Good morning, Vietnam!

True life: I have never watched ANY of the “Fast & Furious” movies. Maybe you find this typical (I’m not really the target demo, anyhow). Maybe you find this offensive (sorry, Vin Diesel fans). Maybe you find it just plain weird (after all, there are nine films in the franchise … shouldn’t I have seen at least one?!)

But even though I haven’t seen the series, I’m pretty sure I’ve actually starred in the unnamed, upcoming 10th movie. The set? Vietnam. The storyline? One solo female traveller makes her way through the country from north to south, sometimes on a motorbike … but oftentimes on a crappy night bus. The catch? She has just 21 days to see nine cities, venture more than 1,200 miles, and soak it all in. 

Seriously, though—it may be a bad extended metaphor … but it’s what my experience in Vietnam *really* felt like. By U.S. standards, three weeks sounds like a more than generous amount of time to visit any country. In reality, no amount of time anywhere is ever enough—but especially in Vietnam. The country is teeming with incredible sights and sounds, insane nature, next-level flavor, and fascinating culture (particularly for Americans). Here’s a roundup of a few of my coolest adventures there that were action-movie worthy (at least for me ):

Motorbike mania

Motorbikes aren’t just a mode of transportation in Southeast Asia … they’re a way of life. Unfortunately, they were not a part of life that came naturally to me. I first hopped on a motorbike in Pai, Thailand. These scooters are literally a breeze to ride: there’s the gas handle, the two breaks, … and that’s it. You can’t even reverse them. You sit, and the bike goes. But for some reason—maybe because I don’t even drive cars that often living in New York City—scootin’ around tiny towns in Thailand was actually pretty stressful for me. Luckily, I had an amazing group of friends who would pull over every 10 minutes to wait for me to catch up as I moved at an actual glacial pace. Grandma’s here, ya’ll! 

My anxiety was further compounded at one of my last stops in Thailand—Koh Lanta. A tiny island with one main road, I purposefully picked it as a destination because I thought motorbiking would be easier here. And it was. Over the course of two days, I felt like I was really starting to get the hang of riding. Until, that is, the accident. Biking with two other friends, we encountered slick roads on a very steep hill. My companion in front was riding slow—too slow. And just as I moved to pass him, he lost control of his bike … falling and taking me out in the process. I got quite a few scratches and bruises, but thankfully, nothing was actually broken—except my confidence.

Enter Vietnam. Motorbikes abound. You can’t even cross the street because bikes are zipping and zooming in every possible direction (traffic lights, you ask?! Fuggedaboutit!). On my third day, I made the mistake of trying to walk between two different neighborhoods in Hanoi at rush hour. Every intersection took me at least three to five minutes to navigate—and raised my blood pressure by a few digits, too. Needless to say, after arriving in Vietnam, it became abundantly clear that I might not be able to avoid motorbike riding this time around.

So, I bit the bullet. At this point, my scabs from Thailand had turned into a couple of badass scars … which meant it was time to jump back on the bike—literally. On Cat Ba island, I once again got into the groove, scooting around beautiful roads with a lovely “biker gang” of new friends. And in Phong Nha National Park, I sped through the relatively open roads, hitting 60 km/hr (a real record for me), and observing nature in an entirely new way.

On other, more challenging routes, I hired easy riders, hopping on the back of an experienced driver’s bike where I could enjoy the view. These trips—the Ha Giang Loop and the Hai Van Pass—truly felt like once-in-a-lifetime journeys. The Loop, specifically, was something I don’t think I’ll ever get over, ever. Spellbinding? Breathtaking? Thrill-seeking? Awe-inspiring? Jaw-dropping? Answer: All of the above. Turns out that even with all the stress and anxiety, motorbiking still came with some pretty unbeatable perks—and absolutely blew my mind. This unique form of travel gave me a new perspective, along with memories I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

Abandoned waterparks in ancient cities

Motorbiking may have been my main means of acquiring that adrenaline rush. But there were a few other events, too, that felt like they could only happen here—only in Vietnam. Like the time my friend, Tony, and I snuck into an abandoned waterpark in Hue, the country’s ancient capital.

Let me just clarify: the abandoned waterpark is not completely off the grid. Actually, it’s a really popular backpacker spot, well-documented on travel blogs and Instagram. Apparently, a big-deal company began construction on the park in 2004, but by 2006, it was abandoned … for reasons that even the most extensive Google search could not dig up.

From what we had read, there was very limited security; most accounts said you could just ride right in through the main gates. Some acquaintances we had met at our last hostel had breezed through earlier that same day. So Tony—my Australian buddy who conveniently spoke Vietnamese—and I called a Grab (like Uber for motorbikes) and paid our drivers to wait while we explored for a few hours.

But alas, no such luck. A random “guard” drove up and shooed us away. Undeterred, Tony communicated with our drivers to bring us to the other entrance at the main gate. But, once again, the same guard was there, waiting with his sidekick. Tony tried and tried: bribes were offered, words were exchanged, but the guard was unyielding. Luckily, so was Tony. At this point, four other backpackers had also arrived, and we had become a motley crew of six. After driving out from view, we decided to proceed on foot, with Tony serving as our fearless leader. It felt like a real Odyssey: we walked through woods, past a church, and through a farm, until we arrived at a locked gate. After giving Tony a boost over the wall, he found a side path we could take inside. And third time’s a charm. At long-last, we had made it! Gazing across the park from the mouth of a giant cement dragon (that was once the main attraction), we laughed at a safe distance when we saw the same guard, angrily yelling at us across a lake as he made another round on his bike. Mysterious? Not so much. Creepy? Kind of. Fun? Hell yeah.

A very merry Christmas Eve from the Sixth Floor Bar

Alright, last one! For most, a typical Christmas Eves in the States may involve some sort of feast, church, and family. For me, it was a bit different … but in the most amazing way possible.

I got the feast, for sure—a mouthwateringly delicious family dinner at the hostel where I was staying in Dalat, a city about 7-8 hours away from Saigon. After dinner, a group of us decided to keep the merriment going at a place called Maze Bar, an establishment full of winding stairs, zig-zagging levels, and crazy nooks and crannies (modeled after another tourist site in the city, called “Crazy House”). Unfortunately, Maze Bar closed at 12 … as did most of the bars in the city, it seemed. But as we were making our exit, an American man wearing a boat hat pulled up front in a sketchy white van.

“Hey guys. Sixth Floor Bar is just down the road. Open all night. Let me know if you want in. I’ll drive you.”

You know the expression, “When in Rome!”? It should definitely be changed to “When in Dalat!” We all looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and piled in (I’m not exaggerating when I say the van transformed into a straight-up clown car). Five minutes later, we approached what looked like a regular residential building and pulled into the garage. Was I thinking, “This is where I die.”? Maybe. But emboldened by our a large group, we loaded into the elevator, rode six floors to the top, and arrived at what was essentially an empty apartment with a dance floor—complete with strobe lights, glow in the dark paint, laughing gas balloons, and one of the greatest playlists of all time. And even though the place was literally *just us*, we partied hard—keeping the Christmas spirit going well into the early hours of the morning. It was a night that made the loneliness of missing home during the holidays feel a little bit farther away … and fun that I’ll never forget.