Caroline is a Cambodian French who's been traveling with her husband through northern Vietnam, avoiding massive tourism like I do. We exchange our travel stories, but theirs completely overshadows mine; from all around Medetirranean down to Niger, even out to the American West which we agree that is one of the most distinctive and wonder-abundant terrains anywhere, and I feel lucky to reside close to (note to self: need to explore North America. Maybe on a motorbike). The more time I spend with the lovely couple, however, the closer we are brought back to Belleville, Paris; where they live and the place I fell in love with. We end up talking for the majority of the morning, or rather I end up talking their ears off all inspired by their stories and pictures. While the rain clouds don't seem to be going away soon, I cannot let myself stay within the ant-filled walls and a spotty wifi connection. Although the cost of extending my stay in the north was miniscule (compared to, say, Paris) I gotta make my 5~6hr motorbike roundtrip worthwhile. I pull out my trashbag raincoat and roll out - first to Bich Dong Pagoda, the closest POI (except for Tam Coc which is within minutes walk and slammed with white folks).
Next morning for some odd reason I wake up at 3:30am, unable to fall back to sleep. I have been aware of ants marching into one of the beds, so I figured they might've been crawling around my skin while I'm unconscious. Then I see them spawning out of my backpack, I admit that I freaked out and had to reorganize everything I had inside which takes a good half hour then before I know the sun is on the horizon. So I decide, instead of taking advantage of a relatively clear sky to head back into the city, that I hit another spot; Trang An aka "Ha Long of the inland" which is only a 15min ride. Early enough to avoid the massive crowd, I get on a boat with a young Vietnamese couple who came in with 4 cameras ready. This end up being a 2.5hr excursion including a few stops at pagodas and temples, and is worth every dong and minute I spent. On top of crusing through the breathtaking canyons of limestones, you go through a handful of low caves where you literally have to duck for a minute or 2 just to avoid cracking your head open. And at the end of every one of these caves you are treated with indescribable views of massive mountains. Other than other tourists spewing amazement in whatever languages they speak, it is quiet. Also, the mad skill and stamina on the guys and the gals that row these boats; no clue how they navigate the boat in the narrowest of the cave routes while scolding our dumb asses to duck, sometimes paddling with their feet almost on their backs. I try to help by grabbing the tourist oar and sweat, then it hits me - I could be doing this as long as physically capable, living nearby humbly and making just enough wages manning these boats, shooting shit with English-speaking tourists and maybe making music on the side after hours...but it might just be my wandering heart. The escapism. The fantasy. Or that I have not been working out at all. My heart was definitely pumping once at the end.
Once I get back on the motorbike though, I am paying the price of having pushed my old system to its limit that I am seldom aware of. I do admit that, already at the start of another 2~3hr ride northbound to Hanoi to return the bike and catch a flight, I am pretty wiped. But once I get on the road the sun comes out, whipping on my back with the Vitamin D that I needed to boost my immunity, or draining whatever the minuscule energy that I have left. Then comes back the rain cloud, dropping massive drops of Southeast Asia onto my bare shoulders. I need to pick up a shirt with some sleeves on, which I had forgotten to pack in my half-counscious state when we left Sai Gon. So I stop by at a local supermarket and do exactly that, meanwhile the rain becomes more intense. The next 2 hours I kept my head down and focused on the road with Kraftwerk "Tour de France Soundtrack" in my earbuds. Much like the city ride, this is another case of real-life video game moments where all kinds of obstacles come at you from every direction; huge potholes on the road often with muddy water, dogs, chickens, locals pushing food carts, pedestrians trying to cross, busses and trucks passing each other, swarms of other motorbikes, cops stopping traffic for no apparent reason, toll booth who yell at you cause motorbikes are not allowed, so you turn around and drive wrong way while behemoth of busses and trucks honking at you head on etc. and the rain never stops. I legitimately thought I might not make it.
Upon arriving in Ha Noi, I grab a 4-wheel uber and pass out until the airport. The flight is delayed an hour so I grab another nap, but I am a horrible napper. I cannot. Once I'm out, I'm out for hours. Can't do cat naps, or the ideal 20min power naps that every productivity blog suggests you do. I'm a deep sleeper. So when I have to wake up in the midst of my REM sleep, I'm useless. Stepping off the craft, dragging my way out to Sai Gon streets, I make a crucial mistake of using Grab, an Indonesian-based ridesharing service/app, let along Grab Motor. Guess I was trying to save 3 dollars, but this backfires. Somehow Grab app reads the address from Google Maps incorrectly, so my driver on a Honda Dream 100cc goes off to an opposite direction. I stop him and find out about the glitch, but the even bigger glitch is that Grab app does not let you cancel or change the destination once in transit. And the driver does not speak a word of English. My phone is almost dead and my exhausted brain cannot deal with Google Translate which is less than half-useful anyway. So we park on the side of the road, the driver calls the tech support to cancel the ride, he hands me the phone but the tech support has the thickest of the accent making him unintelligible to me, 45 minutes after we manage to book another guy, so this poor driver waits around until the next guy comes to us which surprisingly takes another 20min. By the time I roll back into my lovely Sai Gon home it was past midnight, and I spend next couple of days nursing a cold.