From the limestone islands of Halong Bay to traditional villages along the Red River, a small-ship cruise offers a wonderfully unhurried look at northern Vietnam.
By Bev Malzard
Torrential! There really is no other word for the monsoon rain that hammered our ship for 20 minutes. Then, as suddenly as it arrived, it was gone. The air returned to its usual hot and steamy self, and the broad Red River settled into a silky expanse of water the colour of chicken gravy.
I was aboard the Angkor Pandaw for a ten-day cruise through Halong Bay and the waterways of the Red River delta. The ship is a beauty, inspired by the old Irrawaddy Flotilla vessels that once worked the rivers of colonial Burma. Gleaming timber decks, polished brass and immaculate details give her a rather grand air.
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| Pandaw polished timber cabin (Bev Malzard) |
I confess I was a little apprehensive. Five days had been my previous cruising limit. Ten sounded like rather a lot of time afloat. As it turned out, my only complaint came at the end, when I would happily have stayed another few days.
From Hanoi to Halong Bay
We set off from Hanoi for World Heritage-listed Halong Bay, where extraordinary limestone towers rise from the water in all manner of shapes. We explored caves by kayak and rowing boat, then found ourselves on a deserted beach with a bay almost entirely to ourselves. A cooling swim was just the ticket.
Later, fishing-boat lights winked across the water as we sat down to the first of many generous, inventive dinners.
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| Relaxed punting on the lower Red River (supplied) |
Beyond the postcard scenery, though, came another Vietnam. Travelling along the Red, Lo and Black rivers brought us face to face with the everyday business of the country, and I found it every bit as fascinating as the famous sights.
This isn't a landscape of pretty castles and manicured hills. Concrete factories, brick kilns and commercial barges share the riverbanks with banana plantations, cornfields and floating fish farms. In the distance are the spires of Catholic churches and the sweeping roofs of Buddhist temples.
The scenery isn't always beautiful, but it feels wonderfully alive. Even the barge captains seemed faintly amused by the sight of our handsome little ship sailing through their working waterways.
Villages, conical hats and a cup of tea
Most days brought an included excursion, usually to places where overseas visitors were still something of a novelty. The welcome was easy and warm.
In one village, three generations of women, aged from 18 to 90, showed us how they made the familiar Vietnamese conical hat, or nón lá. Ideal for tropical sun and rain, it is ingenious everyday design. There were skilled hands at work, and tea, bananas and peanuts offered around.
Elsewhere we wandered through Thanh Ha to watch a traditional water-puppet performance, visited ceramic makers whose craft had been passed through generations, and were greeted by a lion-dance troupe accompanied by gloriously noisy drums. Nothing timid about that welcome!
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| Hung Lo ladies (Bev Malzard) |
At Hung Lo temple we listened to hát xoan, the UNESCO-recognised traditional singing of Phu Tho province, performed by women and girls ranging from childhood to their 80s. We were even invited to join a fishing-song dance and, for once, I didn't feel entirely like a bull in a china shop.
There were visits to Thay and Tay Phuong pagodas, with their broad wooden pillars, statues and upturned eaves, and to a village where families forged machetes and chopping knives using methods handed down over generations. At Duong Lam, old houses and narrow village lanes offered another glimpse into northern Vietnam's long history.
The last village visit was to an H'mong community amid vivid green rice fields and stilt houses. More tea appeared, with peanuts, bananas and locally made banana wine. Hospitality has its own dependable itinerary.
The pleasure of going slowly
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| Traditional pho is a delicious Vietnamese staple (supplied) |
After every excursion came one of the small joys of river cruising: returning to the ship, a cool towel and a refreshing drink, followed by lunch. Resistance to the next delicious spread was pointless.
But the food and polished decks weren't what stayed with me most. It was the unexpected mix of busy industry and quiet countryside, the remarkable skill of village craftspeople and the generosity of people who seemed pleased, if occasionally bemused, to see us.
Sometimes the most interesting thing is simply watching the river go about its work.
A practical word: monsoon rain can alter river levels and itineraries, so a flexible attitude is essential. Bring a reusable water bottle, say no to unnecessary plastic bags and enjoy whichever bend in the river comes next.
Ten days on a Vietnam river cruise? I needn't have worried. Would I go again? Don't mind if I do.
