The world is full of travelers: of varied kinds, with varied tastes, and varied pace. When it comes to pace, travelers can be easily distinguished between two categories: fast-paced traveler, who love plunging straight into ticking all the to-do-list, and the other is the slow traveler who believes in wondering a lot while wandering often. Being an earnest explorer of places, having developed the zeal to discover new cultures and traditions through travelling,
I used to be the former one: a fast-paced traveler who hated missing on any spot. But with age, time, and experience, I have slowly developed the qualities of a slow traveler: one who hates to have a jam-packed itinerary. With time, I realized that slowing down doesn’t mean being lazy, rather it’s the key to know a place better, learn about the culture more thoroughly, and the most important of all, it leads to self-discovery and self-evaluation, and self-realizations.
Something which we hardly get time for in this rapid and frenetic world. This writing is about my experience of a 3-day trip to Vietnam, which I deliberately planned in a loose way, and the things it taught me about slow travel. Although the decision to make the trip was made in haste, I did not allow the hastiness to follow me in the trip. So, if you are tired of following a tight schedule even while travelling, this blog might change the way you plan your next trip!
The First Day in Vietnam
It was a busy Monday morning on which I landed in Hanoi. It felt like an unwanted hug from an overenthusiastic relative, the kind that leaves you baffled. If I been in my former self, I would have jumped straight into ticking boxes and collecting updates for my social-media handles. But being the kind of traveler that I have slowly transformed myself into, I refrained from bolting directly for Ha Long Bay or the tantalizing beaches.
I refused to be captivated by all those and ended by checking into a small, piquant homestay, from the shades of which hang lanterns, making it ideal to experience a slow travel without the burden of waking up to abrupt alarms, and travelling in cramped public transport to visit spots. I chose a room that overlooked a street food stall. While unpacking, I listened to the sizzling woks that sounded like a symphony and witnessed the hovering of the vendors’ call.
The first lesson I learnt at that very moment was that slow travel begins when you arrive at a place with zero agenda and with just an open heart, ready to embrace everything. I grabbed a cà phê sữa đá, an iced coffee with the optimal amount of sweetness, while sitting on the balcony for how long I don’t remember. As I sat there without being guided by the ticking of a clock or jumping into a navigating app, I learnt what an ideal slow-sipping day should look like. It felt like a sublime dream.
To-Do-List – Hanoi
The only to-do list I followed on the first afternoon was to roam without a fixed plan. Instead of taking a transport to go to the Hoan Kiem Lake, I decided to walk mindfully without being full in the mind. I saw women wearing conical hats riding bikes while balancing their baskets full of exotic fruits. I looked like a postcard. The raw scent of fresh banh mi, infused with the scent of the burning incense sticks in the temple, filled up my olfactory nerves. As the sun was clocking off, I spotted a park where localites were practicing tai chi, meditation in motion, which involves slow, and smooth flowing movement juxtaposed with mindful, and deep breathing. It was almost dusk, and the silhouette of the people felt surreal, like a fluid movement against the neon glow cast by the dusk.
I was greeted by an old man from that group with just a gesture and a smile. I felt as if I knew the person for a long time. The smile was full of love and warmth that it absolutely enamored me. At that very moment, I learnt another fact about slow travel that will serve as a lesson in my life as well: it is important to be present at the moment without getting bothered by perfection.
Sometimes being present with all your heart is something that matters the most. Sprinting steals from you the chances of experiencing this kind of natural connections, a lesson I will forever keep in mind while moving forward in life.
Mesmerizing Experience
Now, let me share a mesmerizing experience that will be etched forever in my heart. After spending some time in the park, I felt the hunger pangs and decided to have my dinner and started walking again in search of some local food instead of going to a fancy, sumptuous, and lavish restaurant. Just after walking mindfully for a few minutes, I came across a small hut selling piping hot beef slices and rice noodles. No ornate menu cards with plushy dishes to choose from. In one word, no extravaganza, just simplicity in its simplest form. The shop was run by a family of three: father, mother, and their daughter.
The ambience felt so warm, real, and alive. As I nibbled slowly, the teenage girl approached me, and within a few minutes, we started chatting. I realized that although the chef(father) and his wife couldn’t speak English, their teenage girl could speak broken English, the kind that is enough to have a good chat with a stranger. She shared the recipe of the dish I was having, which her mother inherited from her mother-in-law, and how she wishes to lead a simple life and take care of her parents. I learnt about their daily routine and struggles, happy moments, and the urge to live a quiet and peaceful life.
The savory cuisine fed my hunger while the stories catered to my soul. Being privileged enough to travel a lot, I have had the chance of dining at some of the finest restaurants with food stuffed with flavors, made from exotic ingredients, the names of which I could hardly recall now. But never in my life have I had the experience of having a soulful meal inside a tiny hut with dim lights. The taste of the beef steak, the rice noodles, the stories I heard, and the face of the young girl wearing ao ba ba, I will never forget in my life.
I returned to my homestay with a stomach full of beef steak and a heart full of memories. While journaling the experience of the entire evening, I realized another important thing about slow travelling. Indulgence is what redefines slow travel. It is about one’s engagement with small moments and utilizing time without being bound by a clock.
Day 2 Of My Trip
As promised to myself, I transcended into day two of my trip without any loud alarm. I woke up naturally when I felt like waking up, and it was around 8 am that I got out of my bed. Fresh and lively without being sleep deprived to visit all the ‘must-see’. Steamed Rice rolls stuffed with chunks of pork and mushroom was my breakfast. A typical Vietnamese cuisine, which they call banh cuon. To make it extra flavorful, it was served with nuoc cham sauce, a perfect balance of sweet, salty, and spicy flavors.
My first destination for the day was Vietnam’s first and oldest university, the Temple of Literature, established in 1070. I wasn’t surprised to see swarms of people in the courtyard taking selfies, refusing to miss the chance of gathering the best photographs for social media. But never for a second did I feel the urge to do so. It felt meaningless to capture photographs instead of capturing the cultural authenticity of the place with all my sense organs in a mindful way, without rushing and allowing pauses wherever it was required. I saw a group of school kids who had probably come as part of an educational one-day visit.
I exchanged words with one of them in English, who taught me how to pronounce “Hanoi” the right way, like a local. After sitting on a bench under a big, fat, old frangipani tree for as long as my heart wanted, I went to my next spot of the day: West Lake. A kind fisherman, who was paddling in between the lotus flowers that bobbed on the water, gave me a tour of the lake in his rowboat in exchange for a minimal amount of money, which he was hell bound to not accepting.
We sailed amid the blooms, lazily, and watched the shimmering gold pagodas on the water. I could hear the sound of the rippling water and dragonflies gliding on the surface of the water. Meanwhile, it was time for lunch. Without being skeptical and with much scrutiny, I went inside a café facing towards the lake. There were old men playing board games. The café was exhibiting a warm and cozy vibe. I ordered com tam, rice with ham steak, pickled veggies, and a sunny-side up to match my beaming mood. The food was good, and the staff served it with a subtle and welcoming smile in his face.
As I crossed sight with one of the old men from the group smiled at me, and I smiled back, the way we smile seeing an old acquaintance passing by in the street. Day two ended with dinner at the Quan An Ngon. An open-air exhibition of food stalls, starting from bun cha to banh xeo pancakes, a typical Vietnamese dish made from rice flour, coconut milk, and turmeric. I tried visiting every stall before deciding what to have for dinner.
As I hopped from one stall to another, I patiently allowed the shop owners to explain the speciality of the dish they were selling. In the meantime of stall hopping, I met an old woman selling bun cha, grilled pork with vermicelli, who, along with explaining what bun cha is, shared her heart-wrenching story of surviving during the COVID. As she narrated her story of survival through delivering food door to door, her eyes glistened, and so were mine. I got engrossed in her story in such a way that I forgot to even ask her name. Something I regret as I write this blog. On my way back to the homestay,
I realized that a fast-paced travel helps you collect a variety of souvenir, but a slow travel fills you up with stories, and in the end, everything becomes an act of connecting souls. A slow traveler isn’t someone who crashes in, but rather a long-staying guest who becomes a part of the family by the time the person leaves.
My Third Day in Vietnam
The third and the last day, like the other two days, started slowly. In the morning, I journaled my last day’s experience, read a book and in the afternoon went to a random café that looked appealing in the most serene and peaceful way. I ordered spring rolls and Thit Kho (caramelized pork belly). Just after finishing my lunch, coming out of the café, my eyes were stuck on a poster of a water puppet show.
I felt the happiness of a child and, without losing a moment’s time, made up my mind. I glanced at my clock and slowly proceeded towards the venue. The show was filled with colors. Vibrant colors of all shades and hues spread a magic all across the place. Colorful wooden puppets were dancing on the pond stage, and they were even swimming to drumbeats.
A kind audience, sensing that I couldn’t figure out the language in which the folklore was being performed, described the story to me. I had a wonderful time filled with joy, laughter, and shared happiness. I was so full of the memories I gathered that the last night I skipped dinner, yet went to bed with a sense of fulfillment.
Conclusion
The days waned, and the trip finally came to an end. It was time for me to check out and head towards the airport for my flight. I did everything slowly. Packed my bag, did all the formalities in time, and reached the airport without any rush. While the plane was preparing to take off, moving through the run way, and I was reflecting upon this short, slow, fulfilling trip, I realized that because of slow-pace I have missed many spots of attraction that tourists traveling to Vietnam usually don’t afford to miss. Yet, on the other hand, I realized that I was unhampered by this.
No FOMO, no fury. I barely had space to think of the things I missed, because I was so contented with the memories I gather, people I met, the stories I heard, the cuisines I tasted, and the lessons I learnt. I hope to travel to Vietnam again, maybe for a week, to experience it more. But what I can vouch for at this moment is that, wherever I go next, no matter for how many days, I will be a slow traveler, experiencing all the tidbits of the trip!
