fits into the ceiling shelf.

I thought the worst thing about being allocated 2 top bunks would be the fact that I would  have to climb down (and up again) every time I needed to use the loo, especially when I needed to go in the night; also that every time Reg and I wanted a cuppa, one of us would have to get down (and up again) to fetch the boiling water from the corridor, and of course to make the tea.  But no, the worst thing about being on the top bunk is that you are really close to the air-conditioning unit in the ceiling, and it's freezing cold up there - even though the temperature outside is 37 deg c!  Even when I wear my cardigan and Reg's fleece, it still reminds me of the freezing winter's night when I (as youth worker) accompanied our youth group on a sponsored sleepover in the open-air, in aid of a homeless people's charity.  And I was a lot younger then, and more prepared, and really well wrapped up!

As soon as we've organised our luggage we need to get up onto our top bunks, as there's nowhere else for us to sit; unlike when I usually have a bottom bunk, and we can stretch out on opposite ends of that until bedtime, which makes life a lot easier.

I'm not the most agile of people, unlike the Hue boatwoman, and most Vietnamese people "in older age"; they've mostly led very hard, physical lives, and are also used to sitting cross legged on the floor, and coopy-ing down for the toilet, instead of sitting on one.  I contemplate the climb up to the top bunk with apprehension, but hey, the other passengers in our cabin have arrived, and they can't sort themselves and their luggage out unless Reg and I are out of the way.  Also we notice there are 5 of them in this Vietnamese family - Mum, Dad, two young children and Grandma - and they are all going to squash onto the 2 bottom bunks.   I don't think this is strictly allowed but Reg thinks they might have a couple more berths in the next train carriage, but they want to stay together in this one.  There will definitely be no room for us to even make a cuppa very easily down below, let alone stand up in the narrow aisle between the lower bunks.

Facing the cabin door, I am attempting to climb onto the bunk to my right,   I put my right foot on the nearest bunk, and with a gigantic effort, lift myself up, so that my left foot on the left foot-flap; I lift my right foot from the bottom bunk to the right foot flap - so I now have legs astride the door and am wondering how to twist my body around at right angles so that I can put my knee onto the top bunk.  Holding the handle above the right-hand bunk with my left hand, I somehow manouevre my left knee onto the bunk - I did it!  Much to Reg's relief and mine I crawl along the mattress and twist round into a sitting position, watched by the bemused (or amused?) Vietnamese family.

Once I've managed this a few times ( having to get up and down for the loo, and to warm up in the corridor of the train from time to time) I'm getting to be quite a dab-hand at it.

"I won't worry about trying to get at least one bottom bunk in future," says Reg.

"But I'd much rather have a bottom bunk," I plead," it's absolutely freezing up here."  But I'm secretely pleased that I've crossed another hurdle by mastering the art of top-bunk climbing,

The Vietnamese family are with us from the start of our train journey in Hue until about 1 o'clock the following morning; the only person who can communicate with us a little is the mother, who appears very sweet, and is grateful for the wad of tissues I give her when her 4 year old is sick all over one of the bottom bunks.

As soon as the family leave the train, their bottom bunks are filled by an elderly disabled man and another man in his 50's, both Vietnamese.  They chat away loudly for ages in the high-pitched sing-song Vietnamese language, oblivious to (or not concerned about) the fact that Reg and I are trying to sleep.  It's so cold on the top bunk that sleep is virtually impossible anyway,

Soon after our 2 new occupants finally quieten down and go to sleep, I need to descend from my top bunk to go to the toilet.  I hold on for a while, but needs must, and flick on the little light above my bunk before deftly (well, ok, more like an elephant really) climbing down to floor level.  But I can't open the sliding cabin door!  I feel for the door handle but can't find it at all.  After fumbling about for a few minutes I shake Reg gently awake.

"Reg! Sorry but I need the loo and I can't open the door!  I think the handles's missing!"


"Nnnnnn......  whassat?" says Reg in a dozy voice.

I explain again and Reg, bless him, climbs down to investigate.  He can't find the handle either, but eventually he does, on the cabin floor.  But the metal rod has somehow slipped back into the door and there's no way of putting the handle back on, or of turning the metal rod.

"We'll have to bang on to the door," I say.  "We can't stay here until morning.  I need the toilet."


We bang on the door but no-one comes - we stop short of shouting for help.  At this point the Vietnamese man in his 50's who talked loudly for ages while we were trying to get to sleep in the middle of the night, gets up and tries to open the door.  He too realises that the handle has come off and there seems nothing we can do to get out.

Reg is fiddling with the door, and I don't know what he does, but it shoots open, and I'm finally able to go the toilet.

"I know what to do now," says my mechanically minded husband proudly.  "You have to push these two things together to make it open."


In the morning, before we get off the train, which arrives 2 hours late into Hanoi, we show the guard that the door handle has come off.  But he's at the end of his shift and has already changed into his civvies, and isn't really interested.

"If I had a screwdriver I could fix it straight away," Reg says to me.

"It'll take someone getting locked in that cabin in the middle of the night, who doesn't have a "Reg" around who can fix the door, before they do anything,"  I say.

Dragon boats and motorbikes

Tuesday 26 June

We only have one full day in Hue (pronounced Hway), Vietnam, and we have asked our hostel to sign us up for a private tour, which involves a trip on the Perfume River in a dragon boat, visiting some of Hue's ancient monuments,a Vietnamese lunch on the boat, and rides on motorbikes (to take us to the boat in the first place,and then, when the boat docks at the appropriate point on the riverbank, to take us from the boat to the relevant monument).

I haven't been on a motorbike in over 40 years, and the thought of riding on one through the streets of Hue, although probably not as dangerous as riding in Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), fills me with apprehension. Reg and I will ride pillion; the hostel staff smilingly reassure us.

“Don't worry, madam! Motorbike riders very experienced. Will go very slowly!”

My helmet is in place, and I finally manage to straddle the bike and put my feet in the right place. My rider is a woman, and I grip her waist as she hurtles through the Hue traffic, skillfully avoiding pedestrians and other motorbike riders and cyclists who cross her path from the left, right, front and rear, overtaking on the inside and outside. It's only short ride to where the boat is docked, and I'm pleased to see that Reg has arrived in one piece as well.

It's called a dragon boat because the helm is a fierce dragon's head on a long, proud neck. The

helm is shaped so that when the boat needs to land, it can be manoeuvred neck-first on to the grassy riverbank; a wooden pole is then thrust into the bank and the boat tied securely to it.

We thank our motorbike drivers and climb aboard our dragon boat; the boat is owned and worked by an ancient Vietnamese couple. On our boat trip, the husband drives the boat, and the wife does the wooden-pole bit when they land. The couple have probably spent many years living on the river; this way of life seems to fit them like a glove.

The price of our tour today includes everything except any drinks we buy on the boat, and our entrance tickets to the various monuments. Once our dragon boat trip is underway, and we are enjoying the mix of sunshine and river breeze on our faces, the ancient boatwoman ( whose nimbleness and agility amaze us) starts to lay out an array of cheap souvenirs and trinkets on the floor of the boat. It hadn't occurred to us that this would happen; we should have expected it. We will be with this woman for a good few hours, and she is going to make us lunch on the boat; she is already plying us with ice-cold soft drinks at regular intervals, which we don't really mind as it's 37 º c today. But feeling obliged to buy trinkets wasn't in the plan today.

It's psychological warfare here; it's not even a “bartering atmosphere” and the boatwoman is probably charging over the odds. Not only can she manage a boat, she's a shrewd businesswoman as well. And trying to make the best living she can in a country where a large proportion of the population live in poverty, with no escape route.

The softie in us, and a feeling of obligation, makes us buy a few souvenirs; I feel a bit cross, whereas Reg says we've only spent a few pounds and it's par for the course – you just have to accept that these things are going to happen.

Some tourists have told us they don't like Vietnam because of the constant hassle from street vendors;

“Hello madam! You buy from me? Come see my shop, come look in my shop!”

“No thank you. No thank you.”

“Hello, sir! Where you from? I have pineapple for you, you buy lovely pineapple!”

“No thank you. No thank you.”

“Hello madam! Where you from? I have many things for you in my shop!”

“No thank you. No thank you.”

This constant barrage can get to you; Western people are not used to being hassled while they shop. But here it's part of daily life, in a country where there is vast competition in small commerce – many street vendors and small shops selling the same thing.

So far we've mostly managed to avoid buying unwanted items, although once or twice we've relented and bought a couple of small items when a particularly charming and persistent street vendor has approached us while we are eating in an open-air cafe. It's not so much that the only way to get rid of the seller is to buy something; it's more that a sense of guilt and shame washes over us, because we have so much and they work so hard just to eke out a living; and of course that's exactly how they intend to make us feel.

After a long ride down the river, the boat docks on the bank, and 2 different motorcyclists are there to take us “pillion” to our first monument, the “Ming Mang tomb”. What we love about this tomb are the water lilies on the lake, and the peaceful ambience of the place. I hadn't even realised that Vietnam, like China, had emperors and dynasties too.

We notice with all the ancient monuments we see today, that although restoration has taken place, it's not been done in the same way as the restored ancient monuments we saw in China; the Vietnamese ones have been more delicately restored, retaining the look and feel and charm of the original buildings. We only have 40 minutes at this ancient World Heritage site, before we are whisked off again by our motorbike riders; we would have liked to spend more time here. Reg and I are by this time more blasé about being pillion passengers, and really enjoy our ride through bumpy country lanes, to the next heritage site, the “Khai Dinh Tomb”.

The architecture is stunningly ornate, and outside this tomb, as at the previous site, is a small army of stone warriors, to guard the deceased emperor who is buried there. They remind us of the Terracotta Army in Xi'an, except that they weren't buried underground and there are only a few of them. The emperors planned the building of their tombs before their deaths; sometimes the emperor died before completion, in which case his body was moved to the tomb when it was ready.

Our last motorbike excursion for today returns us to the dragon boat, where the boat husband hand-cranks the boat engine to life (Reg says this means they don't need a battery) and we cruise towards our next monument. Eventually, we head towards the shore; the neck of the boat glides up the riverbank, and the boatwoman plunges in the pole.

We can walk to the “Tu Duc Tomb” from the river. The boatwoman tells us lunch will be ready on our return. The Vietnamese lunch is delicious, one of the best meals we've had in this country. We have a feast of traditional Vietnamese spring rolls, which are dipped in sauce, fresh fish, rice, vegetables and quiche – more than we can eat. Afterwards there's a soft yellow fruit we've never eaten before, which tastes a bit like a peach. We can't fault this lovely meal.

After lunch we travel back upriver towards Hue, noticing several water buffalo wallowing in the cool waters near the riverbank, just their heads showing above the surface; the boat stops for us to visit a pagoda, which is again near the river bank. Then we chug towards our last stop where we will leave the boat – the Imperial Palace or “Citadel” - where the emperors lived out their lives, as opposed to where their bodies were put when they died.

We wave goodbye to our dragon boat hosts from the river bank; we've thoroughly enjoyed our boat ride on the Perfume River, even if we have unexpectedly parted with some extra cash.

By the time we reach the Citadel I'm hot and tired and perspiration is sticking my hair to my head and my clothes to my body. Reg is keen to survey the Citadel; it has it's own “Forbidden City” where only the Emperor and his family were allowed. Reg wanders off to look around, while I sit in a shady corner and read my kindle. When he returns, Reg says that a lot of the Citadel has been destroyed, probably in the Vietnam war; it's currently under reconstruction.

After a light early evening meal, we return to the hostel, where the lovely receptionist takes pity on us and offers us ice-cold wet flannels; I feel better already. Then we settle our bill and pack up our luggage, ready for our 25 hour train trip to Ho Chi Minh City tomorrow morning. Our train will leave Hue at 5.30 am, and we both have top bunks, as that's all that was available. There won't be a ladder to the top bunks, just a little flap to put your foot on, halfway between the top and bottom bunks. Reg has climbed up loads of times, but this will be my first attempt.

A special welcome at the Jade Hotel

Monday 25 June


After breakfast, when we check out of the lovely Hoi An Beach Resort and pay our bill, we are given a present each by the staff - a little silk bag for me, and a silk tie for Reg.  I guess they must give these to all the holidaymakers (or maybe just to those who stay for at least a week).  It's a sweet touch.

While waiting in the hotel vestibule for our taxi to take us to Da Nang station we get talking to a man and ask him where he's from.

"I'm Australian," he replies, in a thick non- Australian accent, and what's more, he doesn't look "Australian" (ie he's nothing like all the Australians we've met so far on this trip).  He tells us he lives in Perth and talks about his life there.

"But where did you come from originally?" I can't resist asking.

"From Vietnam.  From Saigon.  I migrated to Austrialia in 1981."


"We're you one of the Vietnamese boat people?" asks Reg.

" Yes," says the man, "Small boat, many people."  And his eyes hold an unfathomable expression - perhaps of sadness and suffering.

"You surely have a story to tell, then," I say; but we have to say goodbye because our taxi has arrived.  Our first encounter, as far as we know, with a Vietnamese "boat person."

Our train, due at 12.00 am is going to be 3 quarters of an hour late and we wait in the hot, stuffy station along with many others - mostly Vietnamese, but a few Westerners too.  Finally we make our way along the platform, where there are at least 15 stalls selling snacks and Vietnamese hot food - including steaming vegetables and cooked chicken, corn on the cob and exotic fruits.

The exterior of the train has seen better days, and, we discover, so has the interior.   It's our first experience of a Vietnamese day train, and we're in an open carriage with seats much like in a British train - except that everything has a very run-down, worn-out look, and the laptrays (mine is broken) are not clean.   I glimpsed the toilet as we boarded the train, and I don't even think about using it.

We're only on the train for about 3 hours though, and the seats are quite comfortable.  We chat for a while to a young Australian couple sitting opposite us who are on holiday in Vietnam; the 4 of us are the only Westerners in the carriage.

There are one or two overhead TV screens in the carriage and soon the Euro England v Italy match is being relaid.  It was on so late last night (1.45 am) that most people probably hadn't had a chance to see it.  Reg did.

On arrival at Hue station, taxi drivers vie for our custom; we'd rather get a metered taxi but none are available.  One driver offers to take us to our hostel for 60,000 dong - £2- so we settle for that.  When we arrive at our hostel (we've discovered that hostels seem to be cheap hotels in Vietnam), as soon as our taxi draws up, a young man comes out of the hotel to help us with our luggage, and a young woman in uniform stands at the hotel door with a beaming smile and a wave.  We are touched by this lovely warm welcome.

Inside the Jade Hotel we are given cold drinks, fruit and ice-cold wet flannels (this happens a lot in Vietnam - very soothing when the temperature outside is 37 deg c).

We are given maps of the town; we ask for a good place to eat, and enquire about places of interest, as we are only in Hue for one day.  Hue was once the ancient capital of Vietnam.  We discuss a river boat trip and before we know it, tomorrow is mapped out for us, with boat and motorbike transport!  I say I haven't been on a motorbike since I was young; the young receptionist assures me we'll have helmets and the bikes will be very safe - Reg and I will ride pillion on separate bikes, I'm relieved to learn; it's not unusual to see 3 people on a motorbike in Vietnam.  I've even seen whole families - 2 adults and 2 children.

Our room is clean and comfortable, adequate for our needs - we try not to compare with the 4-star luxury we've lived in for the past week!  We enjoy a Vietnamese meal (including spring rolls which is a traditional dish) at the restaurant recommended to us by the hostel/hotel staff.  Then we wander along the riverbank, which is lit up with numerous stalls, which comprise the Hue Night Market.  There's cooked food for sale, cheap jewellery, clothes, bags and belts, novelties and trinkets and sunglasses - much as you would find in any Vietnamese streetmarket.

Last day in paradise

Sunday 24 June


It's the last day of our beach holiday.  We've absolutely loved it here - the professionalism and genuine friendliness of the staff, the fabulous breakfast, the bathroom as big as a bedroom, with bath plus overhead shower, plus additional shower cubicle... the massive washbasin area, with all the complimentary shampoos and lotions.  We loved that arrangement of flowers (containing apricot roses) and the bowl of fruit that arrived on the first day, the patio overlooking the lazy river, the comfortable beds, the fast wifi .... the fact that every evening a member of staff rang our doorbbell, and handed us a a rolled up piece of A4 paper and said, "Your Vietnamese story, Madam".  Each piece of paper told a different Vietnamese folk story.

We only ate in the restaurant twice as it was very expensive (just down the road is a local village, with a streetful of very reasonably priced Vietnamese restaurants) - but the hotel restaurant is lovely, because it overlooks the river.  Every evening at 7.30 pm, 3 small boats take to the river, and two people in each boat put candles in coloured containers into the water.  The current spreads the candles out into a myriad of twinkling, magical fairy lights, glowing on the water, until the flow of the river brings the candle holders to rest, one by one, against a wooden barrage on one side of the river, where they are collected by the people in the boats.

We've loved the white sandy private beach, just a few metres from our room, where we are handed towels when we arrive, and where we've sat on sunbeds every afternoon, sipping our Lipton's Yellow Label black tea from our plastic cups, poured from our little thermos flask, and Reg has listened to his music, and read his book, and I've read my kindle ... and we've swum in the warm seawater, watching people go speedboating or paragliding.

Most of all we've enjoyed the warmth of the sun at about 33 -35 deg C (fine when you're on holiday and haven't got to work in it ) with a light warm breeze on the beach, hardly moving the leaves of the palm trees behind us.  We've been grateful for the comfort of air-conditioning in our room, too.

I mentioned earlier in the blog that we were in a beach bungalow - actually I've taken the trouble to look up (I'm the most unobservant person in the world) and realise that our building is 2 storey and there is an apartment above us; but we haven't noticed anyone staying there this week.

I've given this description in case anyone is planning a holiday to Vietnam - for us, it's been the ideal environment.

We have to return to Hoi An town on the shuttle bus on this our last day because we think Reg has left his sunhat and reading glasses in a cafe in the town - actually we find he left them on the shuttle bus!   But it's nice to have one last cappuccino (and Lipton's Yellow Label black tea for Reg) in our favourite cafe/restaurant, called the "Before 'n Now".

We enjoy our beautiful beach for one last afternoon, and in the evening make some phone calls home.  Yesterday we phoned our daughter Elaine and her boyfriend Jake for a catchup; today we phone our son George and his fiancee Marianne, my sister Heather and Reg's brother Geoff and his wife Rose.  My brother Jeremy will be next on the list!!

It's good to hear voices from home; emails are great, but there's nothing like the real thing. We're surprised that the credit left on Reg's phone (about £7), with it's Vietnamese simcard lasts out, with some still to spare.

I pack up my case, aware that we will need to redistribute the weight of our luggage (probably will have to buy another holdall)  if we are to manage the weight restrictions of Quatar airlines when we fly home from Singapore on 27 July.  My weight gauge hook tells me that my case is 2 kilos overweight.  We may even send more stuff home.

We set the alarm on my Orange mobile for 1.45 am (that's all it's useful for, as we haven't had a signal since the Ukraine - it would be too expensive to use anyway).  Why 1.45 am?  Reg wants to watch the England match, and that's the time it's on over here.  I sleep with my eyes covered to block out the flashing of the television screen.  In the morning I'm disappointed to learn that England lost on penalties, even though I'm not really a football fan.

A Dutch family living in India

Friday 22 June


There would be very little to write about today (we don't go into Hoi An in the morning, we don't try on any clothes, we don't go cycling as we'd thought we might, we do go on the beach) - except for the fact that on the shuttle bus to Hoi An Town in the evening, we get talking to a Dutch family who are living in India, and have been for the past 2 years.  The husband has a lot in common with Reg, being an aircraft engineer working for Airbus; and the wife is doing voluntary work, teaching English to children in India.  Their children (a girl aged 18 and a boy aged 15), are at an international school in that country.  The young woman has actually just finished her education and is going home (although they are Dutch, home is in Munich, Germany) to work during a gap year and to apply for university.  The young man has another 2 years of studying to do at the international school in India.

What memories this brought back for me!  I tell the Dutch woman and her daughter (who are sitting behind me in the minibus - Reg is busy in conversation about aero-engines with the Dutch man, and the young lad is politely listening) that over 40 years ago I spent 3 years at an international school in Singapore, from the age of 15 to 18, while my Dad worked out there for the Ministry of Defence.  He was a cog in the wheel which had the task of handing the Naval dockyard over from the British to the Singapore government.

I reflect (though don't mention this) on the wonderful time I had had in Singapore all those years ago, being one of very few Bristish girls out there, and being surrounded by servicemen from the Army, Navy and Royal Marines. I and the females among my classmates were thoroughly spoilt in this environment, and had a big shock awaiting us when we returned to England, where we had a lot more competition at dances and discos!

Things have obviously been very different for the young Dutch woman at an international school in India, but she has one advantage over my situation - she'll be able to keep in touch with her classmates, who like mine came from all over the world, via Facebook.  I am still in touch with just one friend from my Singapore days.

If the cap (er ... I mean dress) fits ......

Thursday 21 June


If Vietnam wasn't so far away from the UK, we would definitely consider returning to the idyllic Hoi An Beach Resort, for a future holiday.  I don't remember whether I've ever stayed in a 4 star hotel before (probably not),  but there's no denying that a little luxury now and then does you good.  One part of us feels strangely guilty about enjoying the opportunity to wallow in this opulence, when a proportion of the poverty-stricken population of Vietnam are living on our doorstep. But it is lovely to live in a luxury environment for a few days, and to have a beautiful white sandy beach, lined with palm trees and with  clear warm waters to swim in, just across the road from our hotel.  It's nice to have padded beach loungers available on this private beach, and to be offered a clean towel when you arrive at the beach; and to put the wet towel in the beach laundry basket after our swim, to be washed by someone else.

There are a couple of families here but not many; it's mostly couples ( a lot around our age, but some younger) who've come seeking relaxation and a break from the busyness of everyday life (or, in our case, a break from travelling!)  I'd be quite happy to return here knowing that warmth and sunshine are practically guaranteed, although storms are not unknown at this time of year.

We have a good breakfast, hoping this will keep us going until our evening meal (with perhaps a few crisps on the beach in the afternoon).  Then it's our daily "clothing" trip into Hoi An, on the shuttle bus.

First stop is the dress fitting. The seamstress and  Reg enjoy a bit of a repartee while I try on my dress.  I thought she'd given up on trying to persuade Reg to buy a suit.

"It'll make you look beautiful," she tells Reg.  "You can't have your wife in a new dress and you in an old suit."


"But I don't want to look beautiful, " quips Reg, grinning from ear to ear.

"Handsome! I mean handsome!" laughs the woman.  She can see she's met her match in Reg, and that she isn't getting anywhere (Sorry, Kirsty, we tried).

My dress fits beautifully; we settle our bill and I tell the woman that I will recommend her on Trip Advisor.  We then go to collect my trousers, which are also ready .. all in all we've had a successful morning.  We head for the cafe we went to on Tuesday, on our first visit to Hoi An town, where we know we'll get a great cappuccino and a big mug of steaming hot black tea for Reg.

In the afternoon we enjoy a couple of hours on the beach and in the sea  - Reg comes swimming yet again!  In the sea I get talking to an Australian woman who's just arrived at the resort.  There are a lot of Australians here; we are told that it's cheaper for Australians to come to Vietnam than for them to holiday in Australia.

The woman asks me if I can recommend a tailor in Hoi An.  After  our swim I pop back to our bungalow and get the business card of the tailors we used to make my dress - I also bring the dress to show her.  She's impressed.

We really like our little cafe where we had coffee this morning and decide to try it for our evening meal.    This means yet another trip into Hoi An on the shuttle bus but it turns out to be worth it.  We enjoy a delicious meal in the upstairs restaurant overlooking the street.

There's a tailors shop opposite the restaurant; from our vantage point we have a clear view of the room above the tailors, where a young man is busy at a sewing machine, making someone's outfit for a fitting the next day.

Reg swims in the sea!

Wednesday 20 June


This morning we return to Hoi An town for my dress fitting, in the 1st tailors, and my trousers fitting, in the 2nd tailors. We see from a notice outside the 1st shop that it has been highly  recommended on Trip Advisor.

My dress is beautifully made, fully lined, and all the seam edges have been stitched too,  However, it's slightly too tight for me around my midriff.  The rest of the dress is perfect.  The seamstress says no problem, it will be altered for me by tomorrow.  I have to say Reg is very patient and tolerant of this clothes-making/fitting/buying process, which means that, including tomorrow, he will have had to come into Hoi An town on 3 mornings running.

In the 2nd shop, my 2 pairs of purple trousers are ready for me to try, and I love everything about them - the fit, the colour, and the slightly stretchy denim-thickness material.  The cost is really reasonable; cheaper than I could buy them in England.  The trousers need to be finished off and will be ready for me to collect tomorrow morning.

Reg and I catch the shuttle bus back to our hotel and are soon on our loungers on the beach.  It's about 33ºc and Reg says he'll come in the sea!  We both enjoy a swim in the warm, clear water, and really appreciate this opportunity to relax, read and swim in a tranquil environment.

In the evening we walk to a local restaurant and eat freshly caught fish, king prawns and I try a clam (I don't like it much - it must be an acquired taste). We decide that tomorrow evening we'll be proper tourists and go into Hoi An town for a different menu.

But first, tomorrow morning, we'll be returning to Hoi An for the 2nd dress fitting.  At least the seamstresses have given up on trying to sell Reg a suit, even though he's had an email from our daughter Elaine's friend Kirsty trying to persuade him to buy a new suit for her wedding in October!

A trip to Hoi An town

Tuesday 19 June


The breakfast here is really good - buffet style, with cereals, juices, fruits, yoghurts, meats, including bacon! and eggs cooked to order.  This meal should set us up for the rest of the day.

We catch the hotel shuttle bus into Hoi An town at 10.30 am.  We like Hoi An; it's a small town rather than a city and there are only a few motorbikes on the streets.  As mentioned previously, Hoi An is a centre for having clothes made-to-measure in a very short time, and we've been given a couple of business cards from fellow travellers of recommended tailors/seamstresses.

We stop for a cappuccino (and black tea for Reg), then consult our map - our tailors' shops are at the far end, rather than in the centre of the town.  A man is mending shoes on the pavement, and people go by on bicycles or mopeds often carrying heavy loads of building materials, huge wads of banana leaves, or even a  billowing mass of multi-coloured, muiti-shaped balloons.  How does the cyclist see where she is going?  Women in the familiar conical straw hats carry 2 baskets of fruit or other wares, at either end of a pole which they balance on their shoulders.

We can't help  noticing that we are part of a society of "have's" in this world.  We have enough of everything; most of these people eke out a living in the best way they can.  As we walk past the open- fronted shops, everyone pleads with us to "come and see".  It's hard to do shopping in this way when you are used to the Western way of shopping, of things being at a fixed price and no-one harrassing you as you browse around. Here though, competition is fierce; there are lots of shops selling similar wares - bags, jewellery, trinkets - and everyone wants you to buy from them, not from next door.

We find the first tailor and tell the lady she's been recommended to us.  I see some material I like and we negotiate a price, though I'm not much good at bargaining; the price for a cotton dress, made to my design and fully-lined, including my chosen material, seems fair to me.  There's quite a lot of material involved, and I think this is a good price.  The woman measures me up; she tries of course to persuade me to order more than one item, and to get Reg to order a suit.  Reg declines good-humouredly.  I knew she wouldn't get very far in that quarter.

The shop doesn't have the colour of material I want for trousers (purple, of course) so we leave those.  I have to return for my dress fitting tomorrow.  We are aware that the clothes are made elsewhere, by many busy seamstresses/tailors.  The whole ethos of the dressmaking culture here is to have the item(s) ready for a fitting the next day.  It doesn't matter whether you order one dress or 20 - it/they will be ready for you to try the following day.  Even if you ordered 100 - there are enough skilled people waiting in the wings to fulfil your order.

We go to the 2nd tailor/seamstress recommended to us - she's just around the corner from the first shop. She has the right material for my trousers and I order 2 pairs.  She measures up from a pair of trousers I've brought with me that fit me well.  I find it hard to buy trousers to fit at home because of my big knees - well, big legs in general!!

This seamstress can't persuade Reg to have a suit made either.  As usual, we have to return for a fitting tomorrow.  I think Reg is resigned to spending a few mornings this week in Hoi An town.

In the afternoon we rest and potter down to the beach and I swim in a clear, warm sea, while Reg enjoys his music on the lounger.  Reg says he might go swimming tomorrow!  He is a strong swimmer but hasn't been in the sea for years, as he only likes swimming in warm waters!

We walk to the nearby local village in the evening and have freshly-caught fish for dinner,  A simple meal, but delicious.

A touch of luxury

Monday 18 June


When planning our trip, Reg decided that we would need a week of relaxation after we'd been travelling for 2 months, and booked us 7 days in a  beautiful hotel in Hoi An, Vietnam. People laugh when we say we're having a week's holiday; as far as they are concerned, our whole trip is a holiday, and of course it is.  But after moving from hostel to hostel every few days, it will be good to stay in one place for a whole week.

We share a taxi from Da Nang train station to Hoi An with a Australian backpacker in his 40's; and for once, we aren't ripped off, and pay what we know (from fellow tourists) is a reasonable price.

Our hotel is called the Hoi An Beach Resort; it's situated where the river meets the sea.  The hotel has a private beach with soft white sand and palm trees, padded loungers under thatched-conical roofed umbrellas, and a secluded beach bar.  Beach towels are provided for hotel residents.

I know this place is special when we step into the huge hotel foyer, where a magnificent display of flowers dominates the entrance hall, and 3 smartly dressed receptionists greet us from behind a long polished counter.  We have our own bungalow, and are driven by beach buggy with our luggage the 50 metres or so to our front door.

The bathroom is a big as most double rooms we've stayed in; and there's a bath!  I immediately turn on the taps, add a generous squirt of bath foam (in a ceramic holder by the washbasin) and anticipate the joyful bliss of being able to luxuriate in a bath after 2 months without one.  (We have had showers, though!)

The huge bedroom has one double and one small double bed (useful for when Reg wants to watch England play in the Euros at 1.30 am our time, and I want to sleep!).  There's lots of lovely furniture including a wardrobe (when did I last have time to use a wardrobe even if there had been one), and patio doors opening to a balcony, with loungers and a table, overlooking the river.  This really is stunning.

There's a fridge packed with drinks and goodies ( a bit more expensive than in the shops).  We've only been in our room a short while when there's a ring at the door and a "bellboy" delivers a beautiful arrangement of apricot roses and white carnations, compliments of the hotel.

We have lunch and dinner in the hotel this first day.  The restaurant overlooks the river; there's a refreshing breeze, but still a balmy warmth - I haven't worn a cardigan for weeks now.  The rest of the day is spent sleeping and reading - we never feel like doing much after an overnight train journey.  I don't even manage a swim.

Tomorrow we will venture into Hoi An town - about 2 kilometres away - by the hotel shuttle bus.  Hoi An is a town famous in Vietnam for having clothes made to your design in a couple of days.  We've been given business cards from a couple of fellow travellers with recommended tailors/seamstresses.  I've already mentioned to Reg a few times how lovely it will be to have a couple of items of clothing made in Hoi An so that he's prepared for tomorrow!  I've tried to persuade him to have a suit made but no joy.  (This is a man who would never wear a suit unless he had to).

"I bought a new suit last year," says Reg. " Why would I need another one?"

The night train to Da Nang

Sunday 17 June

Our night train to Da Nang, from where we'll get a taxi to Hoi An tomorrow morning, leaves Hanoi station at 7 pm this evening.  We decide to have a relaxing day today, after our tour of Halong Bay, and get up late for breakfast. We have to check out of the hostel room at 12 noon, but as usual can leave our luggage here until we are ready to leave for our train at 6.00 pm.

We pack up our belongings. This takes me over an hour as I sort out the bags we brought back from Halong Bay, fold our clean washing which I've just collected from the hostel reception, and rearrange my large suitcase a little to fit everything in. It takes Reg 10 minutes to stuff his clothes and washbag rapidly into his rucksack.

We are able to pay by Visa at this hostel but our card is declined. We try another card, that is declined too. I tell the hostel receptionist that I know the cards should be fine, and our bank knows we're in Vietnam – we don't really want to have to go to an ATM and draw out all that cash, but it looks like we'll have to. More worrying is that the cards aren't working – the credit card worked fine in China a few days ago.

Suddenly the hostel receptionist says we could try to pay at their other hotel across the road if we want to, to see if our card works in their machine. We brave the torrent of motorcyclists and try the other hotel; our card is accepted immediately. Such is finance in Vietnam.

We are going to visit the Hanoi War Museum this afternoon; on the way we think it'll be nice to stop for a coffee (and tea for Reg). The temperature must be 35ºc, and I'm already oozing with sweat. We're given a menu; Reg orders a black tea and I ask for a cappuccino.

“Wait, wait.” The waitress disappears, then returns. “Sorry, no have.”

“I'll have a coffee with milk then, please.”

A few minutes later the waitress appears with iced tea and iced coffee. Reg and I look at each other.

“Sorry, we didn't order this. We asked for a black tea and a coffee with milk.”says Reg. " We would like hot tea, and hot coffee, please."

The waitress doesn't understand; she goes off and another, unsmiling, woman comes out.

“What you want?”

“We ordered a black tea and a coffee with milk, please.  Hot."

With a face like thunder, the woman whisks our iced drinks away. A few minutes later, a black tea arrives, and half a mug of thick, strong black coffee. I ask for some milk. The dead-pan faced woman brings out a tin of sweet, thick, condensed milk and pours some in the coffee mug, then disappears.

“I can't drink this, it's vile,” I say to Reg, feeling sorry for myself, as he enjoys his cup of black tea.

“Well, leave it then.” (dear Lisa, dear Lisa), says Reg, reading his downloaded English papers on his phone.

“But then I haven't got a drink,” I moan.

“Well, have a cold drink from the fridge over there. Have a Sprite.”

“Would you get it for me?”

Reg sighs, gets up, goes to the back of the cafe, tells the woman I can't drink the coffee and am taking a Sprite from the fridge, and sits back down to read his papers in peace. I read my kindle; when we do get up to leave, the unsmiling woman must be glad to get rid of us. But should it really be that difficult to get a cup of tea and coffee?  To be fair, she doesn't charge us for the coffee.

We visit the Hanoi War Museum; it details Vietnam's war history over the centuries, and of course there is a whole section, complete with artefacts and many black-and-white photographs, showing how “North Vietnam liberated South Vietnam from the American aggressors”. Naturally the whole story illustrates Vietnam's glorious victory over the Americans; there's even a video showing how it was done.

The war museum is fascinating, but after a couple of hours I'm weary. Near the museum is a tourist

cafe, a bit more expensive, but I have a nasi goreng (special fried rice), complete with soy sauce, and it's the best meal I'd had in Vietnam. Reg has spaghetti bolognese.

We return to our hostel; it's wonderful to escape the overpowering heat and enter the air-conditioned reception area. We have time to sit for a while in the cool, before gathering together our luggage and saying goodbye to the lovely hostel staff.

It's only a few minutes by taxi to the station. We're struck by the difference between this station and the Chinese ones; we can go straight to the platform and board our train, which is already there. No barriers to hold us in the waiting room until the guard lets us go.

The Vietnamese train is very similar to all the other sleeper trains we've been on, though not quite as clean. We find we are sharing with a Russian mother and her grown-up daughter, who are holidaying in Vietnam too. The daughter can speak English; we catch up a little on each other's stories. It's the first time since the Ukraine that we've shared our cabin with anyone who speaks English! And in the Ukraine it was 2 young Russian women.

There are several other Western tourists in our carriage, including 4 young women from Australia. I'm sure that they're all travelling to Da Nang, from where we'll all make our way by bus or taxi to Hoi An tomorrow morning.

A phone call home

Saturday 16 June

It's great to get back on our bikes after breakfast at the little bush cafe and cycle through the early morning air, back to the little wharf at Cat Ba island, where we will be picked up by our boat.  Our guide arrives on a motorbike to take our luggage for us; we stop a few times on the way back to take photographs of the beautiful scenery - and a little family of goats by the roadside, who aren't at all unnerved by our presence.

Jesse, the American, the Finnish couple Nikko and Sarah, and the four young Australians, are already on the boat.  Jesse, Nikko and Sarah had an adventure yesterday with a flat-tyred motor-bike miles from anywhere in that tremendous thunderstorm; but said they'd really enjoyed themselves.  The young Australians said it had been really noisy on the other side of the island where they stayed the night; we were glad we'd opted for our little bush bungalow.

 

Soon we are all transferred to a larger ferry boat with several other tourists already on it, for the 2 hour journey back to the wharf at Halong Bay.  It's very hot and Reg and I sit in the shade on the deck, taking a last look around at the amazing seascape as we head for the shore.  We're all taken to a nearby restaurant for lunch, then inevitably the worst part of the journey back to Hanoi is in the crowded minibus.  We're all tired and will be glad to just get there.  Some of the other passengers are travelling to further destinations that same evening; we're glad we can return to our hotel room and relax.  

Back at the hotel, we've arranged to phone our daughter Elaine; I text her to tell her we're back, but that   I need a couple of hours sleep before we phone. It's great to hear her voice after several weeks; we put the speakerphone on the mobile so that we can all join in the conversation.  Reg's credit runs out all too quickly and Elaine kindly phones us back on her mobile.  I've said we'll reimburse her!

It's exactly 6 weeks until we return to the UK .  Our trip has been amazing, and there's still more to come - but I already know that, all being well, it will be a joyful homecoming, 

A bush dinner by candlelight

Friday 15 June


We awake to hazy sunshine and again luxuriate in the peaceful, natural beauty of our surroundings.  Halong Bay is a clear as glass, with the greenery covered peaks rising from the sea all around us.  The waters are peppered with a few small boats and a couple of other tourist boats in the distance.
We opted for a 3-day, 2-night tour; some people booked a 1-night tour and are returning to Hanoi today.  After a shared breakfast, we all visit an oyster farm, to find out how pearls are cultured; there is of course, pearl jewellery for sale but we don't buy anything.  We then part company with those returning to Hanoi; those of us who have booked the 2 night tour will be staying on Cat Ba Island tonight, some in a hotel on the busier side of the island, some in a more remote, peaceful "bush" part of the island, in their own straw roofed bungalows.  No prizes for guessing where Reg and I chose to stay when we booked.

The 5 of us from our original group who are staying longer - Reg and I, the young Finnish couple and Jesse, the young Californian - transfer to a ferry boat to join other passengers who are also staying an extra night.  We meet up again with the 4 Australians who travelled with us to Halong Bay in our minibus but weren't on the luxury junk - they are a lovely group of friends who don't book anything in advance and just go where the wind takes them.  There are also 2 Australian women in our age bracket (!) on the ferry boat, who we learn, are the only other 2 people to opt for the jungle bungalows tonight.

It's late morning and our ferry takes us to one of the beaches on Monkey Island, where we can explore the island for a while or have a 45 minute swim before lunch.  I'm in the water within 5 minutes of leaving the boat, with Reg enjoying a spot of relaxation on the beach.  The water is so warm you could stay in the sea all day.  This swim is a highlight of the tour for me, and I'm looking forward to lots more swimming when we have our week's "rest" in Hoi An next week.

We have a look at various coloured starfish, about 12cm in diameter, which are in buckets on the beach - no doubt to be cooked for someone's lunch - I hope not ours.  A women who went exploring (not one of our party) has her hat snatched by a monkey - that's the  last she'll see of that, I guess - the monkey thoroughly enjoys taunting her by playing with her hat in front of her.

A different boat again collects us for lunch on the boat, which again is a variety of fish, seafood, and mini crispy stuffed pork and vegetable rolls which are delicious.  A bowl of french fries is put on the table at every meal except breakfast - the chips are more sweet-tasting than ours.

After lunch the boat makes it's way to Cat Ba island, where we will be spending the rest of the day.  The tour includes a cycle ride of about 4 kilometres to our bush bungalows; even those who are staying in hotels on the other side of the island will come on the ride; they will then cycle back to the wharf to board another boat to their side of the island.

We are kitted out with bikes and helmets - the bikes are roadworthy, apart from some people's brakes not being what they should be! - although there are no gears.  Our backpacks (we only brought what we needed for the Halong Bay tour - most of our luggage including my heavy suitcase is back in our hostel in Hanoi) and the luggage of the 2 older Australian women, Elizabeth and Barbara, who are also staying in bush bungalows, is taken on by motorbikes to our bungalows.

We ride though magnificent Haimountainous countryside and riverside scenery along a mainly flat road towards our bungalows.  The cycle ride is another highlight of the Halong Bay tour, as is our bungalow.  Nestled in the bush, on the edge of Viet Hai village, are a small cluster of bungalows; each is a small square building with comfortable double bed, ensuite bathroom, a small patio with bamboo table and chairs, electric sockets, the all-important air-conditoning, and, we're surprised to find, wifi - and beautiful views of the surrounding countryside, where we can see a small homestead and a cockerel pacing his territory.  We have shutters on the windos (no glass) and a mosquito net.

Dinner will be cooked for Reg and I, Elizabeth and Barbara, by a local couple, and we'll eat it in the tiny  restaurant/bar about 50metres from our bungalow.  The others in our party have cycled back to the wharf, to be transferred to their part of the island - we will cycle back to the wharf tomorrow morning.  Meanwhile we are the only 4 tourists on this part of the island, and it's bliss - so peaceful and rejuvinating.

We can explore the bush if we want, if we keep to the paths, and Elizabeth goes for a walk; I have a rest on the bed and Reg enjoys his music, sitting with a cuppa on the patio.  A lizard scutttles along the window frame, and I decide I will close the shutters at night - just in case!

I'm woken about an hour later by the sound of heavy rain and thunder, and lightning streaks across the sky.  We have a terrific thunderstorm and the electricity fails.  I left my torch back at the Hanoi hostel(!)  The storm is over in half an hour but still no electricity.  At 7.30 pm we pick our way in the dark acrsss to the little restaurant, hoping we'll still be able to have dinner!  Inside the restaurant is one table, beautiful laid, with a candle glowing in the centre of it.  It's magic.

We enjoy a delcious meal of squid (Reg has chicken), with rice and various fruits and vegetables.  We enjoy hearing the stories of our 2 Australian companions, especially the voluntary work  they are doing in Cambodia with children; Barbara also tells us that she is a respite carer for 2 Downs' Syndrome young adults back at home in Australia; she's been doing it every week with one young man for 11 years, and with the other for 6 years.  She's 69 years old and is a still doing triathlons.  Fair play.

As we return to our bungalow, there is once again electricity in the bush village.

Spectacular Halong Bay

Thursday 14 June

It is definitely worth the 3½ hour drive by airconditoned minibus to get from Hanoi to Halong Bay.  How glad I was to leave behind Hanoi City, with its thousands of hurtling motor scooters and motorbikes; no doubt there are good things to see there, and we enjoyed relaxing by one of Hanoi's lakes yesterday afternoon; but it feels that everytime you cross the road you are dicing with death.

There are 18 tourists on the bus; 15 "Westerners", and 3 Vietnamese - these are (we assume) a father and his 2 children, a girl aged 14 and a boy aged 11, we find out later.  The father can't speak English but the children can.  The father/children relationship appears very strained though; the father hardly speaks to the children, and when he takes photos of them, the girl puts on a forced half-smile, but the boy doesn't smile at all. 

The other tourists are all under 30; an young male business executive from Los Angeles, a Finnish couple, a Swiss couple, a very-quiet couple from Holland, 2 lads from Canada, and 4 Australians. And of course a much older couple from Bristol, England! Our tour guide is an English-speaking Vietnamese man.

There are hundreds of tourists visiting Halong Bay every day, but I am really impressed with the way our tour company have everything organised so that at no time are we left waiting around in the heat of the day.  When we arrive at the dockside, there are many boats waiting to take tourists out into the bay; but we are taken straight to a jetty where our "ferry boat" is ready to whisk us out of the harbour and into the bay, where we will join our luxury junk.  The scenery is amazing, in many ways reminding us of our trip down the River Li in Guilin on a bamboo boat.  There are similar greenery covered lime-stone peaks, but this time they are rising out of a millpond sea, and the view takes our breath away.  This is the Vietnam I want to see, and because it's just our small party of 18 (including our tour guide) on the junk, and we've already started to get to know each other, having travelled here together by minibus, it feels like an exclusive trip; there are several other boats out in the bay, but no other tourists around.

Our cabin on the junk has everything we need; a comfortable double bed, a panoramic open window with sea view, air conditioning at night, electric sockets (to charge up Reg's phone and plug in the travel kettle  - we don't travel anywhere without it now) and an ensuite shower/toilet.

We have lunch on the junk, a mixture of meats, vegetables, fruit, and fresh fish which has been caught in the bay - it's all delicious.  After lunch we board another ferryboat, which takes us to visit a cave in a mountain. This involves climbing up a vast number of steps, in a temperature of 37ºc.  I almost bottle out and stay on board the boat and read my kindle, but the cave is the biggest one in Halong Bay and very famous.  I decide to go, and the interior of the cave is enormous and very beautiful, but one cave is much like another to me,  I feel I should have stayed on board the junk when we are herded through the cave with hundreds of other tourists, like a production line: and because the cavern is inside a mountain rather than underground, it's even hotter inside than in the open air.  Never mind, it's kayaking next!

Reg doesn't think he'll enjoy this but he loves it.  We're in a double kayake, with an oar each, with me sitting in the front.  I just manage, with help from a very amused Vietnamese worker, to get into the kayake without tipping it up - memories of my kayake overturning on the River Loire in France many years ago, my lifejacket popping me to the surface of the water like a cork, and then me being unable to climb back into the canoe, have stayed with me.

To try to get some rhythm with our paddles, Reg starts saying in a loud voice behind me;

"Left! Right! Left!"

We start to get the hang of rowing together when a largish boat looms nearby.

"Left! Left! Left!"

Panicking, I say, “Do you mean left paddle or turn left?” (ie right paddle!)

“Left! Left! Left!”

I'm pleased to say we narrowly miss the boat.

Reg and I haven't argued so much since we tried to learn ballroom dancing together when we were engaged (36 years ago) – Reg says it's because I always want to do my own thing, and won't follow his lead.  Despite all this, we really enjoy our kayaking session, although getting out of the canoe at the end is another matter. Reg is still in the boat, leaving the embarrassment of extricating me from the canoe to the seasoned boatman standing on the wharf. The boatman hauls me up but my lifejacket is caught in the canoe! Eventually Reg and the boatman free my lifejacket, and with an enormous effort on the part of the boatman, I plop out onto the wharf, like a beached whale.

After our kayaking session, the ferryboat takes us back to our luxury junk, which is moored in in the bay.  We have free time on the junk; all the young ones swim from the boat, the lads mostly jumping off the side of the junk into the luxuriously warm seawater, and the girls scaling the ladder which the crew have fixed to the side of the boat.  I watch the young ones in water, and would love to go in, but am not sure about climbing down the ladder; also, if I'm honest, I would feel self conscious scaling the ladder in front of all those lovely young people with their beautiful bronzed bodies.

I leave the the young ones to it and go to our cabin for a rest; Reg has gone to listen to his music on the top deck.  Soon it's time for our evening meal, and as at lunchtime we all sit together at a long table; the meal is similar to lunch, except that there's more of it.  No-one goes hungry.

Our tour guide suggests that after dinner we might want to try dancing or karaoke (I'm not sure he's serious about the karaoke - I don't think anyone's had enough to drink to volunteer to be the first to take the microphone).  Most people just want to relax on the top deck of the junk, savouring the balmy warmth of the evening air, and feasting their eyes one what must surely be one of the most beautiful seascapes in the world - which is no doubt why it is a World Natural Heritage site.

Reg and I have a long conversation with the young Swiss couple, on topics which range from how expensive Switzerland is to live in, to why young people ( in Switzerland and elsewhere) are choosing to live together rather than marry. In Switzerland, if a couple aren't married before they have children, they have to adopt their own children! We talk about faith and spirituality, the banking crisis, the “Occupy St Paul's” protests (and the similar ones which occurred elsewhere, including in Switzerland) and the riots in England last August. The young businessman from California joins in our conversation, until we all decide to call it a night.

I sleep well, our junk resting gently on the millpond waters of spectacular Halong Bay.

My turn for a haircut - Vietnamese style

Wednesday 13 June


We both remember Reg's haircut in Lanzhou, China, when the barber's wife was so excited to have a "Westerner" in the shop, that she insisted on taking photos of Reg and me with her husband, then with herself, after the haircut.

Now it's my turn; the young man who is going to cut my hair looks very nervous, but he needn't be.  I know that whatever my hair turns out like, I will feel cooler if it's shorter.

Reg decides he will read the English papers (downloaded on his smartphone every day) in the waiting area of the salon while I have my haircut.  I'm taken 2 floors up to have my hair washed; I sit back in the special reclining chair and relax, enjoying having my hair washed and conditioned, and being given a head massage as well; the shampooist has an excellent touch and takes at least 25 minutes for rhe washing process, after which my hair smells wonderful and I am totally relaxed.  At home my hairdresser comes to me, and I wash my own hair before he arrives; it's over 20 years since I've been to a hairdressing salon, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the experience.

I've drawn the haircut I want, roughly, on a piece of scrap paper- the stylist has a quick glance at my sketch and then proceeds to carefully and painstakingly cut my hair.  He seems very serious and doesn't look at me or smile once while he styles my hair; but I can see the receptionist in the mirror, and she gives me an encouraging smile.

The young hairdresser spends about 20 minutes blowdrying my hair, once he's finished cutting; by the time my hair is done, I've been in the salon for over an hour.  I'm really pleased with the result and tell the young stylist this; he smiles warmly for the first time.  The man whom I take to be the owner or manager of the salon, who explained to me the previous evening how much my haircut would cost, walks in towards the end of my haircut and takes a photo of he finished result.

I tip the young stylist and the lovely young girl who washed my hair. As we leave the salon, I feel so much better. The young man has given me a really good haircut, and all for £10.  Now all I need is a cup of coffee!  We discover a cafe cum patisserie (there's a lot of French influence in Vietnam) and I enjoy a milky coffee - bliss!  Reg has black tea.

Later we run into a couple we met in our last hostel in Guilin, China, and join them for a cool drink. Afterwards they go off to a museum, while we spend a relaxing afternoon beside another local lake.  It's slightly cooler than yesterday, and there's a refreshing breeze.

Even our food is better tonight; we choose to eat from a roadside cafe, where we can choose our food, buffet style.  The surroundings are much more humble than last night, but the food is much tastier.  We sit on small plastic stools at low tables to eat our dinner.

Back at the hostel I write and post this blog as tomorrow morning we go to Halong bay for 3 days, and may not have any internet access; almost certainly not for the 1st night anyway, as we are sleeping on a junk.