"Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls..."

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” says the song. “Please stick to the rivers and lakes that you’re used to....”

Flashback to my 10 year-old-self walking down Donegal Springs Road on the way to the Mount Joy pool, yellow walkman in hand and my bffl Erica by my side, singing our hearts out as we personally identify with the street wise words of Chile, T-Boz, and Lisa Left-Eye--the collective TLC.


Flash forward to last weekend: Emily W. and I are on the backs of motorbikes going 70+ km/hour around the jagged mountains that border China. Signs yelling “Attention: Frontier” whiz by as our questionable-looking drivers again take that curve a little too tight and my heart again lodges itself in my esophagus.

We are literally chasing a waterfall. All I can say is I should’ve listened to T-Boz.

See, a few weeks ago Emily came up with this great idea to go see the largest waterfall in Vietnam. It sits right on the border with China and is supposed to be really beautiful. Emily doesn’t even need to sell me on this idea; I think it sounds great. Best of all, it is off the proverbial “beaten track.” I sign on, and we are ready for adventure.



When you’re a westerner living in Viet Nam, it’s easy to get cocky. Not only do you think you’re better than any tourists, you also think all tourists are idiots. Oftentimes you are right, but that’s another blog post. These feelings eventually lead to a desire to go off the beaten track...To go where few westerners have gone before....To dig your heels into the Vietnamese soil and see where it takes you...

...to make poor life choices you will never be able to tell your mother about....

The plan was a good one. We would go to Cao Bang, the town where the waterfall is located, via sleeper bus. The ride would be 9 hours, but armed with my snuggie, kindle, Eddie Bauer reading light, and benadryl I’d get through OK. Emily and I also stocked up on Oreos and Crackers. Later we would find these packaged goods to be manna from heaven .

The bus was packed, and Emily and I were lodged in the back row where the bathroom would be in most bus-type situations. Being as this was not most bus-type situations, there was no bathroom. I repeat: 9 hour bus ride.The bus was filled with mostly men...men lying in the aisles, men laying their seat into Emily’s lap, men sleeping on my shoulder, men putting their feet onto other men’s seats, men with the stinkiest feet I’ve ever smelt. It was a long 9 hours, made infinitely longer when I woke up at about 1am to feel the bus CAREENING around steep cliffs and nearly plummeting off the edge more than once; I couldn’t sleep for fear that I would miss my own death.

We arrived at Cao Bang at about 4:30 am and went to our hotel. No one spoke English for miles, so between some creative Vietnamese (on Emily’s part) and some creative charades (on my part) we communicated that we had a reservation and wanted to check in. After sleeping for a few hours, we decided to do what we had come to do: see the waterfall! We negotiated with the hotel to arrange two motorbike taxis to take us there. We could have gone by car, but it was more expensive and HEY! we were there for an adventure.

This was a mistake.

We thought the waterfall was about 2 hours away. It was, in fact, 3 1/2 hours away and only accessible via some of the steepest, most dangerous roads I have ever been on. These were also some of the shadiest looking Xe Om (Motorbike taxi) drivers I had ever met. There were times I thought they were racing. There were times I thought they were drunk.

How was the waterfall? Let’s just say it was dry season. The waterfalls’ one redeeming quality was that it is right on the border, so now I can say I saw China. So that’s cool, right?


After the somewhat disappointing waterfall, Emily and I enlisted our Xe Om drivers to take us to Tiger Cave. This place was legitimately cool. The cave was used as a Vietnamese hospital during China’s most recent invasion (late 70s-early 80s). My pictures didn’t turn out great (because I was in a cave) but the rock formations were really awesome. Also, there were 2 little local Vietnamese girls who followed us through the cave and kept hiding and giggling.



By the time we finished at the cave, we were pretty well shot. We were also starving. While our drivers finished their game of pool--and presumably their shots of rice wine--at a nearby house, Emily and I got a cute old man to sell us some dry noodles and hot water. He kept talking to us and giving us a knowing look like, “You understand me, yes?” But we didn’t. It wasn’t English, but it didn’t sound Vietnamese either. Finally we realized he was saying “Bonjour” and “Merci.” We bonjoured right back, but explained that we’d come from America. Crazy to think that man probably learned his French back when France still occupied Vietnam.

Eventually the drivers finished shooting pool and beckoned us to leave. The ride back to town was just as harrowing, if not more so. By the time we got back to the hotel at dark, Emily and I both felt like we had aged 10 years. My eyes were literally bloodshot, and both of our bodies were sore from staying so tense for the SIX hours on the motorbike. We took a unanimous vote and decided to head back to Hanoi first thing in the morning.




There were two common phrases repeated on this trip:
1. This is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.
2. We should be very proud of ourselves.

And we were proud of ourselves. Really and truly. We had gone off-the-beaten track and survived.

We also learned a valuable lesson: the beaten track is beaten for a reason--and the unbeaten track remains so for another reason, just as viable. You don’t gotta mess this.

Still I’m TOTALLY glad we did it. It was an adventure, and there’s no one else who could’ve gotten me through it like Emily. She’s a real trooper.

The next night we had sushi in Hanoi and slept like babies in a hotel.