HOW TO DO VIETNAM ON A WHIM

HOW TO DO VIETNAM ON A WHIM

I’ve had my eyes set on South-East Asia for a while, and when I saw an airline deal to Vietnam last month (Rs24,000 for a return trip) I took it. I didn’t consult a friend. I didn’t ask anyone whether or not it was a good idea. I didn’t ask anyone to come along. Turns out, Vietnam ticks just about every box for solo travelers – it’s safe, cheap and there’s plenty to see and do. It’s a clash of cultures with a hectic urban pace and people who are very serious about eating good food.

Think I’m getting older though. The first time I backpacked solo, I had no guidebook, no map, no hostel/Airbnb booking, no money, nothing in the way of language skills and no idea what the hell I was doing. But now I’ve become a boring, risk-free normal adult so I’ve taken up the offer of the first hostel to pick me up at the airport. I’m armed with an app to book motorbike taxis. I know exactly what I want in my bowl of pho. And I put my faith in a travel agency to book me on a cruise to Ha Long Bay.

Traveling solo can be liberating and stress-free. You’ve got no responsibilities to anybody but yourself, you can do what you want and leave when you like, and the buzz you get from the sense of freedom is immense. Of course, there’s the stress of having to look after everything yourself, but my greatest fear of all is eating every meal alone. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not because I fear loneliness, it’s because I want to try at least six things off the menu and there is no one to share those with.

When you’re a woman holidaying alone, you’re subjected to the steady stream of “But you beautiful, why no husband?” from locals, but it’s their way of making small talk, and not a real concern. Other times, a solo (especially, female) traveler is an object of great curiosity. You will be surprised how often people at the next table will strike up a conversation, or even invite you to join them. I rarely decline.

Hanoi
Hanoi, where I started my trip, is bustling, and the traffic, whew! In fact, they joke in Vietnam: ‘If the light’s green, I go. If the light’s yellow, I go. If the light’s red, I still go’. It’s a miracle I didn’t get run over trying to cross the roads there. Then again I’m from Mumbai. With a fine balance of nonchalance and awareness, just start walking at a regular pace and they will stop…okay I don’t promise that. Hanoi’s Old Quarter is a maze of alleyways full of coffee shops, street vendors, temples, counterfeit DVD stalls, boutique stores, bars, eateries, and art galleries selling Communist propaganda posters.

I decided the best way to explore the Old Quarter was to start at the Hoan Kiem Lake with a coconut coffee, a delicious combination of coconut milk, coconut sorbet, condensed milk and coffee. The best one I had was from Cong Caphe, a kitschy communist-themed cafe chain. I had a map to guide me around the Old Quarter but I shoved that into my backpack and let my inquisitiveness lead the way, and wandered the busy streets for hours together. I reunited with fellow backpackers from my hostel for lunch at the popular Bun Cha Dac Kim for the only thing that’s on the menu: bun cha. Tens of us were seated on low plastic stools on the pavement for this iconic dish. Grilled pork with nuoc mam (fish sauce), chillies, garlic, a heap of greens and a big bowl of rice noodles. We begin to dunk and slurp as is the tradition, washing it down with a chilled local beer ‘Bia Ha Noi’. I’m a pescatarian back home, but on lonely nights I’ll think of this bun cha I ate here.
Cong Caphe Outposts across the city. See here for the addresses. 
Bun Cha Dac Kim 67 Duong Thanh, Old Quarter, Hanoi.

Ha Long Bay
Ha Long Bay is a two-and-a-half hour bus ride away from Hanoi, the capital. I did a two-day tour, which included a pick up from and drop back to Hanoi and one night aboard a ship called Imperial Classic. She was cute if a little rough around the edges. As the boat set sail from Ha Long City and out into Ha Long Bay, we were served a traditional Vietnamese lunch in the common dining room. Plates of beef salad, spring rolls and the classic Vietnamese pho were brought out. More plates of seafood and pork for mains and a generous serving of French fries were next. Everything was shared between everyone on board – a family from Russia, a group from Canada, couples from England and Ireland, a woman from Germany, a mother-daughter duo from Vietnam, a girl from Italy and me, all at one table!

Next up was kayaking. We paired up. This is always awkward for a solo traveller as you have to wait for the couples and the groups of four to head out. Then you’re left to look around at the other partner-less oddballs, and you make eye contact and nod. My partner was the Italian girl. “So…us?” More nodding. We got into the kayak, grabbed a paddle, then set out over the water.

Ha Long Bay isn’t really a place for serious kayakers and rafters; there are no level three rapids or giant rocks to swerve around as part of a team of experienced thrill seekers. Instead, we settled for gently poking the tip of our paddle into the emerald green waters of the Gulf of Tonkin. We then spent the next 30 minutes paddling our way around the small inlets, observing local families in their floating homes. The villages have everything they need including schools and markets, and we were told that they only venture to the mainland once every few months.

Back on the cruise, in time for sunset, the mist fell heavy over the limestone karsts. Ha Long Bay looked more magical than it ever did on Google images. The couples around me started to cosy up in front of the dramatic imagery, and I nestled in the warmth of my phone as I posted yet another picture on Instagram. One of the joys of travelling with others is that you always have someone to reminisce with. That doesn’t happen when you’re travelling by yourself, so I take plenty of photos and overshare on Instagram to keep a log of my trip highlights.

All the food and activities are included as part of any tour package to Ha Long Bay; all we had to pay for on the boat were the beers we drank, of which there were many as the night was filled with karaoke in the common dining area (where everyone sang the wrong lyrics of course). The next morning, we cruised peacefully through the bay, soaking it all in, admiring the stunning cliffs before us as we returned to the mainland.
You can book a tour on the Ha Long Bay Imperial Classic here. 

The Sleeper Train
Train travel is notoriously slow in Vietnam. But I had ten days in the country, so I booked a bed in a four-berth soft sleeper to take me from Hanoi to Danang (the station closest to Hoi An, my next stop). My co-passengers were an Austrian woman, her eight-year-old daughter and a cockroach we named Dan. We each had our own bunk with a mattress, pillow, sheet, small bedside light and (my personal favourite) a socket for charging our various devices. We shared packets of Poca (the Vietnamese equivalent of Lay’s potato crisps) and stories from Hanoi before I fell asleep to the rattle of wheels beneath us. Luckily for me, they felt comfortable enough to wake me from my slumber to view the scenery in the morning. We passed through tunnels carved in the mountainside hugging the Bay of Danang and miles and miles of rice paddy fields, the greenest greens I’ve seen.

Hoi An
It’s hard not to fall in love with Hoi An’s bright yellow-walled French colonial buildings, pink bougainvillea-dotted cobbled roofs and simple charm. Then, you try the bahn mi for VND20,000 (Rs80), sip on the refreshing sweet and spicy iced herbal tea from Mot Hoi An, and you’re ready to commit for life. Hoi An was a former shipping port that is essentially frozen in time. The Chinese and Japanese traders exerted heavy influence on Hoi An in the seventeenth century, and what’s left today is a quaint little pedestrian-only village that feels like you’ve stepped into a fairytale.

The centerpiece of this village is the Japanese Covered Bridge, which houses a Buddhist temple. I walked up to this bridge several times in an attempt to go in and each time the number of tourists seemed to have multiplied. I stumbled across the Hoi An Full Moon Lantern Festival by chance, a monthly event on the night of the full moon. The heritage town became even more vibrant as silk lanterns of every colour lit up in the skies and hoards of tourists released floating candles through the river. Incidentally, Hoi An is also well known for its custom tailoring and bespoke silk fabrics. Many craftsmen promise to reproduce in less than 24 hours a design you show them in a magazine and then have it sent to you at your hotel. Hoi An made me feel like certain places have more life than the others, and maybe that’s why it was my favourite.
Madam Khanh – Banh Mi Queen 115 Tran Cao Van, Hoi An.
Banh Mi Phuong 2B Phan Chau Trinh, Hoi An. 
Mot Hoi An 150 Tran Phu, Minh An, Hoi An. 

Ho Chi Minh City
From Danang, which is the city closest to Hoi An, I flew to Ho Chi Minh. Formerly (and fondly) called Saigon, Ho Chi Minh is a city where the café culture dominates and the coffee is mind-numbingly strong. I booked motorbike taxis with the help of Grab, an app (which is like Uber for motorbikes) to tackle the busy streets of this very hip city. Cheap and cheerful riders would arrive, we’d exchange wide smiles and with the help of GPS, whizz off. Fortunately, we never had to exchange any words; the only Vietnamese I can speak is “Tram phan tram” which roughly means ‘Bottoms up’.

I swapped my Birkenstocks for a pair of closed shoes to be allowed into Chill Skybar on the 26th floor of the AB building. There’s no entry fee but there’s a dress code that’s enforced somewhat strictly. Smart casuals, no slippers, no shorts. A fellow backpacker from my hostel and I made our way up to this rooftop bar. The music is a mix of pop and hip hop. The cocktail menu is a collection of classics, two of which set you back VND200,000 (Rs600) during happy hour. Without a reservation, we stood by the bar, surrounded by tourists and rich locals. I sipped on my drinks as I watched over downtown Saigon. The neon lights beneath me looked disarmingly peaceful from up above.

Not sure if a trip to the War Remnants Museum was the best way to end my trip. I was left overwhelmed. The museum gives visitors an idea of the Vietnam War from the perspective of the Vietnamese. The poignant photos stayed with me long after I had left the building. I recuperated as I sipped on my last glass of ca phe sua da (Vietnamese iced coffee), hoping the sweetness of the coffee would dilute the bitter thoughts of war.
Chill Skybar  Level 26 of AB Tower, 76A Le Lai, District 1, Ho Chi Minh. Chillsaigon.com. No entry fee. Happy hours from 5.30pm to 8.30pm daily.
L’Usine Cafe lusinespace.com.
Propaganda Vietnamese Bistro propagandasaigon.com
War Remnants Museum 28 Vo Van Tan, Ward 6, District 3, Ho Chi Minh. Warremnantsmuseum.com. Entry fee VND15,000 (Rs50) Open daily, from 7.30am to noon and from 1.30pm to 5pm. 

Tickets to Vietnam on Jet Airways are currently priced at Rs41,000 including taxes for return economy class seats. The best time to go is now (until the end of April). Summer in Vietnam can be too humid to fully explore the outdoors.
Tip Certain bookings such as the Ha Long Bay cruise, domestic flights within the country, train travel, and taxis between Danang and Hoi An are cheaper if you make them in Vietnam itself instead of online in advance.

Janvi Morzaria is a digital video curator and former TV news producer-anchor who will swear you’ve never watched her shows. Based in Mumbai, she loves to travel and share her 1×1-sized adventures on Instagram @janvimorzaria. Please email her pictures of cats or Benedict Cumberbatch to janvimorzaria@gmail.com.

’ve had my eyes set on South-East Asia for a while, and when I saw an airline deal to Vietnam last month (Rs24,000 for a return trip) I took it. I didn’t consult a friend. I didn’t ask anyone whether or not it was a good idea. I didn’t ask anyone to come along. Turns out, Vietnam ticks just about every box for solo travelers – it’s safe, cheap and there’s plenty to see and do. It’s a clash of cultures with a hectic urban pace and people who are very serious about eating good food.

Think I’m getting older though. The first time I backpacked solo, I had no guidebook, no map, no hostel/Airbnb booking, no money, nothing in the way of language skills and no idea what the hell I was doing. But now I’ve become a boring, risk-free normal adult so I’ve taken up the offer of the first hostel to pick me up at the airport. I’m armed with an app to book motorbike taxis. I know exactly what I want in my bowl of pho. And I put my faith in a travel agency to book me on a cruise to Ha Long Bay.

Traveling solo can be liberating and stress-free. You’ve got no responsibilities to anybody but yourself, you can do what you want and leave when you like, and the buzz you get from the sense of freedom is immense. Of course, there’s the stress of having to look after everything yourself, but my greatest fear of all is eating every meal alone. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not because I fear loneliness, it’s because I want to try at least six things off the menu and there is no one to share those with.

When you’re a woman holidaying alone, you’re subjected to the steady stream of “But you beautiful, why no husband?” from locals, but it’s their way of making small talk, and not a real concern. Other times, a solo (especially, female) traveler is an object of great curiosity. You will be surprised how often people at the next table will strike up a conversation, or even invite you to join them. I rarely decline.

Hanoi
Hanoi, where I started my trip, is bustling, and the traffic, whew! In fact, they joke in Vietnam: ‘If the light’s green, I go. If the light’s yellow, I go. If the light’s red, I still go’. It’s a miracle I didn’t get run over trying to cross the roads there. Then again I’m from Mumbai. With a fine balance of nonchalance and awareness, just start walking at a regular pace and they will stop…okay I don’t promise that. Hanoi’s Old Quarter is a maze of alleyways full of coffee shops, street vendors, temples, counterfeit DVD stalls, boutique stores, bars, eateries, and art galleries selling Communist propaganda posters.

I decided the best way to explore the Old Quarter was to start at the Hoan Kiem Lake with a coconut coffee, a delicious combination of coconut milk, coconut sorbet, condensed milk and coffee. The best one I had was from Cong Caphe, a kitschy communist-themed cafe chain. I had a map to guide me around the Old Quarter but I shoved that into my backpack and let my inquisitiveness lead the way, and wandered the busy streets for hours together. I reunited with fellow backpackers from my hostel for lunch at the popular Bun Cha Dac Kim for the only thing that’s on the menu: bun cha. Tens of us were seated on low plastic stools on the pavement for this iconic dish. Grilled pork with nuoc mam (fish sauce), chillies, garlic, a heap of greens and a big bowl of rice noodles. We begin to dunk and slurp as is the tradition, washing it down with a chilled local beer ‘Bia Ha Noi’. I’m a pescatarian back home, but on lonely nights I’ll think of this bun cha I ate here.
Cong Caphe Outposts across the city. See here for the addresses. 
Bun Cha Dac Kim 67 Duong Thanh, Old Quarter, Hanoi.

Ha Long Bay
Ha Long Bay is a two-and-a-half hour bus ride away from Hanoi, the capital. I did a two-day tour, which included a pick up from and drop back to Hanoi and one night aboard a ship called Imperial Classic. She was cute if a little rough around the edges. As the boat set sail from Ha Long City and out into Ha Long Bay, we were served a traditional Vietnamese lunch in the common dining room. Plates of beef salad, spring rolls and the classic Vietnamese pho were brought out. More plates of seafood and pork for mains and a generous serving of French fries were next. Everything was shared between everyone on board – a family from Russia, a group from Canada, couples from England and Ireland, a woman from Germany, a mother-daughter duo from Vietnam, a girl from Italy and me, all at one table!

Next up was kayaking. We paired up. This is always awkward for a solo traveller as you have to wait for the couples and the groups of four to head out. Then you’re left to look around at the other partner-less oddballs, and you make eye contact and nod. My partner was the Italian girl. “So…us?” More nodding. We got into the kayak, grabbed a paddle, then set out over the water.

Ha Long Bay isn’t really a place for serious kayakers and rafters; there are no level three rapids or giant rocks to swerve around as part of a team of experienced thrill seekers. Instead, we settled for gently poking the tip of our paddle into the emerald green waters of the Gulf of Tonkin. We then spent the next 30 minutes paddling our way around the small inlets, observing local families in their floating homes. The villages have everything they need including schools and markets, and we were told that they only venture to the mainland once every few months.

Back on the cruise, in time for sunset, the mist fell heavy over the limestone karsts. Ha Long Bay looked more magical than it ever did on Google images. The couples around me started to cosy up in front of the dramatic imagery, and I nestled in the warmth of my phone as I posted yet another picture on Instagram. One of the joys of travelling with others is that you always have someone to reminisce with. That doesn’t happen when you’re travelling by yourself, so I take plenty of photos and overshare on Instagram to keep a log of my trip highlights.

All the food and activities are included as part of any tour package to Ha Long Bay; all we had to pay for on the boat were the beers we drank, of which there were many as the night was filled with karaoke in the common dining area (where everyone sang the wrong lyrics of course). The next morning, we cruised peacefully through the bay, soaking it all in, admiring the stunning cliffs before us as we returned to the mainland.
You can book a tour on the Ha Long Bay Imperial Classic here. 

The Sleeper Train
Train travel is notoriously slow in Vietnam. But I had ten days in the country, so I booked a bed in a four-berth soft sleeper to take me from Hanoi to Danang (the station closest to Hoi An, my next stop). My co-passengers were an Austrian woman, her eight-year-old daughter and a cockroach we named Dan. We each had our own bunk with a mattress, pillow, sheet, small bedside light and (my personal favourite) a socket for charging our various devices. We shared packets of Poca (the Vietnamese equivalent of Lay’s potato crisps) and stories from Hanoi before I fell asleep to the rattle of wheels beneath us. Luckily for me, they felt comfortable enough to wake me from my slumber to view the scenery in the morning. We passed through tunnels carved in the mountainside hugging the Bay of Danang and miles and miles of rice paddy fields, the greenest greens I’ve seen.

Hoi An
It’s hard not to fall in love with Hoi An’s bright yellow-walled French colonial buildings, pink bougainvillea-dotted cobbled roofs and simple charm. Then, you try the bahn mi for VND20,000 (Rs80), sip on the refreshing sweet and spicy iced herbal tea from Mot Hoi An, and you’re ready to commit for life. Hoi An was a former shipping port that is essentially frozen in time. The Chinese and Japanese traders exerted heavy influence on Hoi An in the seventeenth century, and what’s left today is a quaint little pedestrian-only village that feels like you’ve stepped into a fairytale.

The centerpiece of this village is the Japanese Covered Bridge, which houses a Buddhist temple. I walked up to this bridge several times in an attempt to go in and each time the number of tourists seemed to have multiplied. I stumbled across the Hoi An Full Moon Lantern Festival by chance, a monthly event on the night of the full moon. The heritage town became even more vibrant as silk lanterns of every colour lit up in the skies and hoards of tourists released floating candles through the river. Incidentally, Hoi An is also well known for its custom tailoring and bespoke silk fabrics. Many craftsmen promise to reproduce in less than 24 hours a design you show them in a magazine and then have it sent to you at your hotel. Hoi An made me feel like certain places have more life than the others, and maybe that’s why it was my favourite.
Madam Khanh – Banh Mi Queen 115 Tran Cao Van, Hoi An.
Banh Mi Phuong 2B Phan Chau Trinh, Hoi An. 
Mot Hoi An 150 Tran Phu, Minh An, Hoi An. 

Ho Chi Minh City
From Danang, which is the city closest to Hoi An, I flew to Ho Chi Minh. Formerly (and fondly) called Saigon, Ho Chi Minh is a city where the café culture dominates and the coffee is mind-numbingly strong. I booked motorbike taxis with the help of Grab, an app (which is like Uber for motorbikes) to tackle the busy streets of this very hip city. Cheap and cheerful riders would arrive, we’d exchange wide smiles and with the help of GPS, whizz off. Fortunately, we never had to exchange any words; the only Vietnamese I can speak is “Tram phan tram” which roughly means ‘Bottoms up’.

I swapped my Birkenstocks for a pair of closed shoes to be allowed into Chill Skybar on the 26th floor of the AB building. There’s no entry fee but there’s a dress code that’s enforced somewhat strictly. Smart casuals, no slippers, no shorts. A fellow backpacker from my hostel and I made our way up to this rooftop bar. The music is a mix of pop and hip hop. The cocktail menu is a collection of classics, two of which set you back VND200,000 (Rs600) during happy hour. Without a reservation, we stood by the bar, surrounded by tourists and rich locals. I sipped on my drinks as I watched over downtown Saigon. The neon lights beneath me looked disarmingly peaceful from up above.

Not sure if a trip to the War Remnants Museum was the best way to end my trip. I was left overwhelmed. The museum gives visitors an idea of the Vietnam War from the perspective of the Vietnamese. The poignant photos stayed with me long after I had left the building. I recuperated as I sipped on my last glass of ca phe sua da (Vietnamese iced coffee), hoping the sweetness of the coffee would dilute the bitter thoughts of war.
Chill Skybar  Level 26 of AB Tower, 76A Le Lai, District 1, Ho Chi Minh. Chillsaigon.com. No entry fee. Happy hours from 5.30pm to 8.30pm daily.
L’Usine Cafe lusinespace.com.
Propaganda Vietnamese Bistro propagandasaigon.com
War Remnants Museum 28 Vo Van Tan, Ward 6, District 3, Ho Chi Minh. Warremnantsmuseum.com. Entry fee VND15,000 (Rs50) Open daily, from 7.30am to noon and from 1.30pm to 5pm. 

Tickets to Vietnam on Jet Airways are currently priced at Rs41,000 including taxes for return economy class seats. The best time to go is now (until the end of April). Summer in Vietnam can be too humid to fully explore the outdoors.
Tip Certain bookings such as the Ha Long Bay cruise, domestic flights within the country, train travel, and taxis between Danang and Hoi An are cheaper if you make them in Vietnam itself instead of online in advance.

Janvi Morzaria is a digital video curator and former TV news producer-anchor who will swear you’ve never watched her shows. Based in Mumbai, she loves to travel and share her 1×1-sized adventures on Instagram @janvimorzaria. Please email her pictures of cats or Benedict Cumberbatch to janvimorzaria@gmail.com.