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For years I’d set Vietnam on such a high pedestal, no experience could possibly achieve the dizzy heights I’d dreamt of, but standing on the side of the street in Hanoi, I realised the only thing that was dizzy, was me. Even though I was standing in front of a crazy, fast, noisy cacophony of motorbikes, cars and cyclists, the world in front of me transformed into slow motion. All the guide books and friendly advice I’d been given suddenly seemed so false. It couldn’t possibly be true that I would survive traversing this crossing in front of me, by simply walking calmly and with a steady pace. No. I’d be run over. But, it was either that, or return to the hotel and reside in my room forever. I took a breath, the world snapped back to its normal (well, Asia-normal) pace and there was only one thing I could do: take a step. So I did. One step and another and another, until I reached the other side of the road. In that tiny moment, I felt like I’d conquered everything and could survive this trip. All from crossing a road, I know it sounds trivial. But for me, it represented so much more and the next ten days led me down a path of amazing discovery about myself and changed my life. This wasn’t my first time travelling to Asia, travelling alone or travelling for a substantial amount of time, but it was the first time I was setting all three of those situations together in a place I’d dreamt of visiting for over ten years. The trip was to take me southbound starting from Hanoi, across to Halong Bay, down to Hué, then Hoi An and finishing in Ho Chi Minh City. After that I would cross the border to Cambodia to finish my trip at Angkor Wat. My first encounter was during my slow wander around Hoan Kiem Lake, where a young Vietnamese girl approached me to ask if she could practice her English. A minute later, a couple ran toward me and, in very broken English, apologised and scolded their daughter. I explained there was no problem and would love to speak with her. The parents took a few steps back and as their daughter began talking to me, I saw their faces change from annoyance to pride. She asked where I was from, why I was in Vietnam, how long I planned to stay and if I liked Beyoncé! I answered all her questions and asked some of my own, which she understood and responded to eloquently and perfectly. After ten minutes, her parents retrieve her, but not before asking if they could take a picture with me. I said yes and we exchanged cameras so I could have one to keep. I treasure that memory because I don’t know if that little girl asked every tourist if she could practice her English with them, but in that moment she chose me. Another day I was about to witness my main reason for wanting to travel to Vietnam. I had always been desperate to see Halong Bay and after an extremely bumpy, four-hour journey from Hanoi, I arrived beside a melancholy looking bay. Honestly, my heart sank. Where were the clear blue skies? Where was the sparkling water? Where were the gleaming limestone rocks? I boarded the boat and as we sailed out into the Bay and began to learn about its mythical dragon and legends of battle, my mind changed about the beauty I’d expected. It wasn’t in glorious shades of blue and glimmering waters, it was in the history and the magic. The gloomy skies added to its mystery and charm and I drowned in all its glory. That night as the sun descended, I lay on the top deck of the boat and listened to the absolute silence as if I were the only person in the world. The next morning I woke to find the sparkly waters and bright sunshine I had so desired and, although the scenery took my breath away, there was something I’d captured from the day before that was considerably more special.