Well, we’re off to the races now. On Wednesday, August 26 we said goodbye to our students, packed up, and shipped out of Korea and on to Vietnam.

Hanoi

Working our way North to South, we hit Hanoi first and were immediately struck by the busyness of the capital city. The profusion of motorbikes and dearth of traffic control mechanisms left us feeling stuck in a real-world game of Frogger. By now, we barely hear the constant roar of car horns, but it was deafening at first. At times there are so many “moto-bikes” flowing through the streets that they look more like schools of fish than anything else. Even still, there were hundreds more parked on the sidewalk. It’s as if each resident owns two bikes: one to drive, and one to park right in our way.

We quickly learned that the sidewalks here don’t really live up to their name because they are, under no circumstances, used for walking. They are for sitting, selling, talking, eating, parking, sleeping, peeing, welding, dancing, driving, dumping, playing, working, lounging, living. They are not for walking. Despite that, we spent three days wandering around the busy streets enjoying the architecture, food, and atmosphere. Hanoi—and Vietnam in general—are full of charming and quirky shops and cafes with plenty of cheap and delicious food. We know we’re spoiled when we balk at the thought of spending $5 on a nice dinner.

Halong Bay

From Hanoi, we went spent last weekend in Halong Bay on a big junk sailboat that was only a sailboat in the academic sense. It had tall wood poles and large pieces of cloth that may have once pulled it forward, but we didn’t get a chance to see them in use. We’re not sure the crew knew much more than how to refuel the diesel engine and kick the throttle into high gear, but Dad I’ve got an idea for when you retire.

It felt great to be near water again though and it was a stark contrast to the stress and hustle of the capital; we went kayaking through limestone cliffs, swam off the back of the ship, ate lots and lots of seafood, and spent the evening on deck watching the stars come out. Tourism is already going strong in Halong Bay, but for now it still feels like an escape. It was quiet and we rarely saw any other tourists apart from the 7 passengers on our big boat. We’re just glad we got there before these enterprising capitalists exploit vacationers’ nascent demand for jet ski rentals and banana tubes.

Sapa

In an attempt to avoid sleep at all costs on returning from Halong Bay, we immediately boarded an overnight train to Lao Cai in the North. The province borders China and the makeup of the people is very different from the people in Hanoi. In Lao Cai and Sapa—where we stayed—there is an interesting mixture of Vietnamese, Chinese, and local tribal minorities. Sapa is a hill station high up in the Eastern Himalayas that the French developed as a getaway from the heat and humidity of Indochina’s lowland cities. The town and its surrounding hills feel like another planet, as serene as any place in Vietnam. And the landscape is absolutely breathtaking with thousands of terraced rice paddies and mountain springs.

As you can imagine, such natural beauty brings a fair number of tourists to the area, and some of the locals have seen a market opportunity. Women walk around town and through the fields in colorful costumes selling handmade clothes and linens out of baskets on their backs. They are—in a word—persistent, but always friendly and we were able to learn a great deal about their lives from talking to them. It’s amazing how much English these women have picked up just from interacting with the tourists. The ladies we met were almost all trilingual, having spoken knowledge of Vietnamese, English, and their own tribal dialect. Yet, most of them never went to school and cannot read or write in any language.

Given the income disparity between ourselves and most of the local residents, we always have a little crisis of conscience when it comes to bargaining. It’s a way of life here in Asia, but we haven’t yet perfected our strategy; we’re always trying to strike a balance when it comes to getting a good price. On one hand, we don’t want to be taken advantage of just because we are foreigners (we’ve had enough of that already, thank you very much). But on the other, we have to remember that we’re haggling over such small amounts that really mean a lot more to the people here than to us. Holding out for 5,000 VND makes a difference of only about 30 cents, and that buy a lot more here than back home.

In town, we stayed at a little boutique hotel on the hill with smashing views of the mist-shrouded mountains. The place is run by an Australian expat named Pete who fell in love with the area and decided to spend his life running this non-profit hotel and doing what he can for the community. Everyone he hires—from the chefs and maids to trek guides and managers—are from the low income (very, very low income) minority groups that live in the area, and he also runs several charitable programs to help with schools, hygiene, and farming.

Have nots

After reading about Pete’s community efforts, we brought along some crayons, notebooks, and stickers from South Korea. The day we arrived at the hotel, Pete was heading to the school to conduct some interviews with the kids and talk to the teachers about what they need most (answer: supplies, boots, and clothing). He told us to jump on the back of a motorbike and come along so we could meet the students and teachers and give them our things personally. All the children seemed so happy and full of life, but many ran around without shoes or even pants, never mind proper schoolbooks. This place was a world away from our school in Korea, but if we’ve learned anything from teaching, it’s that children are the same everywhere. So despite the fact that these kids probably need shoes more than stickers, we hope the things we brought them will give them some small measure of joy. Visiting them was certainly a very moving experience for us.

From the school we were joined by a girl Pete had hired as a guide from one of the Black H’mong villages and she took us on a 5 hour trek through the hills. The area around Sapa is perhaps one of the most beautiful places on Earth (I think we’ve said that already). Huge mountains are covered with miles and miles of lime-green rice terraces. Kids ride around on water buffalo with piglets, puppies, and chickens at their feet. The people here eke out a living by subsistence farming and selling their crafts to tourists and their animals in local markets. The homes have dirt floors and no windows, but we did see the occasional satellite dish peeking over a rooftop pumpkin patch and heard a pop song or two blaring from a cellphone. Considering their state of living in this modern world, we don’t at all begrudge them these small conveniences.

Onward

After Sapa, it was time to get on a plane and leave Northern Vietnam for the rainy mid-section. Off we went to Hoi An.