The Ha My TT Limited

by night

and by day

After our aforementioned dream train trip, we arrived to our beauteous guest house on the coast near Hoi An. That sentence hides how frustrating the experience was, given we had potentially the world's most incompetent taxi driver (bless him), but the end result is what I've chosen to focus on here. Hoi An. It's one of those towns that backpackers swarm to, it's on every Vietnam itinerary (along with Halong bay) and it's recently been the centre of controversy, as the local council has begun charging people entry into the old quarter (this happened the week after Elizabeth and I visited, so our timing was charmed).

Some people are put off by 'over touristed' places, and I do understand that. I've certainly gone through phases like that and I've enjoyed places in a particularly special way because I was the only guest there. I know how my own loneliness seems to magnify when I'm surrounded by other tourists who look like me, come from the same country, or type of country, as me - and who I have next to nothing in common in. However, the old 'sometimes something is a cliché because it's so good' theory applies very strongly to Hoi An. Yes, there are tourists. Yes, you might get ripped off. But you'll also be wandering around the streets pictured above, you'll be eating some of the most famous Vietnamese cuisine and you'll be surrounded by products you want to buy (anti-consumerist tendencies notwithstanding); tailored clothing, handmade leather bags and straw hats to name a few. 

with my new straw hat

dream house!

oh, a whole street of them

background and foreground = super beautiful

That's all good and well. You've read one of the many write ups on the special 'Disneyland' magic and ease of Hoi An. Hell, you've probably been to Hoi An. Where you almost definitely haven't been is Ha My TT Guesthouse. Ha My TT Guesthouse is a singular place I will remember, and hopefully return to, for the remainder of my days. Hien, the host, is a jocular Vietnamese man who speaks fluent French and almost no English. He lived in France for ten years and has awfully gallic mannerisms and style. Or maybe he's seen a few Wes Anderson films. 

The ocean is wild and large, and the sand isn't white. Fishermen go out in the morning in these dinky little boats shaped like a spherical bowl; they tip quite dramatically side to side in the waves, but always seem to find their equilibrium. During the hot part of the day the workers rest and the boats are left on the sand, upside down, drying out. 

looking back at Ha My TT

On the final morning, Hien played his usual game of solitaire and took the only picture Elizabeth and I have of us both together. We took a taxi to Danang airport, where Elizabeth had a flight at 9:15am to Ho Chi Minh City (en route to Bangkok, London, Glasgow) and I had a flight, also at 9:15am, back home to Hanoi. We drank some Vietnamese coffee, with condensed milk, and hugged very fast before Elizabeth darted off to her gate (almost late). 

Cuc Phuong: Kathmandu Explorers

Not too far from Hanoi (about three hours by bus) is the oldest national park in Vietnam - it was established in 1962 and it is adorable. As a New Zealander, it isn't what I think of when I think 'national park' (I think: wild, untamed, a place where I need skills and supplies), but it is truly a lovely spot and it's hyper-accessibility doesn't usually impede on the natural beauty loafing about for all to see. Refer to the swan boat on stilts above, for example. 

There are paved roads, which you can motorbike or cycle or walk on (Elizabeth and I opted for the latter two options, but I imagine moto-ing around would be bliss too), there is copious accommodation at various places and there is a restaurant serving vegetarian dishes (not many, but still - imagine asking for tofu and garlic fried spinach in a national park restaurant in New Zealand? Just kidding, there isn't a restaurant and all restaurants that do exist within a 100km radius of a park entrance would give you a pineapple and cheese sandwich and send you on your merry way). There are a million times a million mosquitos, and I didn't bring 1. a pair of long trousers, or 2. repellant. I actually have photographs of my legs where it looks like I have some medieval version of the pox, but I have chosen not to put them on my blog; my self-respect and pride have, for once, impeded me. 

Picnic - gouda, cherry tomatoes, gherkins and tea

Tea in the Jungle

Warning: I'm going to keep talking about New Zealand. I'm not homesick or anything, but National Parks just bring that in me. 

So, in New Zealand, there is a famous outdoor supplies brand called Kathmandu. When I was a teenager, I thought it was the best shop ever and would drag my mother there come birthdays and Christmases. She's German, so she had no problem forking out for goose down sleeping bags, sensible socks and other such highly practical, survivalist items. I liked the idea of being the kind of lady who would use such things (now I am such a lady, but I take perverse pride in fashioning my own survival kits from cheap hunting gear shops instead). 

In any case, after we cycled a full seven kilometres and looked at one famous 'Cave of the Prehistoric Man' (actually, Cave of the Man of 700 Years Ago, so: not very prehistoric guys) we sat down for our luxe picnic and tea and made a list of all the things we would not achieve on this trip. Here is a sample:

* Go into the interior of the park 

* Cycle further than 14 kilometres 

* Go see the langurs at the wildlife rescue centre

* Kayak on the lake 

* Go to the other cave

* Go to this extremely old tree 

In any case, those are all options for you should you wish to visit Cuc Phuong National Parks and, by all accounts, you'd have a lovely time. Us, we mostly like drinking tea and reading 1920s British satire aloud. We are not very effective, as we have come to call it, Kathmandu Explorers. 

I take not being a Kathmandu Explorer to ridiculous heights and even lived in Israel for four months without going to the Dead Sea. That was actually stupid, and I regret it. (I was hideously broke at the time, but really: I should have walked). 

To cheer you up after that utterly hopeless thought, here is Elizabeth modeling the wonderful grounds at Headquarters, Cuc Phuong: 

And here are some parting shots from the bus trip home, including one of a dream cottage; a place I imagine I could wile time away drinking tea and pottering about on small projects, where I could take several hours to do the laundry and consider that to be my day, spent.*

* NB: Pretty sure the people who actually live there work harder than I care to imagine, judging by the meticulous garden out front and the verdant grounds.