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A full day of travelling lies before me on what is really an elongated journey to Sydney. It begins with a 20 mile trip from Hanoi back to Noibai airport. From here, 3 hours sees me return southwards to Singapore – where heavy thunderstorms close in as we approach, looking more black and angry with each drop in altitude. We do, however, touch down safely in pelting rain.
While the Communist propaganda on TV reminds me of the country I am in and a proportion of decorational elements inside my hotel are native to it, in reality it is never far detached from what it is – a multinational hotel chain. The comparisons are therefore striking each time I step outside into all that’s unfamiliar, such as to the Old Quarter, or peaceful Hoam Kiem Lake.
I take a day out of Hanoi and visit Halong Bay on the Gulf of Tonkin. The drive, while long at 3 hours, is an ideal opportunity to catch a glimpse of the pretty Vietnamese countryside and small town life, as well as to be quizzed on life back in democratic Europe by an intrigued local tour guide. Finally I alight near the town of Haiphong, and prepare to board my ship for the day.
The foray on the senses that one experiences from being in Vietnam does not dwindle in intensity the longer one stays. Nor can the magnitude of the visible difference with home (wherever that is) be justifiably articulated. It is nothing less than another world – one that had me engrossed and captivated. But Hanoi also has what some would call ‘typical tourist sites’.
It’s pitch black outside and the streets are finally quiet after another night of partying. This is the morning I leave Singapore – and apparently i’m not the only one. A South African and English girl from my hostel are heading off to Indonesia and Australia respectively, so we all share a white knuckle taxi ride to Changi Airport. Where is it I’m going? The Socialist Republic of Vietnam.
