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<\/a><\/p>\nOur bus arrived and we threw our luggage aboard. We were setting off on our next five-day adventure in Ha Long Bay. The bus rumbled from Hanoi towards Ha Long. It was a rather bumpy ride, but fortunately it took only three hours \u2014 plus the time spent picking up everyone else along the way. The bus was packed to bursting point.<\/p>\n
Ha Long Bay was getting closer. From the coast, we could see the distinctive rock formations. Some looked like the back of a sea monster winding its way through the water. We’d heard some extraordinary horror stories about boats in terrible condition and far too many tourists crowded into the same place. So our expectations of Ha Long Bay weren’t particularly high.<\/p>\n
We were dropped off at the harbour, where all the boats lay at anchor, ready to welcome their next guests. Some were in better condition than others, but overall things looked reasonable.<\/p>\n We had quite a wait at the harbour before a small boat came to take us out to our ship. You learn to be patient in Vietnam. Information can be very limited, and sometimes you simply follow the crowd of tourists and hope they’re heading in the right direction. But eventually we made it aboard our ship, the ‘Golden Bay’.<\/p>\n We had feared the worst, but we were shown to a lovely cabin with a view, a bathroom, air conditioning and comfortable beds. Not much to complain about there, really.<\/p>\n We were going to spend two days at sea, with various activities planned for us. The first was sea kayaking. Christian wasn’t feeling his best because his big toe had become inflamed, so he was hobbling about a little. He stayed aboard while Sarah and I set off on our adventure.<\/p>\n For me, this was quite a step outside my comfort zone. Neither of us had ever tried sea kayaking before. But we climbed into a kayak and were given a few quick instructions on paddling forwards, turning and reversing. What I had absolutely no idea about was how we were supposed to get back into the kayak if we capsized out on the open water.<\/p>\n But Sarah and I were brilliant! We soon found our rhythm, and the kayak moved along at a good pace. From there we could enjoy magnificent views of the little rocky islands, which looked enormous, sheer and imposing from the surface of the water.<\/p>\n Two proud women returned to the pontoon \u2014 the floating platform where we had to hand back the kayak. We both agreed that it certainly wouldn’t be the last time we went sea kayaking.<\/p>\n From the very beginning, the atmosphere aboard was set for a party, with the music turned up loud. We soon started chatting to the other passengers. Many were backpackers travelling around the world, or around Asia. They travelled at breakneck speed, as though their goal was to see as many countries as possible in the shortest possible time. Talking with them also made us realise how much they were missing along the way, even when an experience was right under their noses.<\/p>\n We’re slow travellers, and definitely too old to travel at their pace. But we’re not too old to party with the youngsters and dance on the ship’s deck until dawn.<\/p>\n The following day we arrive on Cat Ba Island, a little later than expected. Unfortunately, we miss the ferry and have to wait an hour for the next one. Cat Ba Island is the largest and most populated island in Ha Long Bay. Like the others, it’s a rocky island. Cat Ba Town is a rather ugly place \u2014 although that’s a matter of taste, of course. There are tall hotel buildings, neon lights, loud music and floating bars in the bay to cater for every kind of tourist. Luckily, we’ve found a camp and hostel 12 kilometres outside town.<\/p>\n After one night in Cat Ba Town, we head out to our little retreat. We’re looking forward to a couple of days on the beach, just relaxing and enjoying ourselves. But oh, what a disappointment! The beach is mud, and the water is far out in the bay.<\/p>\n We check in at Woodstock Beach Camp, where the atmosphere is permanently set to ‘chill out’. There are hammocks, cushions and mattresses everywhere, where you can take a nap or chat with fellow travellers. The staff are travellers themselves, working here for a few months in exchange for food and accommodation. They tell us it’s low tide at the moment and that the water will return at 2 p.m. Even so, the thought of diving into the waves isn’t terribly appealing, because the water is full of plastic and jellyfish.<\/p>\n The place is full of other young people travelling around, and Sarah has a wonderful time with them. After our first night, with all the noise from the party, the ‘oldies’ are moved to a hut farther down towards the beach.<\/p>\n As it turns out, that’s absolutely perfect. I become terribly ill with a stomach bug and vomit more than I ever have before. The locals think it’s dehydration, and yes, perhaps they’re right. But a little later Christian also becomes ill with an upset stomach. After a couple of hours on the rattling bus, we’re back in our lovely ‘New York-style apartment’ in Hanoi. It’s a spacious apartment with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. And ‘it comes with a maid’ \u2014 she does the dishes, cleans the bathroom, brings us fresh flowers and washes our clothes. Oh, I love that concept!<\/p>\n Below are a few pictures of the neighbourhood in Hanoi where we stayed: the flour shop, the caf\u00e9, the lovely street-food stall and some scenes around Truc Bach Lake.<\/p>\n Our landlord is an artist and runs art courses, among other things. Sarah takes a life-drawing class and learns an incredible amount. He’s also very good at advising her on how to prepare her application portfolio for university. And our landlord is fascinated by spiders, too, so there’s plenty of common ground and the beginnings of what could become a lifelong friendship.<\/p>\n Sarah also finishes her other art projects in Hanoi. She has created a lacquer painting, using a technique particularly associated with Vietnam. In the local expat neighbourhood, she also meets an artist who paints on canvases made from lotus leaves. Sarah gets the chance to learn the technique and make a painting herself. She’s quick to connect with people and also joins a couple of croquis life-drawing sessions. She’s pretty impressive.<\/p>\n I have my own plans in place, too. I’ve signed up for the IELTS English-language exam and will spend time preparing for it. Christian is well under way with his dental treatment, so we all have activities lined up for our remaining weeks in Hanoi.<\/p>\n But then I come down with what seems to be the flu. I stay in bed, thinking, ‘It’ll probably pass in a couple of days.’ Instead, I get worse. We go to the local hospital, which is very close to where we live in Hanoi. After blood tests and X-rays, it’s clear that this isn’t just the flu. They want to admit me! Oh, the horror \u2014 I hadn’t expected that at all. I thought they’d give me a few pills and send me home. It takes some persuasion before I finally give in and agree to stay.<\/p>\n For the first three days in hospital, I drift in and out of a high fever. They tell me I have severe pneumonia. But the medicine they give me intravenously isn’t working, and I sleep for most of the day.<\/p>\n At first I’m alone in a two-bed room, which feels like a real luxury. But after a couple of days they come and tell me I’m being moved. I don’t quite understand why, but later a little girl is admitted to my old room, and I hear her screaming all night. So I end up feeling rather grateful, even though I’m now in a three-bed room.<\/p>\n At night I listen to the sounds people make in their sleep \u2014 farting, snoring loudly or groaning. All I want is for this to be over so I can go home to Christian and Sarah.<\/p>\n I’m sharing a room with a Vietnamese grandmother who has been admitted to hospital. Her entire family is with her, and she’s never left alone for a moment. Sometimes the room is crowded, and they all speak very loudly. The head of the family \u2014 Grandma \u2014 frequently tells off the children and her husband.<\/p>\n But I fall asleep. When I wake up, Grandpa is standing there with his bare belly and a big smile, saying ‘hello’. He gives me rice soup, and Grandma raises her index finger and says something in Vietnamese. Probably something about finishing it all.<\/p>\n It has a peculiar consistency, somewhere between soup and porridge, but I manage to get it down. Grandpa takes the empty bowl. A little while later he returns with a warm cloth and gestures that I should wipe the sleep from my eyes.<\/p>\n I sleep a great deal, but Grandma keeps an eye on me. She’s forever coming over to feel my feet to check whether I have a fever.<\/p>\n Grandma doesn’t use the toilet. She has her own potty, which she puts in the middle of the room before sitting down to have a poo.<\/p>\n I grow fond of them, even though they also irritate me terribly. They make so much noise and show no consideration for the fact that I have a fever and a headache.<\/p>\n After a few days they discover they’ve been giving me the wrong dose of medicine. They’ve prescribed what would be given to a Vietnamese woman, but I weigh quite a bit more than the small, slender Vietnamese women. They increase the dose and add another antibiotic. I’m now receiving six intravenous treatments every day, along with a whole lot of pills.<\/p>\n Things slowly begin moving in the right direction. But they’re reluctant to let me leave too early, because of the risk of a relapse. After all, we’re due to travel through Cambodia very soon, and that’s probably not somewhere you’d want to fall ill.<\/p>\n The hospital in Hanoi was OK and met international standards. But there have been moments when I’ve said, ‘I hate you,’ in Danish when the nurses came in with their syringes and couldn’t understand what I was saying. Many of the nurses don’t speak English, and they become very shy and giggly if they try to say a few words in English. Quite frustrating when you’re ill.<\/p>\n But how wonderful it is to have two fantastic older siblings, both able to offer professional explanations, good advice and so much care. It has meant the world to me that they’ve been there for me every day in cyberspace.<\/p>\n I’m amazed at how young both the doctors and nurses look. Some of those coming at me with needles look about Sarah’s age, and some of the doctors don’t have a single wrinkle.<\/p>\n But appearances are a little deceptive. Vietnamese people age remarkably well, and it’s difficult to guess their ages, even though Vietnam has a generally very young population.<\/p>\n The days slip by. At times I become that grumpy patient who’s constantly in a foul mood. I get tired of them not being able to explain what’s going to happen, or changing the way they administer my medication; tired of them forgetting the food I’ve ordered or bringing something different.<\/p>\n I’m getting a sense of what it’s like to be a foreign patient, and I wonder whether Danish nurses speak English and can communicate with people from other countries living in Denmark.<\/p>\n I’m still coughing quite a lot after eleven days of intensive medication, but my lungs have improved. Irritated as I’ve been with them, I have to say they’ve been skilled at looking after me throughout my illness. Now I just want to get out and go home to our ‘New Yorker apartment’. They agree to discharge me on one condition: that I come back on each of the following two days for intravenous treatment twice a day.<\/p>\n Just a day after finishing my hospital treatment, we say goodbye to Vietnam. It has been an extraordinary encounter, with so many things turned upside down more than once. We’ve spent a great deal of time in the urban jungle, seen both the beautiful and the ugly, and been sent all the way back to square one by illness, like in a game of Ludo.<\/p>\n Our next steps have changed somewhat because of my illness. My doctor has given us strict instructions to take things slowly and not expose me unnecessarily to new bacteria. I’m still rather vulnerable.<\/p>\n We’ve booked eleven days of rest and recovery 12 kilometres from Hua Hin in Thailand. Our trip through Cambodia with Mathias will also be rather more organised and planned than we originally imagined. We’re taking every precaution to prevent a relapse.<\/p>\n On our final evening in Vietnam, we visit my colleague Morten from the embassy and his lovely wife, Bodil. They serve freshly baked rye bread packed with seeds, salami, liver p\u00e2t\u00e9, curry herring, sausages, cheese and much more \u2014 everything you’d expect on a Danish lunch table. Just perfect for my otherwise poor appetite. After travelling for six months, curry herring and rye bread are among the things you treasure most. A thousand thanks to Morten and Bodil for spoiling us and for such a lovely evening.<\/p>\n Sometimes life takes a turn you could never have anticipated. I certainly hadn’t expected to be ill for three weeks and to spend two of them in hospital. Three cheers for our absolutely fantastic travel insurance, World Nomads! They’ve been incredibly helpful and provided outstanding service. They definitely deserve the biggest recommendation in this newsletter \u2014 along with Christian’s dentists at Serenity International Dental Clinic in Hanoi.<\/p>\n Christian had his teeth treated as planned. ‘They’re extremely professional and work to a very high standard,’ he says. The grand master plan was to have two bridges fitted as well, but because things didn’t heal as quickly as expected, he’ll have to return at a later date. The plan is for him to go back in October to have the two bridges completed. It’s been a major dental project \u2014 one that would have been unaffordable in Denmark.<\/p>\n On 26 June 2016, we said goodbye to Vietnam and flew to Bangkok. After a short flight of an hour and a half and a three-and-a-half-hour drive, we’ve arrived at Mango Spa and Resort near Hua Hin, in a wonderfully strategic location: close to nature, peace and quiet, the mountains and the rainforest just behind us. The house or bungalow we’ve booked through Airbnb is privately owned but situated within a resort with a restaurant and other facilities.<\/p>\n The swimming pool is right outside our terrace, and because it’s the low season, there are hardly any people here.<\/p>\n All three of us feel a special joy at being back in Thailand, along with a very good gut feeling. We’ve been here many times before, but never to Hua Hin. I’ll be recuperating here for the next eleven days. Christian and Sarah have booked a three-day reptile trip into the jungle, where they’ll go looking for snakes!<\/p>\n They’re more than welcome to have that experience to themselves. They’ll be sleeping in tents out in the jungle, without running water, toilets or electricity, hiking up and down mountains, protecting themselves from leeches and ticks \u2014 and looking for some of the world’s most dangerous snakes. But that’s their great passion, so they’re really looking forward to it.<\/p>\n I think I’ll just find myself a good book and enjoy the peace and quiet, the gentle breeze, the swimming pool and the beach.<\/p>\n<\/a>
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Even before we left Hanoi, our guide got angry and jumped off the bus. That meant we had no guide for the trip, so everything becomes a little disorganised, although the local guide aboard the boat does everything he can to make it work. Never mind, as far as we’re concerned \u2014 we have plenty of time. The rest of the group, however, have only a short time on Cat Ba Island. They miss out on some experiences and have to return to the mainland very early the next morning.<\/p>\n<\/a>
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Tourism is the main source of income. Cat Ba Town sits right on the waterfront at the opposite end from the harbour. The town is well equipped for the large numbers of tourists arriving every day. I’m sure the island’s population doubles at weekends, when crowds of Vietnamese tourists arrive and the beaches are, quite literally, packed like sardines.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a>
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We’re both confined to bed, living on crackers, cola and water. The heat is unbearable and the humidity enormous. We don’t get to see the island. After three days, it’s time to leave Cat Ba Island, and we enjoy one last boat trip through beautiful Ha Long Bay.<\/p>\n<\/a>
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