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). 

Karst caves and fresh air

Unlike most, more energetic and inspired, travelers, expats and what-have-you, I am pretty useless at actually going out on adventures once I have a comfortable nest to curl up in and can begin the arduous task of establishing daily routines. Learning how to order my favourite kind of noodles is enough of an adventure for my Tuesday, thank you very much. 

Despite this, I was thankfully jilted out of my stupor by a visit from one my dearest friends, who has a near-phobia of online existence and who, therefore, does not appear in any photos or commentary. I will call her 'Activated Nut' (A.N.), since she introduced me to the incredibly bourgeois nonsense that is 'activated' nuts (which, unfortunately, are wonderful).

We spent most of her week motorbiking around Hanoi, eating (a lot) and drinking every cocktail with gin in it, but the highlight was our overnight trip to the area of Tam Coc, accessible via the train station at Ninh Binh (2 hours from Hanoi). Ninh Binh itself is a shady town, with the atmosphere and personality of a border town (that is to say: sleazy, untrustworthy and desperate). We met one unsavory woman who roped us both in, despite our smarter instincts, and so we began our trip with A.N. firmly telling another lady involved in the scam "No! Go away" and slamming a car door. Tensions high, we arrived at our hotel and, upon realising we had arrived at paradise, dropped our bags (and baggage), took advantage of the free bikes and went on an entirely unresearched roam. 

Well, I don't know if I've ever been in a place which rewards random exploration with the same intensity as Tam Coc. For example, I was cycling past the little pond (?) below, saw that cave and stood staring at it until an old woman came over and offered to take us into the cave in her boat. Well. Well well well. 

About 15 minutes later we come out in the inside of the mountain. Dusk.

Our staunch guide, who would point her torch at cave formations and say "Madam, look - beautiful"

Can you see the face on a winged body? In the blue. 

Hyperventilating and generally astonished and shaky (it was dark when we finally came out of the cave again. It had been light when we went in), we cycled back on the roads between the rice fields, in the dark, and called out little exclamations to each other. At one moment in the cave our torch had failed, and we had sat, in the pitch black, holding hands and saying "it's ok, it's ok, don't worry" 

It was ok. Staunch guide lady fixed the torch, in the dark, and we returned to the incredible sight below (our mind-blowing hotel), swam in the dark and knocked back gins. 

For our nerves.