Dead Ends at Our Doorstep

Rumour had it people were wearing masks at the airport. My mum slipped a few into my MASSIVE first aid kit she had made me bring on my travels (she's a nurse- and an Irish mammy). As we said our goodbyes, my stomach was tight with the obvious anxieties one would have to embark on a year-long trip across the globe- ‘What if I run out of money?’, ‘What if my phone gets robbed?’, ‘What if I consistently have food poisoning?’, What if the wifi is terrible and I can't contact home?’, ‘What if we miss our connecting flight?’- the usual. One other fear crept into my mind, what if I caught the Coronavirus? The Chinese border is at the top of Vietnam, and at the time, the outbreak of the virus in Wuhan engulfed every network of mainstream media. We had planned our travel to begin in Saigon, the south of the country, with we plan to move upward and travel to the Northern capital, Hanoi. We wished to get to Hanoi and hit up the famous motorbike loop around Ha Giang, Vietnam's northernmost province bordering China. This made me nervous at the time, but repeating the mantra I had created for myself,’be brave’, I looked forward with anticipation.

Saigon was our first stop, and as we flew through the bustling city I became highly stimulated. The city was booming, the roads covered with motorbikes and street vendors utilising every inch of space on the streets. We stayed in District 1- otherwise known as ‘backpackers district’. This is where the signs began to show. We witnessed very little backpackers. Our hostel lady exclaimed that usually, Saigon was 70% busier, but with the increasing cases of the Coronavirus emerging, tourism had begun to diminish. Although what she said was true, we were remaining positive and eager to experience the vibrant scene of Saigon, which we did. However, as we sat together on a rooftop bar gazing over the city at night drinking beers, we began to mention the peculiarity of not meeting multiple other travelers.

This was the beginning, as we began to make our way up the country, with each destination bringing a slow increase of panic and an increase of global cases of the virus. It also brought an increase of fear in us and our travel plans, as we communicated to friends we knew who were in the North, hearing stories of specific nationalities being banned from hostels, shops, and restaurants. As we arrived in Dalat, a mountainous region often referenced as ‘Le Petit Paris’, we got to our hostel, to find out we were the only people staying there. This was eerie, and the next day we moved hostels to one that was claimed to be a popular pick for backpackers, and at last, we made some new friends. As we got to know these lovely people and their individual stories, we also got informed of more stories coming from the North. Things were looking increasingly dismal, with many places being closed and again, an encroaching mood in Vietnam that westerners were the carriers, and being denied stay at places they made reservations at, and with certain hostels issuing quarantines. These stories were also alongside stories about the beautiful, fascinating wonders that the North had to offer, being peoples favourite destination of Vietnam, and some of anywhere they had ever been before. Although the feeling of fear of the unknown was increasingly growing, we were hearing very mixed narratives and felt unsure as to what to listen to. This began to trouble us.

As we arrived at our next destination, located in the centre of the country, the ancient town of Hoi An, we felt tired. We had just boarded a 14 hour night bus on which the driver who only spoke Vietnamese had aggressively screamed at every tourist to get to the back of the bus, enforcing us to sit where they demanded and had shouted and humiliated me personally as I get travel sickness and had tried to persuade them to let me sit nearer the front of the bus, considering those seats were empty. When Vietnamese individuals came onto the bus, they were shown to seats at the front of the bus and handed bottles of water. It was my first experience of feeling like there was a direct feeling of blame being placed on backpackers. While this happened, unbeknownst to me more cases were happening in Vietnam that was mainly being brought in by westerners. Hoi An itself saw an increase in cases in a matter of days. Here is one of the latest statements from Vietnam Briefing’s website: ‘As of March 24, Vietnam’s Ministry of Health confirmed a total of 123 cases of COVID-19. The latest cases were all linked to international flights. 19 cases were announced on March 22 itself – the biggest single-day total.’. Hoi An, a hugely popular tourist destination that experiences over 3 million tourists a year, was dead. However, our hostel was filled with tourists, all on their phones, all extending their stay at our hostel, and all booking flights home. Things changed dramatically in a couple of days. Europe saw a huge increase in cases, and the Vietnamese government closed its borders. This meant that anyone whose visa was running out couldn't renew their visa by doing the ‘visa run’- a trip to the border of Laos or Cambodia to pay a small fee to re-enter Vietnam and have your visa renewed by either a month ($25) or three ($50). Many people were being advised to leave Vietnam, tourist destinations such as Sapa and Ha Long Bay were being announced as shut.

Originally, we had planned to stay in Hoi An for one night and continue North. Our stay ended up being 5 nights, which we spent trying to figure out our next move. We weighed up our original plan to continue North and ruled out that option, we looked into moving to Bali or Thailand to hopefully wait this out, then found out that flights were being cancelled and more restrictions were being put in place, we considered Laos or Cambodia but knew if we left, we wouldn't get back in again, we considered moving home, but we both knew we had come too far to go back. This brought us to our final decision, to move to Da Nang, a city around 30 minutes away from Hoi An. We found an Airbnb, signed a lease for a month ( with the possibility of it being three if we can extend our visa’s after our three months run-up) and for the last time in a while, unpacked our rucksacks. While this halt in our travels had happened, we also dealt with Ireland experiencing a complete lockdown, with our friends and families miles away and experiencing quarantines, a loss of income and social lives, an increase in cases and an increase in fear. Although here we may not officially be in self-isolation, we are currently isolated in a ghost town, with very little open, a language barrier, a small money fund and a fear of the unknown. All domestic flights have now officially stopped, so no matter what, right now, this is our home away from home.

Every morning I wake up, the sunbeams through my window and I gaze upon an urban landscape, rich with life. Every morning I walk down to the beautiful beach and watch the waves gently forming and slowly evaporating. Every morning I feel gratitude, I realise that I am one of the lucky ones and that I have been blessed with this incredible opportunity, which I intend to make the most of, whatever that may be.

Grateful for my loving friends and family who have continued to support me.

Grateful for my health.

Grateful for the opportunity to be in this beautiful country.

Grateful for the experiences I have had so far.

Grateful for nature, reminding us all of the changing seasons of life and that the only thing constant, is change.