A primer on Vietnam, for the cautious traveller
*On Halong Bay, Hanoi, and the quiet surprise of a country that meets you halfway.*
There is a moment in Hanoi, usually on the second morning, when a traveller who arrived nervous notices that the woman at the next table is eating breakfast with a familiar quietness. A bowl of clear broth. A small plate of greens. A glass of warm water. She is in no hurry. Outside, the city is already at work, but inside the hotel the morning is moving at the pace of a slow conversation. The traveller looks up, slightly startled, and realises the day ahead has been arranged so that nothing will be rushed.
This is the Vietnam we have come to know, softer at the edges than its reputation, and gentler with older travellers than most people expect.
Many of the people we speak to hesitate before saying yes to Vietnam. The hesitations are familiar, and we take them seriously. Will the food agree with me. Will anyone understand my English. Is there too much walking. Is it safe. These are not small questions. They are the questions of a thoughtful person, and they deserve thoughtful answers rather than reassurance.
On the matter of food, the country is kinder than its photographs suggest. Hanoi, in particular, has a long and unhurried relationship with Indian travellers, and we have come to know its Indian kitchens well. North Indian thalis, simple South Indian breakfasts, Jain meals where needed, all are within a short walk of the hotels we choose. Lunches by Halong Bay are taken on a boat where our travellers know what is on the plate before it arrives. Nobody is asked to be brave at the table. The point of a journey is not to test the stomach.
On language, Vietnam has the easy advantage of a tourism industry that has been welcoming travellers from across the world for decades. Hotel staff speak English. Our local guide speaks English, slowly and clearly, and travels with us throughout. Our Good Radius tour manager flies with the group from Delhi and stays with the group until Delhi. There is always someone to turn to. We have noticed that the worry about language tends to fade by the end of the first afternoon, replaced by something closer to amusement at how much can be said with a smile and a small gesture.
On walking, we have designed the days the way our travellers travel now. The Old Quarter is seen partly on foot and partly from the seat of a cyclo, with the guide walking alongside. The Temple of Literature is approached gently, with benches found in advance. At Halong Bay, the transfer from coach to boat is short, and the boat itself does the moving while you sit. There are no pre-dawn starts. There are no staircases that arrive unannounced. Hotels are chosen for their nearness to the day’s first stop, so that the morning begins without strain.
On safety, Hanoi is one of the calmer capitals in Asia for a traveller of any age. The traffic looks alarming from the pavement and turns out to be quite orderly once you are inside it. Our guide crosses the road with the group, not ahead of it. At night, the streets near our hotel are well lit and softly busy. We do not arrange anything that asks our travellers to be out late or far from the room.
What surprises people, in the end, is not the difficulty of Vietnam but its ease. Halong Bay, seen from the upper deck of a quiet boat with a cup of tea in hand, is almost embarrassingly simple as a pleasure. The limestone islands appear, one after another, and there is nothing to do but look. Hanoi, walked slowly, reveals itself as a city of small courtyards, lake-side benches, and old men playing chess under trees. The country does not perform for the visitor. It carries on with its day, and lets you join.
We do not promise revelation. We promise a journey that has been thought through on your behalf, the room close to the lift, the lunch table booked, the guide who knows where the steps are. The point of travelling in a small assisted group, at this stage of life, is that the worry is held by someone else. You are free to notice the morning light on the water, and the woman at the next table eating her breakfast slowly, and the small pleasant surprise of finding that you are, after all, exactly where you wanted to be.
For the cautious traveller, Vietnam is not a leap. It is, the slow way, a step.
