I’m traveling through Indochina. I’ve already seen Thailand and Laos. Now I’ve crossed the border into Vietnam. The landscape is changing dramatically. The narrow mountain roads are being improved here, and there’s a lot of traffic. We’re driving along a very deep gorge. But that doesn’t make the cars any more cautious. They weave past everything, only concerned with their own advantage. Even if that causes stupid standoffs that no one can get through.

After a long, winding drive through the jungle, we leave the highlands and enter the open plains. Here, rice fields stretch to the mountains on the horizon, and small towns abound. Colorful cemeteries line the roadside, and we frequently pass soldiers’ graves.

The traffic is criminal. Everyone honks, be it a motorcycle, car, bus, or heavy truck, whether they’re following you or not. And if they want to overtake, they honk even more, and of course, they use their horns when someone is coming the other way.

In the first hour alone in Vietnam I observed three accidents

Within the first hour on the main road, I witness three accidents: always involving motorcycles colliding in the crush. Tired from the long drive, I try to sleep, but the constant honking, especially from overtaking buses, almost gives me a heart attack every time.

Despite everything, the country looks reborn—at least, that’s my first impression. Ruins are overgrown, there are countless construction sites and newly built houses. Every hundred meters, you see a stockpile of bricks, cement, and planks. Roads are being expanded.

People here, especially women, have the habit of covering themselves with scarves to protect their skin from the sun as much as possible, as white skin is considered the ideal of beauty.

Communism reigns in this country – and anti-American propaganda

The streets are flanked by national flags—a yellow star on a red background—and communist flags—a yellow hammer and sickle on a red background. Along the sides of the streets are painted propaganda posters depicting families, farmers, artisans, and engineers, with a picture of a party leader next to them. One poster depicts a crashing B-52 with the inscription “USA,” with the cheering crowd below.

Despite communism, there are still many temples here; the plan to abolish religion failed and was abandoned. The people remain Buddhist and animist.

It was only at eight o’clock in the evening that we arrived in Ninh Bình, where we would spend the night.

Rats are a delicacy in Viet Nam!

Here, we had the pleasure of enjoying proper Vietnamese food for the first time. It’s customary in Vietnam to simply throw all trash, napkins, cans, etc., onto the ground or the street. Everything is cleaned up at night. The food is good, even if Glen was expecting a slightly different kind of pork skewer. The “meat” is a small, brown, hairy, tough lump. Delicious. Rat!

He at least tries two small bites before throwing it away in disgust. The noodles and vegetables are, however, extremely delicious. Another specialty here is the lemon juice. It’s pressed, heated, and then served with ice.

After eating, we trudge with our luggage to the harbor, where we take a ferry to Cat Ba Island. The ferry is an old shabby barge, packed to bursting point. As wealthy tourists, we naturally have no trouble getting a seat. Our main luggage, however, remains with our bus driver in Haiphong, whom we’ll meet again the next day. We only have hand luggage with us now.

After the boat has set sail, I squeeze out of the cabin and stand at the bow to watch the ferry follow the river. Cargo is still stowed in every aisle: cages with chickens, crates, bicycles… On the roof, I join the others who have found their way here. As crowded as the boat is, we have the roof completely to ourselves.

The sun beats down on us, but the breeze is cooling. Many sand tugs shovel sand out of the river for cement production, and a few gunboats also pass us by. We make only one more stop at a small dock where most of the passengers disembark. Vendors on the jetty loudly advertise their wares, especially when they see us.

Finally, we reach the sea. I stand at the bow again. We sail past an island landscape and pass many small wooden boats and fishermen trying their luck on the high seas in their tiny skiffs. Like everyone else, they wear large rice hats to protect themselves from the sun and rain.

Finally, we reach Cat Ba, tucked away among a few other islands within the famous Halong Bay (Vinh Ha Long). Once a pirate’s den, it’s now a tourist hotspot. But this place is also incomparably beautiful.

The island is small, with only a few small mountains, three beaches, and a few small hotels and bars. The small harbor is filled with small fishing boats and wooden ferries. At least the traffic here isn’t that bad.

I persuade Glen to come with me to the beach. They showed us directions and told us which beaches were more or less popular. Of course, that’s relative on the island. The beach we’re hiking to is hardly visited. Glen thought I’d missed the trail, but it turns out I was right. The beautiful sandy beach is surrounded by two small rocky outcrops with clear traces of lava, practically petrified waves. I immediately jump into the water, which, to my surprise, isn’t a bit colder than the hot air. I swim out a bit and towards the nearest island. I see three other people swimming next to me in the same direction.

I swim my way and every now and then have to dodge a ship that crosses my path.

We greet a small family when I reach the island. They are two Spaniards with their daughter. She introduces herself as Monica. We scramble around the island barefoot. The stones are as sharp as knives, and I cut my feet on broken shells, leaving my feet bleeding from countless cuts. The island has no beach; the cliffs rise steeply into the air; we can only walk around the island on a few rocks. Millions of tiny crabs are crawling on one of the rocks.

Finally, I try to get back into the water because the rocks everywhere are sharp. And underwater, there are many more rocks, just below the surface, that I hit until we finally reach the open sea again. The whole way back, I chat with Monica about Vietnam, her travel route and mine, life in Spain, and, it turns out, she even speaks a little German.

On the beach, I introduce her to Glen, who’s been waiting for me the whole time and looking after our things. He’s already built two remarkable battleships out of sand. He’s visibly impressed that I’ve just picked up a pretty Spanish woman right out of the water. We arrange to meet at a bar that evening.

During sunset, Glen and I head back into town to find a place for dinner. Along the way, we pick up Brian, who’s drinking a Tiger Beer. The place also serves turtles, sharks, etc. A piece of tuna is enough for me.

In the evening, we go to the bar, which is having happy hour. But the cocktails are mediocre and expensive (for Vietnam).

In the morning, we set off early again and head to the harbor to rent a wooden boat and explore the islands. The boats are two-story, made of dark wood, with decorative patterns and dragon heads as figureheads. Nicki and Brian are in a pretty bad mood today: Nicki had sixty dollars stolen from her backpack, and Brian lost his glasses in the South China Sea.

The trip is fantastic, the water emerald green, and small islands rise from the water all around us. We stop in a lagoon and swim for a bit. I swim almost to the shore of a larger island, but the distance is so great that, for the sake of our afternoon, I decide to return early. I cut my feet again on the side of the boat.

We drive to another island with a huge stalactite cave. The cave is amazing, featuring the most abstract structures, but unfortunately, there are too many Chinese tourists.

From the exit of the stalactite cave, which lies about a hundred meters above sea level in the rock, we have a magnificent view over the sea.

We continue on the boat for a while until we reach a beautiful lagoon and jump off the boat again.

Meanwhile, the crew is preparing a meal we won’t soon forget.

There’s fish, shrimp, spring rolls, rice, vegetables, and small squid. Taking the fish apart with chopsticks is a particular challenge, testing my previous chopstick skills.

We return to land through Halong Bay, the island world here, where we find our bus driver and, most importantly, our luggage unharmed. We set off toward Hanoi. We’ll experience many more things in this city.

On the way, our guide teaches me a little more of the language, using words and short phrases from everyday use that are incredibly effective. Only the writing is difficult:

We’ll stop at two locations along the way. First, at a porcelain factory that produces beautiful vases, plates, and other porcelain items. Clay is molded and then artistically painted by women in solid form, creating fine lines and beautiful patterns.

Those who are not completely absorbed in their work smile at me as I look over their shoulders.

Above us the sky opens again and the monsoon almost drowns us.