One thing that I've quickly come to realize is that solo travel through Vietnam is only "solo" if you are determined to make it that way. Granted, I've only been in the country for a couple of weeks, and in that time I've only seen one small corner of it, but I can't say enough about the Vietnamese people that I've met so far. Before I left, a couple of friends wondered aloud how the Vietnamese would treat an American traveler - either because of the war we fought here or the dangerously moronic foreign "policies" that have poured out the White House in recent years. Having visited Vietnam a couple of years ago, I got a taste of the hospitality that was offered all visitors to Vietnam, Americans included. My experiences over the past two weeks have only validated those impressions.
In every city, town, or village I've visited, in every hotel or guesthouse that I've spent a night in, in every little restaurant or roadside food stall that I've stopped in at, and in every typhoon-related flooding event I've found myself knee-deep in, I've found the some of the kindest and most helpful people I've ever met, at home or abroad. Whether it was the guy who immediately offered to truck my bike across a flooded road in Son La, the teenager who helped me get my bike started again after I killed the electric starter (the water was apparently deeper than it looked), the young business man from Hanoi named Than, who, while visiting his girlfriend in Son La, saw me eating dinner alone and invited me to their table - they shared their food, MANY shots of rice wine, and multiple toasts to VIETNAM! AMERICA! FRIENDS! Then there was Mr. Voo, an older H'mong man in Sapa who helped me navigate the electronics store in search of an electricity converter. Only at the end of our search did he tell me that he actually lives with his son in Las Vegas for half of the year - the guy actually knows where Kanab is! And Ms. Vu (no relation), the mountain guide who, during a down day, "adopted me" for a couple of hours and patiently answered as many questions that I could come up with.
Maybe it should be attributed to the "mountain-people" phenomena that I've come across before. Whether I've been village hopping in the Himalaya, living in a Colorado coal-mining town, or naively taking on the "Tonkinese Alps" during a typhoon, I've found mountain people to to be some of the most honest, hospitable, helpful, and funloving people that I've ever met. Often times their lives are amazingly difficult and their futures uncertain but they're never short on kindness towards strangers.
In Sapa, even the souvenir stand owners and motorcycle hustlers, hotel touts and tour guides ply their goods and services politely. None of the hardball stuff typically found in the bigger cities. A smiling "no thanks" on my part generally get a smile and an "ok" in return. The local women who wander the streets selling handicrafts are just as likely to sit down and talk with you about their lives, and ask about yours, as they are to push their jewelry and embroidery.
Of course, I'm not naive enough to believe that there are no bad dudes in Vietnam, or that I won't occassionally be taken advantage of (my newly missing motorbike mirror is a testament to that) and I suppose this posting will be supremely ironic if I get mugged, robbed, or worse somewhere down the road, but at this point, so far so good.
In every city, town, or village I've visited, in every hotel or guesthouse that I've spent a night in, in every little restaurant or roadside food stall that I've stopped in at, and in every typhoon-related flooding event I've found myself knee-deep in, I've found the some of the kindest and most helpful people I've ever met, at home or abroad. Whether it was the guy who immediately offered to truck my bike across a flooded road in Son La, the teenager who helped me get my bike started again after I killed the electric starter (the water was apparently deeper than it looked), the young business man from Hanoi named Than, who, while visiting his girlfriend in Son La, saw me eating dinner alone and invited me to their table - they shared their food, MANY shots of rice wine, and multiple toasts to VIETNAM! AMERICA! FRIENDS! Then there was Mr. Voo, an older H'mong man in Sapa who helped me navigate the electronics store in search of an electricity converter. Only at the end of our search did he tell me that he actually lives with his son in Las Vegas for half of the year - the guy actually knows where Kanab is! And Ms. Vu (no relation), the mountain guide who, during a down day, "adopted me" for a couple of hours and patiently answered as many questions that I could come up with.
Maybe it should be attributed to the "mountain-people" phenomena that I've come across before. Whether I've been village hopping in the Himalaya, living in a Colorado coal-mining town, or naively taking on the "Tonkinese Alps" during a typhoon, I've found mountain people to to be some of the most honest, hospitable, helpful, and funloving people that I've ever met. Often times their lives are amazingly difficult and their futures uncertain but they're never short on kindness towards strangers.
In Sapa, even the souvenir stand owners and motorcycle hustlers, hotel touts and tour guides ply their goods and services politely. None of the hardball stuff typically found in the bigger cities. A smiling "no thanks" on my part generally get a smile and an "ok" in return. The local women who wander the streets selling handicrafts are just as likely to sit down and talk with you about their lives, and ask about yours, as they are to push their jewelry and embroidery.
Of course, I'm not naive enough to believe that there are no bad dudes in Vietnam, or that I won't occassionally be taken advantage of (my newly missing motorbike mirror is a testament to that) and I suppose this posting will be supremely ironic if I get mugged, robbed, or worse somewhere down the road, but at this point, so far so good.
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