Why I’m Leaving Vietnam Early

After a memorable month in Thailand, I took a short flight to Vietnam. I had very high hopes, and was especially excited for the food! Disembarking the plane with a big smile on my face (having just come from Land of the Smiles), I headed off to Hanoi, Vietnam’s capital city.

I knew it would take some adjusting in the city, where scooters commandeer the sidewalks and streets are narrow. I’m not much of a city person, which is why I actually skipped Bangkok when I was in Thailand. However, I needed to start in Hanoi in order to check off one major to-do on my list: the Ha Giang loop.

So I disembarked in the capital city, adjusting to the beeps, swerves, and dirt of city life. I can tolerate a couple days almost being flattened into a tourist pancake, but I was startled when one woman tried valiantly to get me to buy a donut. I crossed my hands in front of me as she tried to make me take it, and by her aggressive chasing, I thought she might just shove it in my mouth before giving up.

Pho-nominal or Pho-gettable?

Before I journeyed north for the Ha Giang loop, it was time to eat. After Pho Fridays with friends going to Black Pepper Pho in Boulder, I couldn’t wait for pho. In Portland one of my top favorite restaurants is Luc Lac Vietnamese Kitchen, with its mouth-watering vermicelli bowls. The real thing originated right here!

By chance, I was staying half a block from Pho 10, which someone told me is one of the top 10 places in the world to get pho.

It was good… but (and I feel like I should whisper this next part) not great. The first few meals in Vietnam didn’t come close to my expectations. Of course, a few meals are only a first impression. Surely there would be some mind blowing bánh mì in the works, or street food that will knock my socks off (did I mention I was expecting a lot of the food?)

Yet my first bánh mì was also a bit of a disappointment. Pretty good, but not like the crispy ones I’d sneak off to during my lunch break at Bambuza on the waterfront in Portland. I started to wonder if maybe I’d been eating “Americanized” styles, or maybe I was just picking the wrong street food vendors— there were so many to choose from!

Turn that smile upside down

Aside from the food experiences, I started to notice that my wide smile was out of place here. Very few people returned a smile, most remained impassive. I started to falter, a little disappointed, but not going to let it get to me. After all, this is a whole new country with a rich history and hard working people, they don’t owe it to me to smile. Maybe I just need to adjust my expectations a little after having such a marvelous time in Thailand. Give it a chance!

Ha Giang Loop

I only had a couple days in Hanoi until I set off to do the famous Ha Giang Loop, a 350 km (218 miles) route that takes riders through stunning terrain, windy roads, and remote villages.

I loved this experience. I ended up doing the loop with two German women and our guide, who were all about my age. At first I was nervous about riding a motorcycle on “some of the most dangerous mountain roads of the country“, especially because automatics don’t cut it with the steep inclines and declines. I got a little practice changing gears in the town and then we were off.

When I was learning to scooter in Bali, I remember being struck by how many people made eye contact, smiled, and even waved. I noted the difference here as I drove the motorcycle, stony expressions if people looked at all. In the end, the scenery was so stunning I hardly gave it much thought.

For some reason during the second half of the loop, people were friendlier. Children waved in clusters, reaching their hands out for high fives. At one point, I tried to buy a hemp bag with a couple of 50,000 VND bills. The lady just laughed and returned the money to my hands, showing me that I was off by a 0 and had accidentally gave her two 500,000 bills ($40 instead of $4). I had heard of scams where vendors take the hundred thousand notes and give you change for a tenth of the amount, so I’d been careful up until that point to keep track. I clapped my hand over my mouth when I realized my mistake.

It was easy to feel ripped off by vendors, but I didn’t actually get scammed (as far as I know), which is one of the biggest complaints I’ve read about Vietnam, especially from this blogger Nomadic Matt, who wrote Why I’ll Never Return To Vietnam. Sure, people reached their hands into my wallet, I was quoted triple what things were worth, and was cajoled to tip double what the original experience cost, but that felt pretty par for the course in this part of the world.

However, Matt understood that as well, for him it was the attitude behind the scams that turned him off. Similarly, I noticed a harder attitude here, which came across in a few different ways, like in the treatment of animals.

A Mosquito vs. a kitten

In Thailand, a monk described his attitude changing when he started following Buddhist practices. His friends could see changes in him, but he said they particularly teased him when he caught a mosquito in a glass and let it go outside rather than killing it. The image struck me as rather sweet. A lot of times I could feel the gentleness of people in Thailand. One day I tried to reverse my scooter while my kickstand was still down. In only flip flops, the rusty stand tore at my foot, ripping it open. I immediately panicked about infections and wound care. However, the host of the bungalows where I stayed carefully cleaned and dressed the wound, even coming around my place the next day to make sure it got a repeat cleaning.

I tell these stories because they stand in contrast to a couple of experiences that made me want to leave Vietnam before the whole 30 days were up. These are of course personal stories. Vietnam is a treasured destination for many people, but for me, I was soon ready to jet out of the country.

While we were eating some instant noodles at a restaurant near the end of the loop, a young girl carried a dangly little orange kitten as she crossed to her dad. How cute! The kitten meowed, hoping for some leftovers, and our guide mentioned that people keep cats hungry so that they will hunt mice. I looked over to see the little cat perched up on the chair reaching to try to get some of the scraps left on the table. At the same moment, the dad saw him too, and before I could process, wound back his leg to kick the baby cat. The little furry boy spun out, catapulting over the other chairs, and I was too stunned to do anything. I get that animals have different status in different cultures, but it still seems wrong to me for a grown adult to intentionally harm a defenseless baby anything. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

Lake House In Cat Ba

On the last day of the loop, we thought fondly of massages we might get to help us relax our sore backs and tight shoulders. I went for just a quick one before hopping on a bus to Cat Ba. At one point, the masseuse put a hot towel against my neck— a really hot towel. I adjusted it and tried to just focus on the massage instead of the heat.

After a bus ride, ferry ride, another bus ride, and a taxi boat, I finally arrived at the lake house in Cat Ba. I didn’t realize from the booking that there would be no WiFi, or cell signal at all, but that’s fine, this is an adventure! However, it was winter, winds were blowing over the cold water, and the host didn’t speak any English. The kayaks were too heavy to paddle against the wind, and the food was cold and fishy.

Don’t let the sunny photo deceive you, the sky quickly clouded over and I bundled up.

The Unfortunate Wound in Ninh Binh

If that wasn’t enough… after dinner I pull my hand away from my neck, thinking it is bleeding. But when there’s no blood, I realize a blister on the back of my neck just popped.

1. Gross.

2. I can’t really see the blister or treat it because there are no mirrors or even soap on this house boat.

3. I’m too shy to ask one of the other tourists if they will bandage up my weird gross blister thing. So I run some water over it but otherwise leave it alone.

After reading that description, it will likely surprise no one that it got infected. A couple days later, when I realized, I went to a pharmacy in Ninh Binh. The pharmacist said no when I asked about antibiotics. She said just use the antiseptic. She smeared some on with her bare hands and slapped a bandage over it, but she didn’t wash her hands first and I started to get really anxious about the whole thing.

At that point, I have a choice to make, I can take a 10-12 hour night bus to De Nang, a spot that’s been highly recommended to me nearer to the middle of the country, or I can go back to Hanoi and take a flight somewhere else. I check where I can go, and Taiwan catches my eye. I know Nomad Numbers lived there during the pandemic and loved it, and it’s on the way to Japan, where I plan to go next. It also has world class healthcare according to the resources I look up just in case this infection spirals out of control. I decide to leave Vietnam early.

It takes 4 different pharmacies to get the right medications. At most of them, we have to use Google Translate to communicate, and I find it a little amusing when the woman turns her phone screen to me to ask, why are you like this? The song by Orla Gartland (featured in Netflix’s Heartstopper) runs bleakly through my head.

A little too-hot towel really put a damper on this trip.

A Redeeming Last Day

When I get back to Hanoi, I book a spot in a different part of town. The receptionist greets me kindly and gives me a detailed map of all I should do.

The room is tucked away from the street, so it’s peaceful and quiet. The hot water runs steamy.

At the night market, I try to buy an orange and the woman wants to sell me 1 kilo of oranges. When I manage to communicate that I only want a single orange, she hands it to me, “It’s a gift,” she says, “Happy New Year!”

I stop at a new pharmacy to check if they have more antibiotics, because I looked up the dose and realized I didn’t have enough for a full course. This pharmacist finds everything I need, takes time to help me get it all, and grabs extra things like gauze and tape and salt water tablets. I leave uplifted, feeling optimistic.

Free Pho and Hugs

I slip into a quiet side road where three women are serving pho, naked chickens lined up on their stall. I sit down and wait, taking it all in for a moment. Lights are strung across the street for the New Year (which occurs in late January for Vietnam), a family eats nearby, and I crane to see what other people are eating so I can point for my own order (the most efficient ordering tactic I have discovered so far).

“Are you waiting for someone?” The man eating at the table across from me asks. I know it looks that way because I’ve been sitting for a little bit now, and I probably have to go up to put my order in.

“No, I’m wondering what to order. What do you have?”

He explains that he has dry pho, where the soup comes on the side. He tells me to let him know what I want to order and he’ll ask for me. I get what he’s having. He shares that he lived in New York City for the last 15 years, but recently returned to Vietnam to work. We talk about his culture shock. He says it took him 6 months to get used to the scooters in the city. I think about how overwhelmed I’ve been the last couple of days. No wonder, it takes time to get used to new places, but as a backpacker you don’t have that much time.

My food arrives, and it’s so delicious that it’s hard to focus on our conversation. Each bite is perfection. The soup is rich in flavor, the chicken soft and juicy, the noodles just the right size. He finishes his food before me and stays to chat a bit more, then gets up to leave. He pays and turns to say goodbye to me. “I’ve paid for your dinner. It’s something we do here in Vietnam.” He reaches out to touch my arm.

After he drives his scooter away, the kindness bumps shoulders with the general dismissiveness I’ve experienced the last couple weeks. Emotionally overwhelmed, I lose it and start crying at my table. I’m sure the ladies are bewildered why I’m crying over my free meal. When I try to pay it forward they tell me it’s not necessary and wave me off.

When I check out of the hotel, I spend time talking with the receptionist. She talks about her business, her new marriage, the expectations on her as a new wife during the New Year celebrations. My driver is late, so we talk longer, trading stories. When my driver finally arrives, I turn to grab by bags and she surprises me by giving me a big hug, wrapping her arms around my rib cage from behind. I awkwardly pat her hands, surprised and touched by the gesture.

Would I Come Back?

I would be interested in returning to Vietnam someday, especially to visit the island in the south and the nomadic hubs like De Nang. Resetting my expectations would help a lot, and knowing where the best food is ahead of time. Also, Vietnam strikes me as a place that is more fun when traveling with friends. Though I met friends along the way, they were mostly coupled up. My experience is that you have to be a lot more self-reliant in Vietnam, but sharing the journey with a friend could lighten the load. It would also be nice to have company for the long bus and train rides to get to the far-flung parts of the country.

There are so many places to see, and even the bits that I saw in Vietnam were quite beautiful. But with the memories of mediocre meals, kicked kittens, and an increasingly worsening infection, I boarded my flight to Taipei.

What Do You Think?

Did I give up on Vietnam too early?

Have you been to Vietnam? Did you love it or hate it?

Where is somewhere you had high hopes for but were let down by?

Share in the comments below!