Do you like my be-pearled twinkle toes? Such a lovely gift for a blogger looking for fine pearls, thanks Jo D!

Next to them are some insect repellent (v necessary) and a green orange. Because, well that’s how it is here. The other one, which I ate earlier today tasted good but a bit more like grapefruit than orange.

Anyway, off to do the cooking now! Hoping dinner works out well…

As I have been travelling, it has been really important to keep my mobile phone charged up. And for all you naysayers who hate people using phones all the time – yes so do I, but there’s a time and a place, as with most things.

At the advice of travelling friends I downloaded the Maps Me app before I came away, and frankly, without it I’d be really stuck. It shows your location and you can use it to plan journeys on foot or bike or car or whatever. It tells you a route and estimates how long distance wise and time wise it will take you. It’s like Google maps, but it only uses GPS, so you don’t need WiFi or to be online to use it at all. As I only have WiFi internet access, whenever I’m out of range of the place I’m staying or a café with WiFi I can’t use the internet. (Well I could, maybe, but it would cost a fortune.) Travellers avoid this by getting a new SIM card in each country they go to (most of the airports offer them to you on arrival out here). But I’m here to be here, so I’m happy to not have WiFi except when I land up somewhere.

The only drawback with Maps Me is that it doesn’t have such comprehensive information about public transport, and sometimes locations might be missing or misnamed, so I have needed to double check with Google Maps while I have WiFi and then drop a pin into the Maps Me map so I can see where I’m going when I’m offline. But sometimes (perhaps because travellers use it more), it’s easier to find home stays on Maps Me than on Google Maps.

Just while I’m on this topic, even in really out of the way places here there is WiFi in the cafés and homestays. And my top tip for travelling in Vietnam is if in doubt re WiFi codes, try 123456789. I don’t know if it’s because the communist thing has imparted a strong sense of community, or whether it’s not understanding what a password is for (it is probably very perplexing if you’re not from a western individualistic culture after all), or maybe it’s because it’s just too hot? Too hot to worry about having to remember/find out/for café staff to be asked about different passwords? Or because people don’t have access to the sort of technology where it remembers your password for you? But all the WiFi passwords so far in Vietnam seem to be 123456789. Except my hotel in Hanoi, which actually had the 6 missing (a typo? Do the staff end up apologetically explaining that as their mistake, I wonder?!).

Another travelling tip: bring a powerbank so you can recharge devices on the hoof. You don’t want to get stuck somewhere and not be able to find your way back or show your digital ticket. For the uninitiated (as even my Silicon Valley brother was – oops, correction; apparently he just had never heard the word “powerbank” that we use in the UK for this), this is what a no messing powerbank looks like. It’s pretty heavy, but worth its weight in gold. You can see it has two USB inputs so you can charge two devices at once (I also have a small tablet with me). So far it retains its charge really well (although the initial charge up took a long time.):

Anyway, all of this was to point out that my phone periodically needs a recharge and so do I. I find all this planning and checking of maps and so on quite tiring. So this morning I am recharging my phone and recharging myself with a slow morning at the homestay.

Awww! Just as I was cutting my fingernails (nails and hair seem to grow disturbingly fast in this humid climate, for some reason), I had a visitor who came in through the window. Just briefly, exploring the room and then she was gone. She’s like a tiny and wilder version of our household cat Xena (Warrior Princess, presumably still scared of the cat flap 😆):

I think animals are wise; they only show up when you are still enough for long enough to not be a threat. Here’s another poetic passage about that, and how it might relate to us as human beings that I love:

“The soul is like a wild animal—tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is to go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek.” (From Parker J Palmer https://books.google.com.vn/books/about/A_Hidden_Wholeness.html?id=oRrrRQ-6UdgC&redir_esc=y)

Maybe our soul, or whatever is most deeply essential to us, will only show up when we are still enough to welcome it? That resonates with my experience, anyway.

One of the things I learnt pretty fast on my cancer journey was how to stop. I had no choice really. Having stopped for long enough, gradually, I noticed things that were important to me made themselves known to me more clearly than before. Perhaps because I didn’t have the energy to hide from them or ignore them. My tentative suggestion is that it would surely be good to engage with this without getting seriously ill? I’m meeting some people on my travels who are engaging with it without being seriously ill, so it must be possible!

In the afternoon, I walked back to the homestay, asked if they could do some laundry for me and then borrowed a pedal bike to cycle down the road in the other direction to nearby Hang Múa.

My faithful steed for the day👇🏼 No back brakes but hey who needs brakes?!

I know this hat looks silly, but the locals really do know best. While you’re cycling, the updraft creates a really refreshing breeze, and pulls the hat off your head, while the ribbon holds it on securely, and the breeze cools your head. Also, what little contact it does have with your head is not sweat inducing because of the light natural stuff (bamboo? Or some kind of reeds?) it’s made of.

I parked the bike for the princely sum of 10000VND (about 34p), and went off to explore on foot. This whole area is really well laid out, with lots of places for you to sit and appreciate the stunning views across the rice paddies and lotus lake even before you climb the steps up the Dancing Mountain.

I enjoyed a contemplative walk around the lotus lake while hardly anyone else was around, then made my way up the steps.

Remembering the lesson from the Winchester Mystery House and the extra shallow steps Sarah Winchester had put in to help her get around, I was grateful when occasionally on the way up they’d done something similar:

View from the top of Dancing Mountain:

This👇🏼 is the lotus lake with the curving then heart shaped walkway that I’d walked on. If you look closely you might be able to see some people walking it:

There’s nothing quite like travel to help you grasp that it takes all sorts to make a world. Watching this guy (and several others) reminded me of that fact 😲:

With all the stone steps in the wall, sometimes this place is known locally as the “Vietnamese Great Wall”, like the Great Wall of China, I guess. (But much much shorter!)

The story about how this came to be called Dancing Mountain is about one of the ancient Kings, the Tran King, who visited Hoa Lu (the ancient capital city) to build Thai Vi Temple. In the story, he often visited a cave under a bell shaped mountain where he enjoyed the royal concubines dancing and singing. So he named the cave “Dancing Cave” (Hang Múa), but now locals use the name to talk about not only the cave but the whole area.

I asked several people for help today. That’s a lesson I’m gradually learning. The French guy to hold the row boat still so I could get in and out more easily, the homestay lady if she could do some laundry for me, and when I was at the very top of Hang Múa, I asked a guy if he could get my phone out of my bag pocket for me as I couldn’t reach it reliably with my bag on my back and I was balanced pretty precariously. Then I asked a lady if she could put it back for me once I’d taken this photo of the dragon at the very top, whose claw I touched:

At lunchtime I asked the French couple who came and sat with me what other places they’d been to and where they were going next. They recommended Hang Múa, which decided my plans for this afternoon, and I was able to recommend Trang An boat trip, which they were going on to after lunch.

Oh and I also asked a Vietnamese photographer/tour guide about the immaculate Asian woman who I saw at the top of all those steps, dressed like a bride in a long flowing white dress, with lots of beautiful lace on it and high heels. He said your wedding is important it is something you hope to only do once. I asked him whether this lady had actually just got married (the guy dressed like a groom seemed to have very little to do with her), or whether perhaps she was modelling the dress for a fashion magazine or clothing company. I said I thought it looked very difficult for her to climb all 500 steps dressed like this (in fact I saw oodles of Asian women dressed beautifully at sights like this, somehow managing to reach the top still looking immaculate, posing for endless photos taken by their boyfriends or friends or maybe other photographers). He tutted and said the people I should feel sorry for are not the brides or models but the photographers, having to climb all 500 steps all the time to take the photos! That’s when I found out he was a photographer (now retired from taking wedding pictures though, which I think he was thankful for!). He showed me a beautiful picture of the rice paddy we were sitting in front of, which he took just as the evening sun threw a shard of warm golden glow across it. He definitely has a gift!

Tonight, Canadian Zach has arrived at the homestay. We all had dinner together, in the course of which both he and I said we were kind of missing cooking, with all our travels. Our hostess instantly said, “You can cook here if you like – tomorrow?” We established the elements of a dish we reckon we could make between us… so, tomorrow night we’re on duty!

I also had a lesson in how to use chopsticks. I need more practice. But it looks like I’ll get plenty. Maybe by the time I leave Asia, I’ll be a pro? I thought I was doing well, but my technique, while ok with noodles, does not really work with rice.

Wow. What a day! After a rather restless night trying to work out how to stay inside my mosquito net while also turning the air con on and off, I was woken at 4:45am – yes you read correctly – by what sounded like an hour long radio broadcast, including rousing patriotic sounding music followed by quite a bit of talk (maybe from an esteemed Party Secretary or something?). If I get the courage, I’ll ask about it at dinner soon.

I got up early (well I was already awake wasn’t I?!) and walked to the start point for the boat trip. This homestay is so great location wise! A couple I met on my first day recommended this trip and said to get there early to avoid the crowds. The pictures don’t do it justice but here they are anyway…

The lovely French lady in my boat, who a guy gave some food to so she could drop it in for the fish:

The temples here are all devoted to esteemed political/historical Kings and leaders. I only discovered afterwards that you’re not supposed to take photos!! There were a lot of sweet things being offered at these altars. I find the whole seemingly uncritical veneration of leaders here really strange. After all, I come from the nation that brought you Brexit. And a gazillion other shameful political moves. I guess this is a very British thing (well, to correct that, a very middle class left leaning British thing at least), but I feel uncritical acceptance of any human leader is probably not a good idea. Hey, I’m even up for criticising God, and I’m a vicar! (I reckon if God is God, God can take my criticism, anyway, and I increasingly subscribe to the Rabbinic notion that the asking of questions is probably more important than answers, and the word of God is there to be haggled over, rather than simplistically swallowed hook line and sinker.)

I felt quite at odds with the temples, but then I turned around and faced this awesome greenery, and felt drawn to prayer myself. Not worship of human beings, but of the One who made all this, and also to reverence for the creation itself.

I think this might have been an area for some kind of tea ceremony? I’m not sure whether that is a thing here, but it looked like the right sort of set up, maybe?

The trip was three hours long and took in 9 caves (which we were rowed through, including quite a few ancient stalactites, the occasional glitter of some mineral deposits or crystals or something) and three temples to esteemed leaders from the past. By the end, the humidity was really starting to get to my phone, producing some interesting special effects on those last few photos!

This was a lovely, gentle and peaceful morning. The guy rowing us had a lot of work to do (he rowed a long way, surprisingly fast). His English wasn’t great, but that didn’t matter as he was silent for most of the trip, which seemed an appropriate way to greet such green splendour.

The couple in my boat with me turned out to be French, so we spoke a little in French and a little in English. And he helped me in and out of the boat, for which I was very grateful! They also told me that this area was used in the making of the second King Kong film apparently. Well, there you go.

Rush hour:

Lotus lake (if you look carefully you might just see a Buddhist monk (or a guy dressed as one) rowing in these pictures. There was a film crew trying to film him. I also saw a couple who looked like they’d just got married posing for pictures, and some of their guests too.

All this is about 10 minutes’ walk from where I’m staying.

Ach! A cheeky little motorbike honk snuck into the end of that video, but it’s nothing like Hanoi. Aaaand breathe… 😌💕👌🏼

I’ve arrived in my homestay near Ninh Binh. This is the view at the bottom of the garden and my room for the next few days. And my hostesses have cats 😊. And on the doorstep are more caves and lakes and cycling and walking trails than you can shake a stick at. Wow. Thanks Antonia! Good recommendation.

The taxi driver couldn’t find it, but between us, using both our phones for directions, we got most of the way, and then I decided to get out and walk the last little bit as he was looking nervous about such narrow roads. (Clearly he didn’t go to the Hanoi school of driving! 😂) It was lovely to wander into this little village on foot with just a backpack, actually.

Right. So I’m off to explore…

The rest of my day was spent mainly walking towards things but not managing to get to them until after they had closed or were fully booked. Doh! I was disappointed about the water puppet theatre which I would have loved to see. With all my money and banking issues, I somehow managed to miss exactly where it was. (When I realised it was just behind me, I understood how I’d missed it as there was a huge speaker blasting out dance music right next to it, which I had been steering well clear of for some time.) Anyway, the water puppet theatre is a traditional folk art thing and looks something like this, I gather:

I also missed out on the Ho Chi Minh complex and botanical gardens, though I did walk all the way there (just arrived too late), and also I gave up trying to get across the road to the Temple of Literature and surrounding gardens, the traffic was so terrible. Of all my near misses, that’s the one that I feel desolate about. Fancy not being able to enjoy one of the sights of a city because you literally cannot find a safe place to cross a road. I feel sad for Hanoi about that. And I am wondering how many road accidents there are here per year, and how many pedestrians are injured or even killed in them.

Starting them young 👇🏼🚗 🚙😢:

I just googled it. Apparently 14000 people (of a population of 95.5 million) die in road accidents in Vietnam per year, and it’s the leading cause of death for 15-29 year olds. In the UK in 2016, there were 1792 fatalities from road accidents (of a population of 66.5 million). I am not great at numbers, but I reckon that’s pretty telling.

Anyway some cheerier images to end with:

(Look at those wires! 👆🏼😳)

More communist pride 👆🏼

Here,👇🏼 you can just see a couple of families sitting down to eat on miniature plastic seats by the side of the road. At a certain time of the evening, many streets were lined with people cooking and eating outside, selling what they were cooking up in huge pans to customers, as well as eating it with friends and family. I wanted to get a better photo because it’s so distinctive, but it felt intrusive somehow, particularly after I saw a poster saying, “It’s a culture not a tourist attraction”.

Although I missed out on some things, I still had a great day, and I walked 9.7 miles (15.6km) if my phone is to be believed.

Tomorrow I’m up early as apparently a shuttle bus will come and pick me up from the hotel to take me to Nimh Binh, my next stopping point. How anything that could be described as a “bus” will be able to get anywhere near this hotel, I do not know. Well, I do, but I prefer not to think about it too much!

Time for sleep.

After having a look at the opera house at the posh end of town (and noting that Starbucks have sited themselves there, just down the road from the stock exchange and a Prada fashion store), I made my way to the Hoa Lo Prison museum. This was a really good, if somewhat disturbing way to begin to find out about Vietnam’s more recent history.

Most of the museum recalls the lives of the political prisoners who were imprisoned here when Vietnam was under French colonial rule 1858-1954. The prisoners were mainly imprisoned for their loyalty to the Vietnamese communist cause, and for the work they did as revolutionaries, trying to resist French occupation.

The prison was purpose built on the site of Phu Khanh village, which had been famous for its handcrafted pottery. The French moved all the locals (48 households) out to a different part of the city and dismantled and moved Chan Tien Pagoda too in order to build the prison, which the regime had dire need of to keep up with its punitive rule.

The museum justifiably waxes lyrical about the heroism, determination and ingenuity of the prisoners, who organised themselves incredibly well and managed to teach one another all sorts of useful things, even under the noses of the vicious guards. All while enduring horrendous conditions, inadequate space, food and clothing and lack of latrines and so on. Having escaped (there were a few successful escapees) or after French colonial rule ended, many of the ex prisoners from here became significant leaders in the communist party.

The prisoners organised protests to get better conditions – hunger strikes and even once staging a protest by not wearing their prison uniform, but performing all their tasks naked, as a protest that they only had one set of clothes so when they washed them, they had nothing to wear. After three days of this, some local bigwig was brought in to try and sort it out. He demanded they get dressed, to which the prisoners’ elected spokesman (who could speak French) said something like, “All that we require is that you treat us with the dignity that befits the nation of France”. The next day all the prisoners had a spare uniform as they were supposed to.

There were various horrendous forms of torture used in the prison. In the mid 1890s, the French brought guillotines over to Hanoi to use on the revolutionaries who were sentenced to death. They staged the executions in front of the main door of the prison which they opened just in time so all the prisoners (as well as the general population) could see what was happening to their fellow inmates, as a deterrent.

I couldn’t help wondering whether this was some rather warped, deep seated act of revenge on the part of the French regime against the communist revolutionaries in Vietnam. The revenge really being paid forward from the time when French revolutionaries had used the guillotine to avenge themselves on the French aristocracy a century earlier. Violence does seem to beget violence. It’s a thought, anyway.

There was one section of the museum devoted to the American pilots who were captured and imprisoned here during the Vietnam war (1964-73) too. It makes the point though, that then Hoa Lo became knicknamed “The Hanoi Hilton”, as the way the Americans were treated was a darn sight more humane (by the Americans’ ready admission) than how the Vietnamese communists had been treated by the French.

One of the loveliest things was the almond tree in the prison yard, whose branches, fruit and leaves were regularly used by prisoners to make medicines to heal each other’s wounds from the beatings and illnesses they suffered with. One prisoner who was also a musician managed to fashion a pipe from one of the branches another prisoner procured for him while the guards’ backs were turned. The almond tree is still flourishing now. Another example of how we wreak our havoc and destruction and yet the good earth endures.

I was impressed by the amount of information there was about female prisoners here, and by their incredibly brave and self sacrificing actions. There were stories of female prisoners who continued their revolutionary work from within the prison. One of whom had encouraged her husband to take up an opportunity to serve the Party in China, and consequently never saw him again. She remained in Vietnam, studied medicine, then later was imprisoned for years for revolutionary activity at Hao Lo, separated from their little daughter, and dying of typhoid having caught it from her fellow prisoners while she nursed them.

The end of the exhibition includes some stuff about the importance of working for peace, and the pride of some of those American pilots who have worked politically for good relations between the two nations since the end of the war (including Senator McCain who was imprisoned here and ran for President in a couple of elections not all that long ago, though he has since died). It also says the Vietnamese prize peace always.

But in the end, the take home message is really all about the almost deified status of the communist revolutionaries, as good examples of bravery, commitment to the Party and determination. Vietnam’s flag is still predominantly red, if my emojis are well informed. 🇻🇳

From Hao Lo I made my way to a recommended Vietnamese eatery, and indulged in this Hanoi speciality:

I searched the extensive menu fruitlessly for anything that was just vegetarian (I could’ve got a plate of green vegetables, but that was about it). As Shiv had said, I could have said “Today’s my vegetarian day” and they might have managed to give me something appropriate. I could have, but on this occasion I didn’t. Here was my delicious main course. The orange sauce was very spicy indeed: