Dense jungle and endless rice paddies, where peasant women go about their work with the nón lá on their heads, the traditional conical hat; lazily grazing water buffaloes with white herons on their backs and palm-fringed white sandy beaches. Vietnam fascinates with its originality and the ingenuity of its inhabitants, who are inextricably linked to the country's topography. From the widely ramified river delta of the Mekong in the south, to the underground rivers of the notorious cave systems of central Vietnam and the breathtaking karst landscapes of Halong Bay in the north. A journey through a country whose face is characterised by its rivers, canals and bays.
The Mekong Delta: life on the water
Early in the morning, before the sun rises, you can hear the first sounds of engines on the Mekong. A rooster crows in the distance, presumably from a birdcage on board a ship. It smells of diesel, fish and phở, the ubiquitous noodle soup that is often cooked for breakfast. Smoke rises from the timbered pile dwellings made of wood and corrugated iron. Living, trading and travelling - life in the Mekong Delta has always taken place on the water.
The muddy brown river is the lifeline of the entire region. After a journey of almost five thousand kilometres through six countries, it reaches the South China Sea here.
More than half of Vietnam's food comes from the fertile soils of its 70,000 square kilometre estuary. Vietnam is the world's third largest rice exporter after India and Thailand. This is due not only to the river but also to the tropical climate in the south. While the rice is only harvested once a year in the cooler north, three rice harvests are possible here in the same period. Vietnam's "rice bowl" is criss-crossed by a labyrinth of rivers and canals. Dense jungle has always made large parts of the country difficult to pass through, which is why goods have always been transported by water. Over 47,000 kilometres of waterways connect Vietnam's cities and villages. Only Russia, China and Brazil, all countries with much larger areas, have more.
Cái Răng: Fresh fruit from the boat
At floating markets such as the Cái Răng in Cần Thơ farmers from the surrounding area sell their goods directly from the ship. In the past, they were important transhipment centres from where the goods were transported to the cities. In the meantime, however, roads and bridges have been built and trade on the water is slowly losing its original significance. Today, the hustle and bustle is mainly centred around the colourful tourist boats: Traders purposefully head for these long, narrow and brightly painted sampans with guests from all over the world to offer exotic fruits.
A woman in bright yellow silk trousers and a pink blouse sits on one of the larger barges, cutting elaborately decorated pineapple slices for the tourists with quick, practised movements. A smile flashes from under the brim of her straw hat as a customer hands her a tidy tip over the side of the boat. Bags full of rambutan, mangosteen and dragon fruit are passed from one boat to another, bundles of banknotes change hands. A ten-year-old boy stands at the rattling outboard motor of a long-tail boat loaded with fruit baskets and skilfully manoeuvres it through the confusion while his mother keeps an eye out for potential customers at the bow.
Since the communist country opened up in the 1990s, tourism has become increasingly important for Vietnam. Backpackers and individual travellers are no longer the only visitors. Before the pandemic, there were already 18 million travellers a year and thanks to visa facilitation and the removal of travel restrictions, the industry is recovering quickly. Water tourism in particular is on the rise: providers of boat trips of all kinds are springing up like mushrooms. For years, intensive investment has been made in expanding the infrastructure along the 3400 kilometres of coastline. Travelling is becoming easier. However, it is becoming more difficult to find adventure and seclusion, which are the main attractions for many people.
But they still exist, these oases of peace in the delta, sometimes just a turn-off away, in the next side arm. The water becomes clearer, the engine noises quieter, until after a few minutes they fade into the distance.
Lush greenery surrounds the small sampan, which glides through the mangroves with a shallow freeboard. The bright blue sky, which occasionally peeks through the overhanging palm fronds, gives a hint of the heat, which is easy to bear down here thanks to the shady canopy of leaves. The only sound that breaks the silence is the rhythmic gurgling of the water at the stern, where a young woman in an oversized straw hat stands and operates her long paddle with a fascinating twisting motion.
Ho Chi Minh City: between tradition and modernity
Just a few hours' drive north-east of the Mekong Delta, however, you will discover a completely different Vietnam: urban, loud and cosmopolitan. The next destination is Ho Chi Minh City. Skyscrapers on the west bank of the Soài Rạp and its tributary Sông Sài Gòn bear witness to the rapid development of the up-and-coming country here, in the former Saigon. The best symbol of this is a towering needle made of granite and glass that is reflected in the water: Landmark 81. With a height of 461 metres, the prestigious building is currently the second tallest building in South East Asia.
If you weren't reminded of this on every street corner by posters in the style of socialist realism, you could almost forget you were in a communist-ruled country.
The streets and squares of the metropolis are lined with red national flags with a yellow star. And above the branch of an American fast food chain, the father of the country Ho Chi Minh smiles from an oversized banner. Nowhere else in Vietnam, however, are the contrasts between tradition and modernity, socialist patriotism and a cosmopolitan society as evident as on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City. The change is palpable. The female traders in the dense crowds on Nguyễn Huệ Street seem to have fallen out of time. With their carrying poles balanced on their shoulders and baskets of fruit hanging from the ends, they disappear on their way to the market between westernised young people holding a smartphone in one hand and a Starbucks latte in the other.
Hội An: Indochina like from a picture book
We continue northwards on the night train. The "reunification express" rattles deafeningly loud through the darkness of Vietnam. A trip to the toilet through the sparsely lit corridors turns out to be an adventure. But the socialist charm of the grey carriages is deceptive: the sleeping cabins are comfortable. There is a power socket by the bed and free Wi-Fi. And even after a 34-hour journey, the "SE4" reaches its destination almost on time. Trains run several times a day in both directions between Saigon and Hanoi. The journey of around 1700 kilometres from the tropical south to the cooler north takes you past flooded rice fields and idyllic coastal towns.
One of them (and worth a stopover) is Hội An. It was once an important trading centre on the legendary Silk Road and had the largest port in Southeast Asia, until this gradually silted up and the city lost its importance. Ironically, this is precisely what contributed to its current fame: thanks to this temporary oblivion, the historical face of Hội An was not destroyed during the Vietnam War and has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1999. When night falls, the old centre is transformed into a spectacle of light. Countless colourful lanterns illuminate the façades along the banks of the Thu Bồn, the bridges over the river and the dense traffic on the water, even late at night.
Thúng chai: Vietnam's circular basket boats
In addition to the impressive French colonial-style buildings, Hội An is known for its long white sandy beaches and the circular thúng chai. Legend has it that the "floating baskets" woven from bamboo were created out of necessity. It is said that the fishermen wanted to avoid the tax levied by the French on real boats, as baskets - unsurprisingly - did not fall into this category. As they have no keel, they are easy to manoeuvre if you have the necessary skill and balance. This makes them all the more representative of the independence and resourcefulness of the locals and they are still an important source of income for countless families along the central Vietnamese coast. The nutrients in the water that the Thu Bồn brings with it on its journey from Ngọc Linh Mountain through the fertile plains still provide a good catch. However, many of the fishermen now earn a few thousand dong by taking tourists on river trips.
Phong Nha-Ke Bàng National Park
As we continue northwards, the terrain becomes increasingly mountainous. The most beautiful section of the railway line from Saigon to Hanoi leads over the Cloud Pass, which once separated North and South Vietnam. The rice paddies are replaced by dense forests as one climatic zone gives way to the next. Fog rises between the dark green mountain slopes. The Central Vietnamese highlands consist mainly of karst. Like a sponge, it is criss-crossed by huge cave systems and underground rivers. Here, in the narrow strip of just fifty kilometres between the border with Laos and the South China Sea, lies the Phong Nha-Kẻ Bàng National Park with the largest caves in the world. The area was heavily contested during the Vietnam War. Partly because the legendary Ho Chi Minh Trail ran along here, which was used to transport important supplies for the Vietcong at night. During the day, people hid in the caves and used them as armouries and military hospitals. The Americans repeatedly tried to eliminate this crucial point on the supply route with concentrated firepower.
During the hottest phase of the Vietnam War around 1968, not a day is said to have passed without bomb or rocket attacks on the caves. Without success.
Some of the caves, which branch out for kilometres and have been carved out of the porous rock by rivers, can only be explored by boat. However, such tours with motorised sampans are always dependent on the water level - if it is too high, there is no way through even with heads down. For other tours, you should have a certain level of fitness and not be afraid of heights, darkness and confined spaces. A unique experience is the Ruc Mòn Cave, which was only discovered in 2016, where you jump from a rock into the underground river at the end and then drift down to the cathedral-like exit.
Halong Bay: Home of the diving dragon
If you leave the almost impenetrable hinterland of central Vietnam behind you as you head north, you will find the country's second large delta plain in front of you. Coming from China, the Red River, which is called Sông Hồng in Vietnam, flows through the Capital Hanoi and then flows into the Gulf of Tonkin. Huge limestone cliffs, some of them several hundred metres high, rise out of the emerald green ocean in a row off the coast. The densely overgrown islands are home to rare plant and animal species. There are countless mysterious caves, waterfalls and sandy beaches: It is not without reason that the Halong Bay It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994 and is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Southeast Asia.
Vịnh Hạ Long means "Bay of the Diving Dragon". Legend has it that a huge specimen of this mythical creature once defended the human inhabitants against intruders.
In the battle, it split the land with its tail, which was then washed by the water. Today, exactly 1969 islands are waiting to be explored by boat. Just 20 years ago, the floating villages of Halong Bay were an insider tip among Southeast Asia fans. Today, it is mainly the area around Halong City in the north of the bay that has been developed for tourism and attracts Chinese tourists with its huge hotel complexes, flashing Ferris wheel and floating karaoke bars. Cát Bà, the largest island in the bay, is a little more tranquil. It is also the starting point for excursions on the water. Most tours start early in the morning at the harbour.
At the floating villages
The subtropical climate brings mild winters to the north of Vietnam. However, compared to the tropical south, 17 degrees Celsius and drizzle in February are not very inviting for many. Although temperatures will rise in a few weeks and with them the number of tourist boats, it is still empty on the water and the beaches really do offer solitude. Occasionally you can see shellfish farmers emptying their baskets on the narrow strips of sand. We pass colourful fishing boats and floating huts. Terraces with miniature fruit trees and footbridges create their own little world. A mother says goodbye to her children who are being taken to school by water taxi, an elderly woman squats in front of a cooking area in the open-plan living area and waves to the passing guests with a toothless smile. Barking dogs guard their owners' fish breeding tanks and scare away the numerous seabirds. High-quality species such as Malabar grouper and cobia are bred here primarily for the Chinese market.
An estimated one thousand people still live here on the sea - and also from it. As has been the case for generations, fish, seaweed and oyster farming provide a livelihood, while water tourism has recently become increasingly important.
The floating village shop brings what people need directly to their doorstep, and electricity is produced by diesel generators as required. But this is a luxury that not everyone can afford, just like fuel for boat engines. Instead, people row. The technique is an art in itself: half lying on their backs, the oars are moved with their feet. Others fight their way through the current standing up with a paddle - and look like the role model of modern SUP athletes.
Halfway through the karst landscape, we anchor for lunch. You can jump into the water directly from the boat and swim to the secluded beaches. However, only the hardiest dare to jump overboard at these temperatures. At low tide, most beaches are also almost impossible to reach because sharp rocks directly under the water surface make it practically impossible to make progress without injury. However, the sight of the majestic rocks is monumental even at this time of year. Strong Vietnamese cà phê is served with sweetened condensed milk.
Rock tunnel into solitude
In many places, the sea has dug its way under the rocks and created tunnels. Canoes can be used to explore the hidden lagoons that lie behind them. Some of them are only accessible at low tide, when the tunnels are not under water. However, if the water level is too low, you may have to get out and push a little. But the effort is rewarded: at the other end of the dark corridors, the noise of civilisation is just a memory.
For the night, the larger excursion boats with cabins drop anchor in one of the countless bays. Outside the high season, it is not uncommon to have dinner on deck all to yourself. Silence and darkness now descend over the bay. In the distance, you can see hundreds of lights dancing on the water: Fishermen are trying to attract squid with chains of light bulbs. The mobile phone has no network. No connection to the outside world and everyday life. No distraction.
Silence and noise, solitude and crowds, tradition and innovation, socialism and capitalism wherever you look: Vietnam is full of contrasts. However, between the Mekong Delta in the south and Halong Bay in the north lies a country whose inhabitants have learnt to live with the changing tides and adapt to the currents. Water is the unifying element of Vietnam, its movement the constant.
