Weaker men (and women) may have stayed home.
It’s as if COVID and Typhoon Yagi were in cahoots, teaming up together to try and sabotage our repeated attempts at traveling to The Land of the Blue Dragon. But they were no match for the drive, determination and nimble travel planning skills of His Royal High-maintenance (HRH).
When Japan Airlines notified us the day before our flight that our second leg to Hanoi was being inexplicably cancelled, HRH immediately rerouted us through Doha on partner airline Qatar. This definitely solved the lack of airline-issued pajamas dilemma that we suffered by flying JAL (can you even imagine?) and also allowed us to spend some time in an airport that will always have a special place in our hearts
but… it didn’t solve the problem of the most intense Category 5 Tropical Cyclone to ever hit Northern Vietnam making landfall just hours before we did. So we ended up spending a bit more time than anticipated in Doha because of flight delays and ultimately landed in Hanoi at about 5am (which was probably the same time the people on the JAL flight arrived). But they didn’t have any fancy pjs to change out of.
Getting to the hotel was a challenge as well, as our driver had to circumvent newly formed rivers and fallen trees.
Our one night at Metropole Hotel became three when we learned that, thanks to Yagi, our Ha Long Bay cruise was sunk- figuratively, and probably even literally. The financial losses to the cruise industry there as a result of this storm exceeded those caused by Covid. So while this was disappointing for us, it was much worse for them. As the self-proclaimed Travel Plus-One, I steer clear of itinerary planning anyway, so there you have my pro travel hack for avoiding disappointment when plans go awry-just don’t bother knowing about them in the first place.
Here we were, four years later and our originally planned itinerary to Vietnam/Laos was still being redefined. These extra unexpected days gave us a chance to explore Hanoi before the REAL fun began.
We earned our Cross The Street Without Dying badge,
drank all kinds of Vietnamese coffee,
ate Phở, Bahn Mi and Bun Cha, learned that my Patagonia raincoat might be fine in an Amazonian rainforest but not so much in a tropical cyclone, and that we probably should have brought rainboots. Through our jet-lagged haze, we took a guided tour of our historic hotel and toured the bomb shelter built in the 60’s for hotel guests,
walked around the Hoan Kiem Lake,
through the colorful Old Quarter and explored the surrounding neighborhoods by foot.
After a while, we were happy to just hang at the hotel- at the spa or the cigar bar- as navigating the streets took years off my life- between the bikes, the motorbikes, the centuries old trees that were uprooted and blockading the streets and sidewalks, and what was left of the sidewalks being repurposed entirely as a parking lot or restaurant- fearing for my life was getting exhausting.
But the REAL fun began when we finally reconnected with the human inspiration for this Vietnam/Laos trip (that was now only Vietnam and soon to be NOT North Vietnam and instead mostly South Vietnam)- Régis Binard of Angkor Travel Photography!
Once upon a time, Régis was this guy we hired for a private photo workshop in Cambodia for a few days, but now he has been officially adopted as our Brother From Another Mother (ou notre frère d’un autre mère) . As the Plus-One, I confidently left all of the details and planning to the boys and I can, without a moment’s hesitation, confidently say they nailed it.
Régis partnered with Son (or you can call him “Mike” if that’s too hard to pronounce) from Momentlives Photography to put together two weeks of Vietnamese photography experiences and they rose above and beyond the challenge of having to pivot on an hourly basis in response to the weather. They matched HRH’s nimble. With the remnants of Yagi nipping at our heels, we spent the first couple of days visiting markets and villages surrounding Hanoi. Unfortunately this did not include the incense village or the rice paper village since it’s impossible for those villagers to operate during torrential rains and floods. Wet incense doesn’t burn very well. “Guess we’ll have to come back someday” was quickly adopted as the motto for our trip.
Our first photography adventure took place in a little village in the outskirts of Hanoi where they still make conical hats by hand. These hats are so functional it’s amazing they aren’t used worldwide. Protection from the sun or as a hands free umbrella it’s so nice to see that the craft of making these by hand still exists. As one who sews, I have the utmost respect for anyone who can thread a needle, let alone make those perfect tiny stitches by hand. They start with a wooden frame, shape the reeds to form the cone, cover the cone with layers of coconut or palm leaves and then stitch it all together.
Being “the village” that makes conical hats, these people have known each other their whole lives, and it looks to me like the most fun way to make a living- creating and hanging out with your friends and gossiping. This is probably the village I would have picked to live in. I think all that’s missing is a glass of wine.
Behind the scenes, Son and Régis were scrambling to turn our Northern Vietnam trip into a Southern Vietnam trip since the flooding and landslides pretty much wiped out the roads and the rice fields we traveled halfway around the world to visit. Plus-One me was slightly relieved because there was some chatter that traveling north involved riding on a motorbike. Bullet dodged.
If you really want to immerse yourself in a culture, you must visit a market. And to visit the market you must get there by 5am, or all of the good stuff is gone, including the good light for photos. We were up with the roosters to check out Long Bien Market and test out our street photography skills. It was still raining, needless to say, and in spite of flooded out streets and market stalls, those industrious Vietnamese were still hawking their wares.
That afternoon we braved the elements again for a couple more villages. First stop, the fishing trap village where the ancient art of crafting these baskets by hand carries on. Now you may come across similar iconic photos of this art in progress, or maybe even this exact setting. But you will NEVER come close to seeing images as soggy as ours! Boy did it RAIN buckets. The challenge of not only keeping our camera dry, but tackling the moisture, dew and condensation on our lens was not for the faint of heart. While our subjects were safely tucked under the porch awning, we threw all caution to the wind and just incorporated the elements into the scene.
Weather be damned- we had so much fun here and just rolled with the raindrops. We had no choice. This couple, and I’m only assuming they were a couple, were so gracious letting us invade their livelihood. One of the first questions asked in Vietnam is “how old are you?” There are many ways to greet someone and greetings are depending on a pecking order. Age comes with respect and growing old is an honor. I was happy they respected me enough to not ask because I’m older than I used to be.
We weren’t convinced that we had any photography left in us that day, but decided to give it one last go. Sometimes we didn’t know if we were soaked from rain or sweat, and eventually it didn’t even matter. Did you ever know how they make soy sauce? Neither did I!
If you are (un)fortunate enough to have neighbors whose livelihood involves the mass production of soy sauce, you may want to invest in nose plugs. P. U.
We expected this photo shoot to be a dud- once again due to the weather. The Soy Sauce requires stirring on a regular basis, but exposing it to the elements isn’t part of the process. This traditional process of making soy sauce is fading away for more efficient methods, much like the old tin can maple sap collection systems in the northeast. Whoever decided blue plastic tubing strung from maple tree to maple tree was even remotely photogenic?? Mass production is the way to go, baby. Big giant metal vats that facilitate the fermentation process will soon be all the rage so we were happy to witness this method while it still exists and did what we could here despite the deluge of rain. My camera was screaming uncle. While the images I got have that dreamy hazy look about them, I’m just going to tell you it was all part of the plan. In reality, that’s either how it looked and at the very least how I felt. So I’m good with it.
Funny tidbit about my camera…when we first met up with Régis in Hanoi for a little sip of something at our hotel, I was trash-talking my poor dad who I went on a photography tour to Ireland with in 2012. We landed in Shannon only for him to realize he forgot the camera battery to his really old Canon camera at home. Not an easy fix in rural Ireland, so he ended up buying a Nikon in a pharmacy in Westport to get him through the rest of the photography workshop (which for him turned out to be the next 4 days because he fell in a field and broke his neck. But that’s another blog). Well well well. Guess which apple didn’t fall far from the tree?? I left my charger working its magic in an outlet at home. At least I didn’t break my neck and luckily I was in a major city where I could buy a knockoff charger for $5.
From Hanoi, we hopped a plane south to Nha Trang in an effort to get the hell out of the rain and floods which had grown a little tiresome. It worked. While it was hot in Hanoi, it was more so in Nha Trang being that much closer to the equator (see, I learned something in geography class). I love the heat and hot weather, so no complaints from me, but my camera did not appreciate the temperature fluctuations and my clothes were a little stinky. My camera has seen better days, but unless I’m going to recommit to this relationship it’s going to have to do. Many NatGeo quality shots were lost due to my fogged up lens.
Nha Trang reminded me a lot of either Florida or the Riviera Maya. The salty air said we were definitely in coastal country. We spent the next week or so creeping north in our swanky ride through all of the off the beaten path villages your shutterbug heart could ever desire.
With the coast, comes salt flats. And with salt flats comes amazing photo opportunities.
We raced out here trying to beat the ominous looking clouds threatening us with more precipitation and getting in the way of the workers being able to do their job. Sometimes, those ominous looking clouds turn out to be the pièce de résistance. That’s French for wicked awesome.
The skies opened up, the workers raced to cover up the salt piles with tarps, and we began discussing dinner plans. When all of a sudden, the rain stopped and the sun began to set. I wish I could add audio here because there was no greater sound ever expressed than the joy and whoops of delight coming from Son. Every minute there were new colors in the sky, new rainbows popping out, new effusive utterances of elation. He was like a kid in a candy shop and his enthusiasm was worth the price of admission. It truly was breathtaking-no photoshop could ever compete with this evening.
This was a photoshoot that was going to be pretty impossible to beat. But we weren’t done trying.
Next up an early wake up call to poke around a fishing village. On one hand, it’s pretty impressive to see how up and at ‘em these people are at 5am. But when you remember that it’s a bazillion degrees by 10am, it kind of makes sense.
There’s work to be done
Moo-vement to get your body going
Fish to catch, prepare and sell
and treasures to pan for
With Son’s ability to converse in multiple languages, and both guys having an innate gift for engaging with strangers, we made so many new friends and had so many laughs.
Being a “minority” is an eye-opening experience and one that everyone should have the luxury of experiencing. “Luxury” because seeing how a community treats outsiders speaks volumes about that culture and is a lesson worth learning. Even though we couldn’t communicate verbally (or without google translate) the hospitality and friendliness of the Vietnamese towards us outsiders was beyond heartwarming. We look different, and they were fascinated by that and welcomed us with open arms (and a few giggles as the fisherwomen on the beach squeezed HRH’s muscle-y white calves).
That evening, Son was so excited to take us to the longest wooden bridge in Vietnam for sunset. At 2600 ft long, the rustic Ong Cop bridge is made of wood and bamboo and provides a shortcut across the lagoon for motorbikes and pedestrians and has to be replaced after each rainy season. For anyone who has a fear of bridges, this might not be your cup of tea. I do not have a fear of bridges, but I possibly developed one.
It was fun to see who and what came traipsing across this rickety, narrow structure while I clung to it for dear life.
I spent most of my time watching the kid below, tirelessly working for his daily catch.
But here’s my thing about photography “tours” or “groups”. HRH (okay…me, too) prefers private photography tours. But in any sized group, I feel the greatest challenge is to see things in a different way than the others. What I love about working with Son and Régis is that they lead you to water but only show you how to drink if you want them to. I enjoy watching them work- trying to analyze how they see and approach things but ultimately I prefer to spend time doing the total opposite of what they’re doing. Most of the time it’s a bad strategy but every now and then I strike gold. I do not have a technical mastery of my camera or photography in general, and doubt I ever will. I’m okay with that. But I can see something and know exactly what I want it to be- sometimes it works.
While probably no one will look at this image and spend time on it, I will say it may be my favorite (or at least in the top 5) of shots I took this trip. Maybe even my life.
This guy was down under the bridge free-diving for his dinner. We locked eyes and he gave me the typical Vietnamese welcome- a giant smile. I just happened to catch it. I love everything about this photo, but maybe most of all the fact that no one else saw it.
We lingered at this bridge long enough for the skies to open up again forcing us to seek immediate shelter and hunkered down until it was safe to cross back. We all piled into an open house by the end of the bridge waiting for the rain to stop. No one was home but shortly afterwards a few more people showed up, sat down and started talking to us (Son). I think it was actually their house. They didn’t seem remotely surprised by the fact that strangers were in their house. The rain stopped, we said goodbye and off we went. Never in a million years would that happen in the US.
By this time it was dark, so if I thought the bridge was scary in the daylight, this was a whole new level of scary.
I haven’t said much about our accommodations because we were on the go so much, we mostly stayed one night at each hotel before moving on to the next location. At most we only had a couple of hours to relax at each place before it was time to go explore. While they were all very nice, my favorite of the hotels we stayed at was Stelia Beach Resort because of my own little private pool out back where I had a couple of minutes to knit a few rows of the project I brought along. I am a sucker for a private pool. We were so busy chasing the light that we really didnt have time to do much more than stop to eat.
Which brings me to my next thought. If you know me, you are very well aware that I do not seek out food adventures. I am a self-avowed vegetarian as soon as I get off the plane and this trip was no different. Once again, I feel like I deserve any and all kudos for all of the food I ate that was not a piece of lettuce. However, I did try things…I did step outside of my comfort zone. I had coffee with egg in it, I had noodles with beef in it, I had fish soup. I managed to avoid tuna eyeballs and Red Hot Chili Peppers until I mistook one for a big hunk of lobster in a steaming bowl of fish soup and ate it whole. There’s a reason I ordered pizza whenever it was on the menu.
Another day, another sunrise photo shoot. This coastal village houses families who weave colorful sleeping mats from dried reeds. The growing, harvesting, dying and weaving process can be seen from house to house as you stroll through the town. The children were so excited to have visitors.
I loved this so much- maybe because I love color and texture and fibers and weaving and creating but I think anyone would have loved this experience. I truly could have spent all day here. Actually, this might be the village I would move to.
We ended up buying a couple of mats and managed to get them home on the plane with us. Though we really dont have anywhere to put them, it remains a great memory.
From there we swung by the home of a couple who make basket boats, woven from bamboo strips and coated in cow poop resin. These gorgeous vessels are slowly being ditched for the lower maintenance fiberglass version. Definitely not as pretty.
These boats are pretty iconic, and very functional, but rumor has it they originated back in the French colonial era when the French were taxing fishermen on their boats. So they said “Fine, tax our boats if you must, we’ll go fish in a basket instead”. Gotta love some ingenuity.
That evening a trip to another salt flat was foiled due to weather, so we decided to scout out a nearby beach village. There was definitely a buzz about town, maybe because of the paparazzi (Hi, it’s us! We’re the paparazzi, it’s us). Son decided we’d have a contest to see who could come up with the best representation of a Vietnamese coastal village. A winner was never chosen, but I saw some of the boys’ photos and I would have voted for them.
The buzz turned out to be the parade for the Mid-Autumn festival which is as if Halloween and Thanksgiving had a baby. Primarily a children’s festival, they celebrate with parades and lanterns, eating mooncakes and wearing masks. I can confirm that the mooncakes are worth eating!
One more fishing village
After a final morning immersed in watching women repair fishing nets by hand and by machine,
we tearfully said goodbye to Son, our new brother from yet another mother and buckled in for a 6 hour drive north with Régis to Hoi An. Six hours on slow roads was a doozy, but it was all part of our successful Yagi-dodging experience.
Well Hoi An was adorable.
We lost Son but we gained Etienne. Another French guy who came to Southeast Asia over a decade ago and met a girl. No wonder he and Régis are friends. We had one beautiful morning with great light in Old Town-another place I probably could have spent a lifetime in and shopped til I dropped, but it didn’t take long for the town to wake up and the tourists to descend and we hightailed it out of there. The morning light, the textures and the colors of Hoi An- wow. Just wow.
And then the storms came in again. We decided we all needed to dry out and just stay put that evening, but come hell or high water we would shoot a market in Hoi An in the morning. High water it was. Again- a soggy photo shoot that we made the most of, and used the elements to really tell a story.
If you can embrace the hustle and bustle of a market and find a way to make yourself invisible, it’s a really great way to feel the pulse and the vibe of a city. I love watching the interactions, bantering and bartering, and socialization so much I often forget I have a camera at the end of my arm. Life is being lived here to its fullest and it is so humbling to be able to sit back and observe it.
That afternoon was our last chance to shoot with Régis and Etienne. Once again, what we stumbled upon was going to be a bit of a crapshoot because of the weather and we were still battling the issue of condensation in our cameras. We came across people making the most of the rising rivers
Caught some rice noodles being made (with a frustratingly foggy lens). I think I’m going to call these images The Billie Eilish Photography Experiment. And maybe buy a new camera.
And caught one more market under a bridge before closing the chapter on our Vietnam photo tour with Régis and Etienne.
We were so sad to say goodbye to Régis but took comfort in knowing he was headed home to Cambodia where he would meet up with more of our family to share the beauty of his country with them. We also take comfort in knowing that our next photography tour with him is already being pencilled in. And if he’s reading this….it’s his turn to come to Boston ;-)
Though the photography part of our trip was over, we still had some relaxing to do. So we hopped on a plane and headed south again (this all made sense as part of our original itinerary) to spend a few days at Amanoi in Ninh Thuan, Vietnam. Now we’ve stayed at some pretty nice places before but I might have to say that HRH outdid himself on this one. I’m always a sucker for a private pool.
Hands down one of the top 3 of hotels we’ve stayed in, this was a perfect place to wind down after a couple weeks of going nonstop.
From here, we flew to Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City for one last full day of sightseeing before we began the long trek home. We deliberately had no plan for our day here, but Régis suggested we contact Adrien to see about another photowalk before we packed our cameras away for good. Love that idea- especially since we really get to see the best parts, the real innards of a city that way. Lucky for us, Adrien had some time and showed us some nooks and crannies we never would have found on our own.
Of course Adrien is French, and like Régis, is wonderful about “leading you to water” but only helping you drink if you want him to. He has an incredible eye for street photography, and like everyone we worked with this trip engages so easily with people that strangers instantly become friends. He can also cross the street like a boss.
We did some shooting without him in the morning
And got in about another 10,000 steps with him in the afternoon
Again, hard to capture unique images when in a group but here’s another one of my top two favorites from this trip.
I think my favorite images always have an element of humor to them. When I saw this happening, I was struck by the convergence of sticks being used as a means to an end. I did wait a bit for him to take that bite- and I bet it was worth the wait for both of us.
All good things must come to an end. Such a gorgeous country, from its bustling urban life to its tranquil seaside landscapes. While the architecture, cuisine and culture strongly define this country, the warmth and hospitality of its beautiful people exemplify the height of humanity.
Due to circumstances out of our control, there was so much we didn’t get to experience. But I just guess we’ll have to come back someday.