It started as a simple stroll through the Mai Chau countryside. One guide and 10 women exploring some Vietnam adventure travel — just walking from A to B, striding past the sights, smells, and sounds of our surroundings. A few minutes into our walk, we rounded a corner and could hear laughter, music and lively conversation coming from a private garden just off the pathway. Without hesitation, our guide Phuong headed confidently in the direction of the garden. Barely 5 ft tall but with a personality larger than life, Phuong was adamant that her mission as our guide was to never pass up an opportunity during this journey to bridge the gap between observer and observed, tourist and local.
This was day six of our Northern Vietnam Explorer tour, and we had learned by now that we could trust Phuong’s leadership, so when she waved for us to follow, we did. A young couple greeted us warmly as we entered the garden, unfazed by the unannounced nature of our visit. The gathering, as we discovered, was preparations for their wedding celebration, which was to begin that evening. The couple and several hundred of their family and closest friends were all there, together, working diligently on last-minute preparations. Rural Vietnamese weddings, as we learned, often involve entire villages.
Within minutes, we were introduced to the bride and groom’s parents and grandparents and led through the garden to observe the inner workings of a traditional Vietnamese wedding. There were groups of women sitting together on the floor prepping spring rolls, others stirring large pots of sticky rice, and some boiling chicken. Everybody, it seems, has a job to do. Men smoke together while tuning their instruments; others are setting up tables and chairs. Weddings in Vietnam last for days, we are told—usually 3, sometimes more. It is fascinating to be ‘behind the scenes’ getting an insider’s look into Vietnamese culture. As we say goodbye to the young couple, the bride’s grandmother walks over and invites us to stay and join the wedding celebration. Vietnam, as Phuong has helped us discover, is legendary for its hospitality, and because of her, we had ‘stepped off the beaten path’ on our journey through northern Vietnam more times than we could count, discovering this cultural nuance firsthand.
As the tourism industry continues to grow, so do the ways in which travel experiences evolve. Yet evolution doesn’t always mean bigger, faster, longer, or further. There is a growing desire for meaning. For connection and authenticity. To slow the pace down and go beyond the days of whirlwind bus tours and gated resorts. To step, literally, off the beaten path, to explore Vietnam adventure travel, which Phuong did with us, time and time again.
We thanked the grandmother for her gracious invitation and the young couple for their willingness to share their world so openly with us, explained that we had pre-arranged plans we could not miss, and wished them the very best, then continued along our walk.
From the moment our group was introduced to one another in Hanoi one week prior, it was clear that connection mattered to us all. The 10 of us were here, each for our own reasons, yet we had come together, seeking camaraderie and a communal experience in a foreign land with a group of like-minded women. Sisters approaching their 80’s who were traveling together for the first time; a daughter in-law accompanying them; a 40-something year old mother with teenagers at home and in fairly solid need of a rest and reset; a recent divorcee; an adventurous couple who share a deep love for travel; a wife whose husband’s travel interests didn’t include Vietnam; a late-40’s professional admittedly loving the single life and me, a photography buff, hoping to capture the beauty that is Northern Vietnam. We were here on our own accord, but seeking a shared and meaningful experience.
The opportunity to ‘go beyond’ the surface and travel in a deeper way began from our very first moments in Hanoi. There was the cooking class, where we rolled up our sleeves alongside Vietnamese women to chop, stir-fry, and enjoy a traditional lunch together in a private home, and the afternoon tea ceremony, where we sat cross-legged, steeping pots of dried leaves and listening to the zen teachings of a traditional tea master. But it was dinner on day two that made it crystal clear that Wild Women journeys are intentionally crafted around a theme of ‘connection and immersion’.
We were invited into the home of an elderly Vietnam War veteran who had seven daughters, all of whom live together in an extended family complex down a narrow alleyway in central Hanoi. The daughters and their husbands had prepped traditional dishes for days in anticipation of our visit. Their greetings upon our arrival felt like a homecoming, as the grins on their faces were insuppressible, and hugs were being handed out like we were old friends before we had even come through the door. We ate until we could no more, and after dinner were invited upstairs to sit beside the family’s Buddhist altar, listening to them tell stories (translated by Phuong) of difficult days gone by, of cultural shifts, of war, of forgiveness. The father played his Dan Bau for us—a traditional Vietnamese one-string wooden instrument—and, to be honest, a few tears of empathy and compassion were shed as we heard a lifetime of emotion pour out through his songs. As we said our goodbyes, there were more hugs and expressions of gratitude for opening their home and their hearts to us, and we were all, admittedly, a little richer for having experienced this night together.
As we left the urban bustle of Hanoi behind and headed east, it quickly became clear to us that Vietnamese landscapes are a visual gift to the planet, just as its rich natural diversity is an ecological one. To the north of us were the deeply carved mountain ranges of Hoang Lien National Park, where the women on our Vietnam hiking adventure were exploring ancient foot paths between a network of ethnic H’Mong and Red Dao villages. Meanwhile, our home on the Explorer for the next few days was on a boat heading east into the South China Sea, where we sailed past limestone karst formations, kayaked on turquoise waters, and sipped on equally colourful cocktails from our deck lounge chairs. Lan Ha Bay, part of the world-renowned Ha Long Bay UNESCO World Heritage Site, is off the charts in terms of beauty, unique natural formations, and biodiversity. We spent our time here enjoying getting to know one another a little more, laughing and sharing stories as we explored the bay on wooden boats, paddling through caves to hidden, lush coves and on bicycles, riding through terraced fields to nearby fishing villages. We started our mornings with Tai Chi on the upper deck and ended them watching the sun sink below the Red River Delta.
Leaving our floating home behind, we drove west from Ha Long Bay a few hours inland to stunning Ninh Binh, otherwise known as ‘Ha Long Bay on Land’. Here, similar Karst formations jut upwards from emerald rice terraces, and riverbanks are lined with towering crimson-flowering Kapok trees, dotted with Egrets and Blue Herons. By now, we were beginning to feel as if we had stepped back in time, as the pace of rural Vietnamese life stands in stark contrast to that of its urban counterpart. Bicycles seemed to outnumber cars, and traditional clothing was beginning to outnumber jeans and sneakers the further we drove from the city. We visited Hoa Lu, once the ancient capital of Vietnam and in our two days in Ninh Binh, we only touched the tip of the iceberg of this region’s fascinating history. We boarded sampans, traditional wooden boats, to explore the area’s limestone cave systems up close and personal. Our sampan driver, Ninh, told us she has been paddling guests on this river since she was 16 years old. Paddling the oars with her feet rather than her hands, Ninh tells us this is fulfilling but strenuous work and that using her feet has allowed her to continue her work as long as she has. Tourism, she said, has allowed her to earn enough from her sampan work to live comfortably and support her family. She is now 58 and plans to retire within the year. Younger sampan drivers will take her place, she explains, as the need for these boat drivers continues to grow, as tourists are increasingly wanting to experience the traditional side of life.
Our exploration of these ‘traditional’ sides of life in Vietnam continued as we entered the deeply carved mountain ranges above the Mai Chau region and the village of Pa Co—an area occupied for hundreds of years by the Blue H’Mong people. Their livelihoods are tied to the cultivation of indigo and hemp, as well as to their intricate Batik textile artisanship. When we arrived in their scenic hilltop village, we were met by a small group of H’Mong women dressed in brightly embroidered skirts who walked us past their hemp plots and into small workshops where they demonstrated the weaving of their hemp on handmade wooden looms. From here, led by these skilled women, it was our turn to try our hand at creating our own Batiks. The H’Mong people do not have a written language, so they created their own forms of expression; they embraced Batik as a way to capture and preserve their stories, history, and culture. Intricate symbols, often inspired by nature, became a shared means of communication and cultural perpetuation. The women handed us wooden stamps which we dipped into a pot of melted beeswax and indigo paste, taking turns creating our own patterns. We quickly gained an appreciation for the skill and patience required to create these fabrics. While we left that day with our own handmade pieces, we also had time to choose from their array of unique Batiks, supporting their community and leaving not only with their beautiful fabrics, but with a small and fascinating insight into ethnic life in Vietnam.
Our home for this night and several more while we explored the Mai Chau region was the Avana Retreat. There are unique and beautiful accommodations in this world, and then, surpassing most of them, there is the Avana. Nestled deeply into the landscape and cloud forests above Mai Chau, the Avana Retreat is designed around the concept of the ‘inseparable and deep connection between people and nature’. It sits on a 15-hectare piece of largely untouched land, a waterfall flowing freely through the centre of the property. An infinity pool blends into the surrounding landscape, mimicking its terraced rice fields, while an open-air spa sits at the top lip of the waterfall, kept private by lush tropical foliage. Avana is a work of art as much as it is a conscientious local employer. Over 90% of the retreat’s staff are from the local Thai, H’Mong and Muong communities of Mai Chau. Most of them are farmers, dependent on their yearly income from only two rice crops. Training was provided free to local communities, and not only do they run the daily operations, but they are also involved in facilitating cultural activities and traditional workshops, and in influencing the resort’s design, construction, and maintenance. Staying at Avana felt like a win-win and a far cry from the all-too-common fate that mass tourism has subjected many a once-pristine environment and local community to.
After we say our goodbyes to the young, soon-to-be-wed bride and groom, Phuong leads us back out onto the rural pathway that connects the White Thai villages of the Mai Chau valley. We pass by plantations of jackfruit, mangoes, and cassava, endless freshly planted rice fields, and tall wood-framed stilt houses. It’s not long before she leads us directly into our next immersive moment, and we find ourselves helping a mother and daughter cut, peel, and press long stalks of sugarcane. We sit next to the path, in the shade of her farm stand, enjoying our freshly harvested glass of sugar cane juice and the accumulation of a little more insight into the behind-the-scenes of daily life in rural Vietnam. A few more minutes down the path, and we are now climbing steep stairs that lead us into the small living room in the home of a White Thai elder. Phuong had just made casual acquaintances with her moments before, but wanting us to see the inside of a local home, she had convinced this friendly woman to open her door to 10 strangers with only a moment’s notice. The smile on our host’s face told us this was clearly something she was happy to do and for our brief visit, we sat all together on the floor of her stilt house as Phuong translated that our host had been widowed decades earlier and spends every moment, day in and day out, working the fields to help support her three sons and many grandchildren. Feeling grateful for her time, Phuong left her with a donation in exchange for her hospitality, which at first she refused to accept, but Phuong insisted. Again, Vietnamese hospitality is remarkable.
Daylight was fading as we waved goodbye to our latest host, and our long walk was coming to an end. Sensing our group’s readiness to curl up in our cozy retreat after a full day of activity, Phuong giggled as she said, ‘Only one more stop’ and ‘Dance now, sleep later’. Our last stop at the end of this already incredibly immersive journey was a home-cooked meal at a local family’s courtyard and a special performance of local White Thai women dancers. At first, we just sat and observed, still processing the events of the day as the women moved in unison, dancing to the rhythms of their traditional White Thai music, telling stories of culture and history through their choreography. But soon the women reached out their hands, gesturing for us to join them on the dance floor. Sheepishly at first, we moved with them, awkwardly trying to replicate their steps. Their laughter and soon ours broke down our inhibitions, and before we knew it, we were twirling hand in hand with our hosts to the music of their culture, smiling and laughing together in a language that is universal.
See how we travel Vietnam Wild Women style.
