The Travelling Life of Silvan Colani
April 2005 - North-West Vietnam
Given more civilized trips in the past few months, I had the urge for another adventure. I've been to Vietnam on a number of previous occasions and I always had a good time. From an article I read in a magazine a few years back I was keen to discover the North-West of the country.
Originally I envisaged this as a motorbike trip - similar to my visit to Laos two years ago - but since I was traveling with female company this time, I needed to come up with a more civilized mode of transport.
Hiring a car would be the obvious answer, but there was no way I would venture into the Vietnamese hills in some shabby Korean 1.2-litre tin box. Instead, through some advance planning, I managed to find somebody who would rent me an Original 1975 Willis Jeep, left over from the Vietnam War. Now that's a car!
Indeed, the car looked everything I expected it to when our travel agent picked us up in it from the airport: no doors, no roof, all but the tires in original condition - including the big white star on the hood! While not unexpected, the lack of a roof was a bit of a concern because the weather forecast for the next five days was: rain! Anyway, nothing we couldn't solve with a raincoat...
Driving from the airport to the city, the jeep was handling reasonably well - the steering was a bit wobbly and the brakes clearly didn't have ABS, but it ran smoothly enough - until we ran out of gas at half distance! The guide was sufficiently embarrassed and quickly organized some fresh fuel supplies (the spare tank was empty and leaky).
There were further obstacles to overcome before we could embark on our adventure. My international driver's license suddenly needed to be translated into Vietnamese, which would probably have taken about two years and, anyway, we were advised to take along the company driver to solve any potential problems along the way - mechanical or of bureaucratic nature! While I didn't relish the idea of a backseat driver (literally), I eventually had to give in to this compromise.
Thus after a day of raincoat shopping, foot massage, some excellent food in Hanoi and having filled the car with 300,000 dong worth of gasoline, we were off on our Jeep - Vietnamese flag flying proudly from our antenna (the yellow star eventually washed off in the rain, leaving only a red cloth!)
Our destination for the night was Mai Chau, some 135kms or 3 ˝ hours drive from Hanoi. Once we left the outskirts of the capital behind us the terrain became hillier and refreshingly scenic, despite overcast skies. The jeep chugged along nicely on the flat parts, but struggled a bit uphill in third gear. A motorbike would have been perfect, but four wheels had its benefits too.
Mai Chau lies in a beautiful valley and is inhabited mostly by ethnic Tai people, originally from Laos or Thailand. We stayed in their traditional stilt houses, which was nice enough although it felt a bit touristy - particularly the 50,000-dong-per-head song and dance, which we couldn't really refuse since it was held right in our living/dining/sleeping room. The girls were happily singing a "ding dong" song and I was wondering if they were making fun of us parting so easily with our hard-earned dong (the Vietnamese currency).
We awoke surprisingly refreshed after a night on the hard wooden planks. It rained overnight ("the monsoon arrived yesterday", we were cheerily informed on arrival), but now it was dry again. The car started effortlessly, which I figured was a good sign for our day's journey to Son La, some 189kms down the road. But first we stopped for another 200,000-dong worth of fuel, after which we couldn't get the Jeep started anymore! It seemed like the battery was flat or the starter plug weak, but being a banker I don't know much about these things. A little push eventually got us going again.
We headed further into the hills where the temperature dropped steadily. Luckily I invested some dong into a woolen sweater back in Hanoi. And just as the scenery was getting better and better, it started to rain. Ahhh, thank god for those rain coats! While Mei was looking sufficiently fashionable in my "Mountain Hardware" parka, I was looking like a smurf in my Hanoi-blue plastic sheet. But it didn't stay blue for long, since the open wheels kicked up so much mud and water that I was soon covered in a mix of brown and gray. The windshield was blurred by rain on both the in- and outside and while the wipers had some effect outside I was using a cloth to constantly clean the inside. All of this while changing gears and heading downhill at 40mph. Hmmm, five days of rain... this is going to be interesting...
The driver was also still worried about the non-starting starter and was constantly looking out for a sufficiently qualified garage, which he eventually spotted in Moc Chau. Soaking wet and covered in mud I pulled over into their yard, anticipating a short fix to the problem, not expecting this to be the end of the road for our Jeep less than 24 hours after departing Hanoi. But that's what it was! After three hours of the assembled garage crew fiddling around under the hood, replacing a 1975 starter with a more recent Japanese version with no discernible effect on the problem, I considered our options: driving an incident-prone, push-starting, roof-less war relict further into the remote mountain regions in pouring rain for another five days may be considered a ground for divorce in many civilized societies - and I'm not yet even married!
So I decided to call in reinforcement! We'd leave the driver behind to sort out the Jeep, take a bus to our next destination (Son La) while Hanoi would send a new jeep to meet us there next morning.
After having been rudely rejected from eating in a nearby restaurant (do we smell that bad?), we bought some chips and waited for a bus to complete the remaining 120kms of our journey. Having always laughed at travelers going places in a cramped bus while I was enjoying the freedom of my motorbike, I didn't miss the irony of me standing on the roadside in the rain trying to flag down a passing bus!
A bright yellow/blue one eventually took mercy and stopped. "Get on!" the conductor/doorman/concierge of the vehicle said in Vietnamese (I guess), "but how?" I wondered aloud, peaking through the doorway. A minibus the size of the notorious green/red Hong Kong variety and probably licensed for 16 to 20 passengers was packed to the rim!!! The doorman got out, our bags and we somehow got in and we were off before the door was closed again. Our bags vanished under somebody's feet, the doorman ordered some people move forward (sitting on the handbrake or thereabout) to make room for Mei to sit and everybody complied happily. Nobody spoke English and despite conditions even sardines would call cramped, everybody was cheerful and accommodating. I counted 32 heads in the bus - and that was before two additional passengers got on (oh yes, but one got off - through the window because he couldn't reach the door). Thankfully, the driver was a sensible man and we all arrived in Son La in one piece.
However, maybe because of the day in the rain and on the bus, or the night in the gritty hotel of this gritty town, or maybe because it rained again, I didn't feel very motivated. In fact, I was contemplating to abandon the mission and turn around. But fortunately Mei would have none of it - not after sitting on that bus for two hours! She was determined to keep moving on, not giving up because of a bit of rain.
So we continued our journey on the new jeep, with a slightly altered itinerary. We would skip the detour to Dien Bien Phu, site of a decisive Vietnamese victory over the French colonialists in 1954. Instead, we would head straight for Lai Chau on the way to our main destination, Sapa.
The new jeep was a world apart from our previous friend - 20 years makes a huge difference in automobile technology! With a roof, but without the big star on the hood, it basically looked the same - just not as cool (but dry, instead!!). But it packed a lot more 'oompf' and handled much more easily. It also had a working horn, which came quite handy in the fog.
While the challenge of the previous day was first to dodge traffic on the way out of Hanoi and then to drive in the rain, today's initial challenge was the fog. As we were climbing higher, visibility continued to deteriorate. At one point I could hardly see ten meters, all the while carving along mountain edges and honking for oncoming traffic. Luckily there wasn't much traffic and we eventually made it safely down to Tuan Guan for lunch. With the weather improving considerably in the afternoon, the challenge for the next stage of the journey was of a different kind: navigating 98kms of a bumpy road built by the French in the 1920s, which obviously has not seen much improvement since.
But while the four-hour journey (for 100kms !!!) was very rough particularly for my passengers, it was the most scenic part of the entire trip. No traffic, unspoilt landscapes, rice terraces on end and excitable children along the way who'd jump, grin, wave, shout or simply stare at these foreign faces bobbing through their villages. Putting a smile on their faces as they shouted "bye bye!" over the roaring engine was worth all the pain of the previous days.
While the guide slept happily in the front seat despite bumps the size of a whale, Mei in the back was more worried about falling over the cliff. I was driving at my most sensible, but there was just no way avoiding all the potholes and slipping and sliding through the mud with no traction control to speak of. In the villages or hamlets - which looked like a South-East Asian version of the Lord of the Rings - you had to look out for the dogs, pigs, chickens and oxen, while waving vigorously at the assembled townsfolk. The villagers were all from different ethnic backgrounds, with their colorful costumes mixing wonderfully with the bright green of the rice terraces.. All-in-all a spectacular day, which we ended in a suitably nice hotel (the Lan Anh Hotel) in Lai Chau, where the locals played an exciting game of badminton in the yard (that's VSPN for you...)
Day 4 of the Hanoi-Sapa Rally started with a power breakfast of fried eggs with baguette, a banana shake and a can of Buffalo Energy - the local equivalent of Red Bull! And a tire change! Apparently yesterday's bumpy ride had taken its toll on a rear tire, which we had promptly changed. The sun was out and it looked like the weather had finally turned in our favor. The hotel boy and guide busily washed the mud off the jeep, in preparation for a day in the sun.
We headed out of the beautiful valley in which Lai Chau is nestled along the Da River ("Black River", apparently, but it is rather brown) in bright sunshine, crossing bridges and slowly working our way further uphill. The driving was great on a well-paved road a world away from yesterday's 'dancing road'. Our guide was keen to do some of the driving, which he normally did on the excuse that a police post was soon ahead and therefore he should be on the wheel. I never saw any police and we certainly were never stopped and given his erratic driving style I was keen to get quickly back behind the wheel. I was paying for the car and fuel after all!
Driving into Sapa was a funny experience: it felt, looked and even smelled like a typical mountain resort in Switzerland or France. Lots of pine trees, a big main square with a Catholic church, a small lake surrounded by hotels and French villas and fantastic mountain vistas. It was St. Moritz of Vietnam!!! However, instead of Italian and Russian high-society snobs we found mostly colorful H'mong and Dzao ethnic people and a load of backpackers. Sapa clear4ly caters to the latter with hotels, cafes, Internet access and even an English pub. But it is all very laid back and relaxed.
We stayed at the Green Bamboo Hotel, a cozy place with excellent views of the valley and Mt. Fancypants… I mean, Fansipan. The following day we went for an easy hike through the rice terraces down in the valley and spent a lazy afternoon in some of the cafes, sipping cappuccinos, eating lemon tarts and playing Scrabble (I still don't think "WARP" is a proper word…). We booked dinner at the fancy Victoria Hotel to treat ourselves to some fine French cuisine (they also serve Swiss fondue and raclette so I treated myself to the latter to complement the Vietnamese Alpine experience!)
We got up early on Friday as we had a 380km drive back to Hanoi in front of us. We departed in bright sunshine but soon descended into thick fog. In Lao Cai - the next big town where Vietnam borders to China - the guide again insisted on taking the wheel (the invisible police again!) and promptly took a wrong turn. I pointed this out but he insisted it was the faster way. But not only was it slower (because the road wasn't built yet - it was mostly mud!) there was also no gas station in sight (or they were closed). I suggested we turn around, but he insisted on going on. I swear I knew what was coming, and I was furious: we ran out of gas! Again! Ironically, he handed me the wheel about 100m before the last drop of fuel dripped through the engine. There we were - in the middle of nowhere. I had to step away from the vehicle to avoid a physical confrontation with the guide! He eventually went off on a passing motorbike, returning with enough fuel to get us to the next gas station. We didn't lose all that much time, but nobody spoke a word until lunch!
The road conditions gradually improved. One thing about the Vietnamese roads that is at the same time impressive as it is annoying is hat every kilometer is neatly numbered on a white stone together with the destination of the road. At least you know you're on the right way, but when you're going at only 40-50 km/h the numbers decrease frustratingly slowly. 185km, 184km, 183km...
Driving in the countryside is relatively straightforward. Traffic is light and apart from the occasional bus charging down on your side of the road, the major task is to avoid school children on bikes, pigs, oxen, dogs, and chicken. The thing about chicken, as you may know, is that they always cross the road. No matter whether they are looking away from the street as you approach, they will eventually turn around and run straight into your path - like some suicidal Chicken McNugget! Unfortunately I did hit a bird at one point, which the guide insisted on taking along for lunch. Bird flu, anybody?
The new Jeep handled pretty well along the whole way, despite some significant understeer and lack of grip in certain corners. Third gear wasn't always easy to find, but I eventually go the hang of it. Top speed was 50mph (ca. 80km/h) on a flat downhill stretch.
The most important instrument on a car on a Vietnamese street - like in most Southeast Asian counties - is of course the horn. Generally, the bigger the car/bus/truck, the bigger the horn. Some lorries had a horn that can blow a small car right off the street! But the most annoying horn was what I termed the "Daewoo Honk", fitted to most Korean cars and buses, which made a horrible three-tone monster noise. The horn on our first Jeep didn't work, which was a significant handicap, because the horn is a multi-functional tool that is used for everything from shooing motorbikes out of the way to waking sleeping dogs in the road.
A typical overtaking maneuver would work as follows: You approach the target at blistering speed, tooting once to announce your presence. Irrespective traffic and visibility, you then swerve wildly into the opposite lane, tooting twice to announce your overtaking intention. Your overtaking target will reluctantly move to the outside of the road, forcing lesser traffic (motorbikes and bicycles) into the roadside ditch. If you encounter oncoming traffic, you flash your lights vigorously and continue tooting until the maneuver is complete.
As we got closer to Hanoi (76kms, 75kms, 74kms...) the roads became better, flatter and straighter - but at the expense of increased traffic. Overtaking was now only for the seriously suicidal. In Hanoi itself, a completely different traffic regime is used, which I termed "Go With the Flow". The rules are simple: (1) Never stop, unless the road is a dead end or your run out of gas (it happens!). (2) With motorbikes outnumbering cars 10 to 1, weave yourself through traffic like a big green turtle in a swarm of slimy sardines. (3) If you encounter any problems, honk!
After collecting six days worth of mud, dust and dirt in every pore of our body, our adventure came to a glorious end on the doorstep of the Sofitel Metropole Hotel, Hanoi's best luxury hotel, built in 1901 in an exquisite French colonial style. A simple credit card ensured that we were not refused entry, despite our grubby state. And you should have seen the joy on Mei's face on the sight of a super-comfy bed, proper shower and a TV that has more than two channels! Awwh, such simple pleasures!!! After washing all the dirt off my body, I was a full kilo lighter on the scale! We treated ourselves to a massage and a fantastic French dinner in the highly recommendable Green Tangerine restaurant, in a restored villa in the old quarter.
In conclusion, Vietnam's North-West is absolutely worth a visit. It's incredible landscapes and beautiful winding roads make it ideal for a motorbike trip, but a rickety old US Jeep is the next best choice. (Third choice would be to hire one of the widely available Russian jeeps, but they will turn into a sauna on wheels in hot weather.) And I must give credit to Mei who put on a brave face throughout (almost) the entire journey. I think she got more 'adventure' than she asked for and I'm sure our next holiday will be to a much more civilized destination. But in hindsight (and under sufficient pressure) even she will admit that it was a great experience and something to tell the grandchildren!
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