Northern Vietnam. The one with the socialist ideals.

The bus to Hanoi was packed. Packed and smelly. And corrupt. When Debs managed to nab to seats near the front (no reservations on this one), the driver tried to get a $5 surcharge out of us, preferring to keep the front seats for his fellow Vietnamese. We were relegated to the noisy rear-end, where the faulty toilet door incessantly banged on the side of the beds - we were stuck on the upper bunks, where three single beds were crammed in above the engine so close together that we effectively shared a triple bed with a random local, whose wandering legs kept finding their way onto our territory. Combined with a driver who beeped his horn to declare his presence to any passing vehicle, we did not exactly arrive refreshed, when our bus pulled up in the arse-end of nowhere in Southern Hanoi.

Fortunately, Hanoi is fabulous. A much smaller city than its sister HCMC in the south, the former capital of Northern Vietnam is dotted with parks and lakes, eateries and cultural sights, and is home to the fabulous old city - complete with the antique gates and walls. In this area, thirty-six streets are named after the trade that was traditionally based there; and even today it seems that the trades stick together, even if they have changed through the ages. We found 'sellotape street', 'cardboard box street', fresh produce street', 'floor tile street' and 'reupholstery of the fake leather found on motorbike seats street'. The fish market was a mix between the sea-life centre, and the London Dungeons, where crabs were bound and gutted while alive, eels were sliced lengthways and fish were betailed prior to beheading simply because they were plucked out of the net that way. All by glassy-eyed indifferent tradesmen with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths - the modern day grim reapers. Of the crustacean world.

A Vietnamese Campavan

While in Hanoi, one must go to the Vietnamese water puppet theatre, where wooden puppets seemingly float on water (I won't give away how the effect is acheived - go and see). They portray the documented history of Vietnam, from the recent unification, going back to the illicit and raunchy affair between a dragon and a fairy that led to the illegitimate offspring that later became known as Vietnam. A small orchestra and crooning women plunk and sing along respectively while a powerpoint presentation littered with grammatical crimes and typos translate the stories into English.

Vietnamese Water Puppetry

Perhaps one of the most eagerly awaited (and fondestly remembered) events of our trip came the next day. Keen to see Halong bay while keeping to our tight budget, we were on the brink of booking a cheap and cheerful tour with 'Golden Sail Tours', previously trading under some other name, and much cheaper than the next cheapest tour. Tickets for all the tour opertors are available at every single hotel and travel agent in Hanoi, and every single one has the same collection of brochures, with standardised prices and the same shpiel. We were reassured by various agents and receptionists that the tour was 'fair for the price', and that 'most people come back quite content'. A quick search on tripadvisor was the final nail in the coffin - with not a good word to their name (rats on board the boat, being charged extra for hot water, charges for bringing your own soft drinks or water on board the vessel), we decided to upgrade - and it was one of the best decisions we made on the trip. Paying nearly double (still a bargain at US$115 each for a three day two night cruise), we were picked up by Halong Dragon Cruises the next morning; on a small ship holding just 17 people, we sailed out into the world heritage bay, where pristine islets covered in nature burst out of clear flat waters. Even the haze and mist that shrouded the bay didn't detract.

As we leisurely drifted from island to island, the occasional row boat would pull up along side to offer their wares.

Haggling over Coke in Halong Bay

 As the kitchen crew freshly prepared each meal, bending over backwards to provide food for our quirky dietary requirements (which they did superbly), we would be entertained with kayaking (trying to get as far as possible without colliding with a bigger ship), or would take a smaller boat out to go swimming (although the water was cool enough the make the plentiful warm water on board much appreciated), tours of the caves (where our guide made very subtle innuendo about stalactite formations) or nearby wildlife (chucking bananas at monkeys from far enough away that they couldn't swim out to us. We would be welcomed back to our ship each time with drinks, fruit or some other perk. The only treat universally declined by all 17 guests was the karaoke evening, which failed spectacularly, and I think is testimony to the great people on board with us; with the exception of a very bizarre and hostile German family, the eclectic mix of Americans, Aussies, Malaysians, Dutch, Japanese and British-Israeli bonded very well - to the extent we plan to see several of them in later points in our trip as we arrive in their countries.

On the second night, Deborah and I had planned something a little different - when the rest of the group headed off to a city hotel on Cat Ba island (one of the only inhabited islands out of the 1969 that fill the bay), we decided to head off for some village hospitality. The boat dropped us at a jetty for the village of Viet Hai, only accessible by boat and then a long cycle ride through the forest, with plans to be back there the next morning. Winding through the thick countryside on rickety bikes with rusty chains, we finally arrived in the little village; all around villagers worked the rice paddies, and chidren played with dogs on the side of the dirt path. Mud huts and crude concrete cubes made up most of the buildings, and a single cable provided electricity from the town on the other side of the island. Even our bungalow, newly built and luxurious compared to the standard of living of the locals, was a breeze block square with a straw roof. Woooden shutters were the alternative for glass in the window, giving a choice between pitch-black darkness, or jungle mosquitoes. And yet, for the first time in days, we had a decent internet connection. Bizarre.

Exploring the vilage revealed the organic fields supprted by some western organisation, which were just a foot or two from the local land-fill site (not that this village is likely to produce much toxic waste), massive toads wallowing in the mud amongst the rice, safe from the hungry eyes of the local dogs, and an elderly coffee vendor whose total lack of English let me exploit the entire extent of my Vietnamese (coffee, sugar, water, thank you. What more do you need?)

When we climbed into our mosquito net and turned off the light, it was only a matter of seconds before the racket of a dozen lizards, spiders and who-knows-what surrounded us from every direction. But prior experience had long taught us to shut our bags at night and make sure our net is tucked in all around the bed. So we left them to it, and fell asleep as the crickets outside drowned out the bugs within.

Back in Hanoi, temporarily mourning the end of the serenity of the island, we forgot about the adventures still to come. Vietnam is a country crammed with beauty, culture and character, and one that would require far more time than we have to really get to know. So much so that time ran away from us, and we ended up abandoning our trip to Laos and flying straight back to Bangkok to make our way south in time for our Australia flight from Singapore.

In those last hours in Hanoi, we saw Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum and a statue of Lenin. We had a brief encounter with US soldiers seconded to the Missing in Action centre still searching for those who are not accounted for, and were among those to wish congratulations to a just-married couple in the botanical gardens, just seconds from the filthy cages of monkeys being fed lollipops through the bars by bored children.

And our final journey to the airport was filled with the signs of progress - possibly the most gigantic bridge I've ever seen is being built to connect to the soon-to-be-built bigger airport (funded by the Japanese), Yamaha factories churn out bikes while massive digital screens advertise the latest smartphones. This poor/rich, communist/capitalist, green/industrialised, third world/developed country has so much to offer, and so much unlike our experience of Cambodia, we were very sorry to leave her behind.

Not bad for the child of a dragon who got a bit drunk and had a fling with a fairy.