Vietnam the third: Day 4, Hanoi, Ninh Binh

Summer in Vietnam. It’s hot. Very hot. If yesterday just about knocked me over and all I did was queue, today proved that I am quite possibly congenitally unable to learn from the past. We’d booked a day trip out to the south, Ninh Binh, the first capital of Vietnam. I at least got a bit wiser, taking every opportunity to stash a few drinks in my bag, and making sure I imbibed frequently, as the weather forecast was for slightly warm. 36 degrees and humid kinda warm. Not at all comfortable for any known living creature I’d care to associate with kinda warm (even the roadside cows were unhappily melting under the trees).

First stop on the tour was the first Emperor’s temple, a wonderful old Buddhist complex with big doorway steps and random woodwork at head height. We got a little bit of the history: as it was told, the first emperor had 5 wives, however the fifth wife poisoned him so she could marry her boyfriend. The kingdom then went bad until the son took over. Firstly, and in my most humble opinion, the first emperor obviously had issues to be unable to be satisfied with just one wife, or was incredibly possessive, or something. Poisoning might be a bit harsh, but he was kinda asking for trouble. Polyamory is fine and dandy when the power is equal, but when you have a name and your wives are just numbers, uh uh. Secondly, not sure why the wife gets all the blame. Maybe it wasn’t her plan? Afterall, a quick google points out that the boyfriend was the top general, and they never plan coups, right? There’s something a little bit fishy in this, and not just in the coi pond.

Putting aside my “master ancient Vietnam history lesson in 5 minutes” course, the temple is quite impressive, full of intricate little details, stone carvings and engravings that have survived 1,000 years of all manner of crap.

This was followed by the offer to climb a nearby 80 metre tall hill. Ninh Binh province is referred to as the Halong Bay of the land, as it’s filled with many impressive limestone hills that rise abruptly from the ground. These hills were the reason for the first emperor selecting Ninh Binh as capital, as they provide a good line of defence. If the 80 metre hill was any indication, few armies were going to try to invade that way.

I’m sure I’ve written about this before, but what is it with asian cultures and very very steep steps? At about 180cm, I’m somewhat taller than the average Vietnamese, Thai, Laotian, or Cambodian, but in each country have found that many good things can only be reached by climbing steps that are 20-30cm high, and of similar width. My knees do not love this cruel and unusual punishment. Give me wide gentle steps and I’m happy. Call it pride, or stupidity, but I at least aimed to climb as high up the hill as the women selling fans and umbrellas who looked old enough to be Uncle Ho’s grandmother. Sure, this is the same thinking that led to the Vietnamese defeating the French and the US, but I knew better, right?

I did manage to get as high as the highest seller, but baulked when shown the last 10-15 metres wasn’t steps at all, but a free rock climb. Maybe with the right shoes and on a day when I wasn’t leaking perspiration out of every pore, but not today. So we’ll call this one a draw. There was a nice view from where I got up to.

Next stop was lunch, at a massive dining room eatery where all the tours stop. All credit to Vietnamese cuisine, it wasn’t totally beaten into submission by mass production, there was a tomato-based tofu dish that had merit, and something with beef that managed to retain a bit of flavour. The goat however seemed to be about 75% gristle. There were also crispy skin fish pieces, nicely crisp, a bit lacking on flavour, and full of little bones.

Next stop was to do a 2 hour sampan ride, where L and I shared a boat with a couple of Vietnamese ladies. The rower, who looked old enough to have fought the Japanese, had me sit almost in the middle of the boat to keep it balanced, otherwise my fat Tay arse was giving the sampan a decided lean. Ballast settled, the ride was magnificent, through several caves with a low enough clearance that we had to duck in places, and around amazing limestone towers and greenery. Photos don’t do the Trang An area even the slightest justice, it’s amazingly beautiful. In some ways it’s better than Halong Bay, as it’s relatively untouched in comparison (when we did Halong in 2014 the tourist boats were just about running into each other. Trang An though we were never alone, was far more calm and close to pristine.

Fortunately it seems that Hollywood hasn’t managed to fuck this up, despite filming some scenes at Trang An in Kong: Skull Island. For this we can be grateful. Trang An is beautiful, breathtaking, and you should probably go there, just not all at once.

The final stop on the tour was another tall thing to climb: Mua Hang peak. I’ve no idea how tall it is, google hasn’t really helped, but everyone says it’s about 500 steps. It’s a mix of some short steps and lots of tall ones, so I’m going to say 120 metres. Again, did I learn from the morning’s lesson? Or yesterday’s? To be fair, I had at least kept my fluids up, I must have consumed about 2 litres of water. So, in another case of my mind writing cheques for my body to somehow cash, I figured I could give it a go. If girls with stuffed toy backpacks, and couples in nice clothes looking for photo opportunities could do it, then surely I, a slightly overweight guy with substandard knees at the wrong end of his 40s could too.

Numbers. 500 steps. The 27 year-old tour guide said 15 minutes to climb. And at the top is 1 amazing view. 36 degrees. 50%+ humidity.

So, putting one foot in front of the other, I started. L, not being an idiot, instead chose to tour the lotus garden at the bottom. One foot in front of the other. About a third of the way up, just about ready to implode, I paused, and took some pictures of the countryside, of smart L wandering among lotus blossoms. Then I kept going. About halfway is a point where climbers can go left to the higher peak, or right to the lower peak. I went left. And because it’s Vietnam, a bit further up was a concession stand selling drinks and souvenirs. I kept going.

Somehow, an apparition of me, made entirely from sweat, made it to the top of the peak. Legs burning, no pore unused, lungs hurting too much to even complain. I proved to myself that I can still do this kind of stuff, at the same time reinforcing that I really need to do more exercise in general (even though I do 30 minutes a day, it’s hardly training for this sort of crap). And I did it in 22 minutes.

I could barely hold onto my phone to take the obligatory pics from the top, between my aching arms and slippery hands, but I did manage the obligatory near-death selfie along with some more beautiful pictures of the landscape below, the river that we had sampanned, the fields and amazing peaks.

Then, with the internet fact that more people die after summitting Everest than on the way up, I hauled my fat butt back down those 500 steps (stopping to buy a Coke at the concession stand cos I needed a sugar injection, as well as a Coke No Sugar for L as it’s not very common). And going down was harder, trying not to land too heavy from the big steps in order to look after my knees as they had started to complain. By the time I got down, even my sweat was sweating.

Things to remember: on day tours like this, it’s wise to pack a spare shirt. I didn’t, but all I can say is thank you linen, for at least limiting the smell. Next time, spare shirt.

Back at the hotel, it was time for a well overdue shower before heading out for a bit of dinner for our last night in Hanoi. While we were interested in a few places 15-20 mins walk, we figured on resting the legs and staying close, so we took a quick stroll in the old quarter until a Bun Bo Hue place caught our fancy.

I know, we’re in Hanoi, not Hue, and we’re not even going there on this trip to be able to compare this with the local offering, but it’s a good soup that we hadn’t had yet on this trip. The Bun Bo Hue was definitely on the rustic side, the beef pieces included a chunk of liver and a bit of hoof, in addition to the regular cuts of meat. The soup was full of flavour, though not as spicy as others, a solid beef broth doing a lot of the talking. The liver was, very surprisingly, subtle, soft, creamy, and not strongly overpowering.

As we ate, we could hear the sound of thunder, and then some heavy rain. It’s the tropics afterall, these things happen. There was a bit of a commotion outside, but as we were at the back of the restaurant, we didn’t really pay much attention until a young boy at an adjacent table yelled out. We looked up, and around, and then down, and noticed water had started pooling on the floor. I could see that at least some of the water appeared to be rising up through a crack in the foundations. One of the restaurant staff cane out to where we were, had a look, and then, probably wisely, unplugged the fridge that was sharing our little pool.

We got up to leave, the water maybe 1cm deep, and then realised that the earlier commotion was the restaurant slamming its rollershutter to keep the water out, and the rest of the restaurant was a short step down and maybe 7 or 8 cm deep. So there was no choice but to sit back for a while and wait.

When the shutter was raised, it revealed our end of the street was flooded maybe 15-20 cm deep, but the owners pointed up the other way, where it was a short wade to high land. We’d have to go the long way back to the hotel, but not knowing the vietnamese word for boat, there wasn’t much choice. (Apparently the old quarter had about 90mm of rain between 7.40-9pm, some parts were 60cm deep.) I was surprisingly less wet by the time we got back to the hotel than I was after climbing Mua Hang peak.

So that was obviously Hanoi’s way of saying goodbye. Tomorrow it’s an approximately 6.45am start as we head west into the hills for a few days in Sapa. Thank you Hanoi, it’s been an experience as always.