What the Pho...
by Sangeeta Deshpande

An armchair sojourn to Vietnam

When PM Modi visits Vietnam, it opens flood gates for Indian tourists to flock to the erstwhile China held state. Now I can’t be sure if visiting the country can be clubbed under a political visit or a romantic one. Nevertheless, when your spouse is insistent on visiting Vietnam for a romantic winter vacation, the least you can do is roll your eyes and comply. But wasn’t Europe supposed to be the mecca of romance, not Asia?

As we land in Hanoi in late December, it’s 10 am and the temperature is 16 degrees. My mood that has been rattling away for the past couple of weeks, crash lands at the first feel of 16!

A drive into the city reminds me of some suburb of every Indian city - tiny, crowded streets surrounded by low rise buildings, nestled around shops ranging from hardware stores and night markets all the way to cosy cafes serving delectable local cuisine. The stark difference, French architecture, a mind-boggling spread of coffee and bread that tastes French but looks Vietnamese - Bahn Mi! Need I mention, vegetarian food is available aplenty? Spoiler alert, Vietnamese vegetarian food isn’t for the faint-hearted. And if your Indian tongue cannot survive a day without the fiery taste of chillies or Masala chai, I secretly recommend carrying garlic chutney or Maggie masala with Wagh Bakri instant tea to save the day. And since love happens to find its way via the tummy, after a long day of city sightseeing, a bland but highly palatable meal could shove all plans of a romantic aftermath in heat of the moment, or the lack of it.

We spend the next couple of days in Hanoi, walking around, visiting night markets, temples, lakes, riding cycle rickshaws and cafe hopping, sipping on egg coffee, coconut coffee, salt coffee and the Vietnamese drip coffee or the black cousin of the South Indian filter coffee. The place fails to impress me though. My Americano loving bitter half, on the other hand is in love with stylish cafes that dot the city.

It is difficult to tell if the city is decorated with more lanterns or cafes. Every turn welcomes you to a cosy and artistic space that offers the exact same menu. Confession time - despite my opinions, these artsy looking spaces are inviting, the people humble. I soften up a little bit.

The one place I end up truly loving is the train street. Sitting by the track, fitting our generous Indian backsides into minuscule chairs, witnessing the tomfoolery of tons of people clicking selfies and making reels on the abused touristy track seems to do justice to the calories I consume on a holiday. I can’t help but mention an Indian couple on honeymoon (the Chooda gives it away) exchanging cosy glances, clicking each other, all the while savouring copious amounts of coffee. And here we sit, devouring plates full of dim sums, slurping hot Pho and hogging spring rolls as though on a contest to win a million bucks. Technically, we do carry millions of Dong in our pockets. Ah, the feeling of being a billionaire!

On day 2, hubby surprises me with a sign up at an egg coffee making class at Hanoi Cafe where we get to master the art of becoming barista. The teacher is a charming, young fellow who even tells us a tale about the birth of egg coffee. But learning to create a new local favourite is more fun than I imagined. The rum needed for egg coffee is so tempting, my hands involuntarily engage in a bottoms up! Everyone cracks up. And my not so bitter half is falling in love all over again. Shall we say, I am finally falling for Hanoi, just a teensy bit?

On day 3, we start for Ninh Binh. A two hour drive south of Hanoi. Nothing pretty. I am grumpy again. Where is the winter romance I was promised? I doze off in disappointment. When I open my eyes, I find myself at a massive resort named Wyndham Vedana. The word Vedana arches my eyebrows in an instant as both of us giggle. But the location is stunning. Surrounded by lush green mountains on all sides, built using a unique bamboo architecture, this place is a slice of heaven. The cooler than average wind, chirping birds, colourful bougainvillea and grass lawns seem to have an uplifting effect on my mood.

Time for gyan - Romance seems inversely proportional to unwieldy crowds and directly to proximity with nature. As we reach our 4th floor room, the view is to die for. Mountain tops spread as far as eyes can see. And the lines, “You're off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, So... get on your way!”, by Dr. Suess come rushing through.

We spend the afternoon without much dialogue, cycling around, kayaking, getting cozy, lazying on the swing and taking a dip in the hot spring. Come sunset, mesmerising views from the rooftop bar appear beyond Instaworthy. But we decide on going old school. Gadget free.

However, all rest and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So, the next day is power packed. From boating in Trang An's spectacular network of caves, archways, and grottoes, to climbing more than 600 steps to reach the top of the lying dragon cave on one side and a tiered pagoda on the other, Ninh Binh is full of surprises.

On the boat, we spend time eye gazing, holding hands and occasionally running our fingers through chilled waters. We feel cupid struck. Pit stops to visit temples are even more calming. But no matter how deeply you fall in love for a couple of hours on the river, at some point the wooden seat of the boat leaves an indelible mark on your backside. Getting off the boat reminds me of Saif sitting on a takiya after a truck ride from Goa to Mumbai in Dil Chahta Hai. Seems like my pampered tushy is not used to such hardships after all. A piping hot Cappucino coupled with Au Pain Croissant work like magic to warm up my frosty bottom. Life cannot be all rainbows and sunshine!

But the day does not end there. There is still Hoa Lu or ancient city. A riverside quay with more pagodas, dolled up with whimsical lanterns, vibrant graffiti, Christmas decor and tempting food along the waterfront. My favourite happens to be coconut ice cream served in coconut shell, a must try on a cold winter evening.

Crashing in bed, I forget any real vedanas I have and dream of mountains, a flying carpet and us; sitting together, holding hands, looking into the countless cones of never ending cliffs and falling in love with Vietnam. As the alarm blares the next morning, I look into his big, brown eyes. I feel love. Just like I did, centuries ago, when we first met. The very next second, there is a mad rush. We have a fight to catch. We are late. We fight as I stuff last minute clothes in the bag while he is obsessed with being organised. It’s been a decade. Does he still not get how I pack?

What the Pho…