I arrived in Hanoi at 5am. My guidebook along with my only map of Hanoi was in a box and on its way back to New Jersey. My mission: to find my way to my hotel to pick up my passport and then to the Vietnam Airlines office to catch the bus. I was determined to do without the assistance of a motorbike driver. I had six hours before my flight and a general sense of the direction of the hotel and the airlines office. I also had about 12 kilos of gear strapped to my back and very little sleep.

The sun came out for my last day in Sapa. I made some last climbs up and down the mountain to enjoy the warm weather. I spent the morning talking to travelers. One adventure driven Brit gave me some tips in Laos, which I gladly took seeing as I had yet to get a guidebook and was due in that country in less than a day.

I awoke to rain. The same concrete wall of fog leaned up against the window where the view of the valley was supposed to be. I had made a cocoon around myself with a furry blanket and then piled another two heavy blankets on top of to keep me warm.

Sa Pa is a town on top of the mountain. The minibus climbed and climbed. A trail of little white minibuses in front of and behind crawling up and around mountains. At first we were looking at the dark clouds of fog draping the tops of the mountains, and then we were in them.

The next and last stop in Vietnam would be Sa Pa, a small town close to the border of China in the northern mountains of Vietnam. From Sa Pa, travelers can arrange a trek to minority villages and home stays with people that live in the minority villages.

The plan was to meet some fellow Halong Bay travelers at 9am at the cafe next to the hotel to make an early morning visit to Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum where the venerable ruler's body is preserved and on display for the general public. I promptly overslept, as did my fellow travelers I learned later, and ran off across town to make it to the last viewing at 11am.

After two days in Hanoi and three cities on my own, I was ready for an organized tour. The plan was to go East to Halong Bay, a stretch of water filled with small, uninhabited limestone cliffs and one big island called Cat Ba.

Okay, so it was a pretty boring day in Hanoi. Not that I mind boring. Bored is a nearly impossible state of mind at home as there is always something you should be doing or someone you should be calling, and if not, there's an apartment that could use some cleaning, a sock drawer to be straightened, et al.

The hard berth was hard, but bearable. No bruises, but not a lot of sleep either. Arrive in Hanoi at 6am to a dark train station and a mist of rain -- the first since I've been here. I found a decent motobike driver who took me to the right place for the agreed upon price, no hassles.

For my second and last day in Hue, I decided to get up early and bike to a mausoleum or two in the countryside. Getting up early is not a problem as my room looks over one of the busiest street in town and the horn blowing and moped traffic starts just as the light is penetrating my chintzy polyester curtains. And a bike ride through the countryside is a great prospect, rusty Schwinn and sore butt aside.

Hue is an enchanting city. And I am not just saying that because I was able to feast at two buddhist restaurants exclusively serving vegetarian food. But feast I did. After a long day of cycling on a rusty bike with an uncomfortable seat and pedals that rotated in the shape of a lopsided grapefruit , I rather deserved those meals. And dessert.

Continue...

Day two in Hoi An went like this:
1. Eat tofu vegetable soup for breakfast. Begin sweating.

2. Purchase items in the market that will be too heavy to ship home and break on the way.

Hoi An is the town where people come to get clothes made. It's got some historical value, too, like Chinese Assembly Halls and Chinese Houses from the 1800's (or was that the 800's?). And then there's the charm of an ancient city that stayed its ground and refused to succumb to the changes of modern life.

The blue shirted porter led me down the linoleum lined train corridor to a sleeping compartment. There were four mattresses attached to the walls -- two up, two down -- with a space in between to maneuver yourself into your assigned bunk.

Back in Saigon after a four day beach retreat and a five hour bus ride through rush hour Saigon traffic. I have a few hours to kill before I have to be at the train station for my 18 hour trip north. I spent up an hour or two eating a mediocre vegetarian dinner but a really cute 12-year old girl selling gum got the better of me and I bought her dinner.

The day began with some much needed exercise. Traveling requires long, tiresome stretches of latency -- lots of sitting on busses, trains, boats and mopeds with your knees cramped against the seat in front of you or your body settled into an uncomfortable position for hours.

A five hour bus ride outside of Saigon deposited me at the lovely beach town of Mui Ne, complete with palm trees and a strong ocean breeze. On a recommendation, I chose to break the bank with a $30/night room at a top notch beach resort called the Mui Ne sailing club.

Humidity and my hair do not get along. Humidity blesses my hair with a firzzy glow, a brillo-like sheen . The hair follicles saturate with moisture and my already full head of hair expands outward and shrinks upward so that it takes the shape of an unruly topiary and assumes the texture of a kiwi.

I went to bed with a phone call from my family and was awoken by a phone call from my boyfriend. For the first time, I felt homesick. Talking to the people you love widens the distance, makes you feel how far away they really are and how many days there are ahead before you see them again. But it's nothing that a little shopping can't solve.

Score: one invitation to a house party in Saigon, courtesy of a NY acquaintance of my boyfriend living in Saigon. Accompanied by Jenny, a Harvard grad named Max who we picked up at the Cambodia border and a plastic bag loaded with one bottle of rice vodka, four cold Saigon beers and a mid-priced bottle of red wine, we headed to District 3, where the party at.

I loved Bangkok. I liked Phnom Penh. I adore Saigon.

I feel at home in Saigon. Perhaps it is that my hotel room is tiny and clean and a fourth floor of a walkup, just like my apartment. Perhaps it is because it has all the modern conveniences of Bangkok without the squalor and raw sewage smell.

With no hopes of getting boat transport to Saigon from Vinh Long (a town halfway between the Vietnam/Cambodia border and Saigon), me and my traveling companions decided to become complete tourists for a day. We hired a 1/2 day cruise that looped through the narrow canals of the Mekong with some visits to locals along the way.

Four hours from Chau Doc to Vinh Long.
Three hours to wait before the minibus left the station.
Four european-sized travelers packed into the back row of the minibus.

With our new friends, the American and two Brits, we rented motor bikes and picked a destination on the map. Ba Chuc. Pronouncing it Baaa Choook Ahhh got us more mileage and better directions. The comforts of English speaking Cambodia were far behind.