Hoi An seems to be considered by LonelyPlanet as a culinary highlight in Vietnam, in addition to being a very beautiful city. LonelyPlanet doesn't lie. Excellent cooking courses and great food all over. And the view of the city is photogenic, to say the least.
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After five days in busy Saigon, it was about time to start the journey from South to North, preferably to some calmer location. After some consideration, I decided upon Dalat as next destination. Lonely Planet called it "little Paris", which, after having walked through town for a day, I found a somewhat overly positive description. But Dalat is the place to be in Vietnam for adventure sports. Some peer pressure from the guys in my hostel, led me to try canyoning; a budgetary splurge, but fun! Next day, a motorbike trip with an easy rider, through the Dalat countryside.
After a surprisingly unproblematic flight, I arrived at my first destination: Ho Chi Minh City, aka Saigon. Not having had a decent sleep for over 48 hours, I very much longed for a private room to have a good rest. Without much fussing I settled for a rather expensive double room at the end of the busy and quite noisy Pham Ngu Lao, the Saigon pendant of the Bangkok Khao San Road. Despite the constant buzzing and honking of passing scooters, I slept like a baby, for 12 hours straight. The days thereafter were spent exploring the city and its surroundings (including a - rather disappointing - trip to the Mekong Delta and one - more worthwile - trip to the Cu Chi tunnels) and figuring out a game plan for my month in Vietnam.
I had been playing with the idea for quite some time. I think ever since a friend of mine gave me this book "cycling home from Siberia" written by Rob Lilwall, the boyfriend of her officemate in London. Storyline in short (as I remember it): UK teacher sets off to travel part of the world by bicycle for a couple of months, and ends up doing so for nearly 3 years. Ever since reading that book, I felt like some day, I would like do something similar. It took me another 5 years before actually converting that vague feeling into concrete steps. But in the summer of 2015, I finally found my courage to hand in my sabbatical request. Nine months later, 16 March 2016, Departure Day was there. After a super-hectic last two weeks of running like a madman to get all preparatory actions done, and a last sleepless night in Belgium (mostly spent packing and doing admin), I was sitting at the breakfast table at my dad's, with a very akward feeling, wondering what on earth I was thinking when I decided to go travel the world by myself for a year. But there was a plane seat waiting for me, no turning back now. One of my dear friends was so kind to bring me to the airport, and after one last coffee in the airport entrance lobby (luckily for us, one week before the despicable Brussels terror attacks), I walked to the boarding gate with very, very cold feet.
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