Morning coffee at Art Coffee, the lady thinks we're crazy

Every morning in Hoi An we started at Art Coffee Hoi An, ordering iced americanos and watching the street wake up. The owner laughed when we told her we planned to walk to An Bang beach. She said we were crazy, but we were on a mission.

We set off early, the river greets us

We left before the heat climbed, following a tiled sidewalk that ran beside a quiet river. Small boats drifted past, palm trees leaned over the water, and the air smelled of salt and wet earth.

Then the highway appears, and we walk beside traffic

The path turned into a shoulder along a busy highway. Cars and trucks roared past, and a few brave cyclists zipped by. I don't do bikes, and the noise made me glad we were on foot, but it also made me realize this stretch isn't for everyone.

Finally the beach sign, waves, and a well-earned rest

After about two hours we spotted the An Bang beach sign. The ocean rolled in, people lounged under palm trees, and the sand felt cool under our feet. We sat down, ordered fresh coconut water, and laughed about the coffee lady's prediction.

The bus dropped us in a foggy Sapa morning

We came to Sapa after a packaged trip from Hanoi: a Ha Long Bay cruise, then an overnight bus to Sapa city where we stayed one night before the real walk began.

The mamas appeared and we followed them down

Next morning the mamas showed up — village women who walk travelers down to their homestays. They walked fast, but the hills around us didn't rush. The road wound past fern-covered hillsides, disappearing into mist. If you ask me, the pace out here is relaxed. The city is where things are fast.

Five hours of mud, clouds, and a river that roared

The hike took about five hours. We passed through clouds, stepped through mud that sucked at our shoes. The mamas told us about their culture as we walked: each village speaks its own tongue, so neighbors often can't understand each other, and they wear different colored garments to show where they're from.

My husband Anton wore regular sports shoes. I had hiking boots. He spent the whole descent sliding, falling, and catching up covered in mud while I kept finding myself in the front realizing he was far behind and waiting for him to catch up.

Then the clouds lifted. We saw the rice fields stepping down the mountains, a fast river cutting through the valley, animals grazing near the trail. The view was sudden and huge.

The homestay welcomed us with fire, food, and happy water

At the village the homestay owner and his family greeted us with a hot meal, a small campfire, and a jug of what they call happy water — homemade rice wine that does exactly what the name promises. We sat around the fire, full and warm.

We slept on the floor and woke up satisfied

We slept on mattresses on the floor with heated toppers. No luxury, but after the walk and the wine it felt like the best bed in the world.

The taxi driver took my bags, and I didn't touch them again

After three months backpacking in New Zealand, I treated myself to about a week in paradise. My flight landed in Nadi, and from the moment the hostel shuttle driver saw me at the airport exit, I didn't lift or even touch my bags once. Everything was taken care of. I had a hostel to get to.

The water taxi lady wasn't there, so I went to the beach

Check-in at Bamboo Backpackers was smooth. Bunk bed, all good. I was excited for my few nights on a small island starting tomorrow, but first I needed to book the water taxi for the morning. Reception pointed me to a lady at a little booth who handles it. First time I went, she wasn't there. So I went onto the beach, talked to some fellow travellers, enjoyed the view — just the Pacific stretching out, the light soft on the water.

She was there, but 'later' meant later

I went back and found her talking and laughing with a friend. I asked to book the water taxi and she said I should come back later. When? Later. Ok then. I was a little irritated, but the locals had talked about "Fiji time" from the start, so I understood. I went to get some food instead.

The fish that made me forget I don't like coconut

I ordered a white fish poached in coconut milk with some tropical fruits I didn't recognise. I honestly still think about it to this day. Soft, different, like nothing I've ever had. And I don't even like coconut. That was, in fact, one of the best meals I've ever had. I immediately had to share my joy and started offering bits to the strangers around me — one or two travellers at the next table. We had fun, just total strangers I met that night.

A crab, a dog, and a sunset over the Pacific

While we ate, a crab scuttled across the sand and a dog tried to chase it. Then the sunset hit over the Pacific — gold and pink spilling across the water, dreamy and steady, the sound of waves low and constant. I sat there, full and happy, and completely forgot about the water taxi.

She was waiting, I booked, and I finally understood Fiji time

I remembered, rushed back to the lady, and there she was. As if she'd been waiting for me. Maybe she had. I booked the taxi, said thank you, and understood why they say Fiji time is different from regular time. I remembered to relax and accept the now.

If you ask me, New Zealand is the most beautiful country in the world, and Aoraki / Mount Cook is the most beautiful place in it. Snowy peaks and glaciers all around, a river rushing with ice-cold glacier water, swing bridges, and a campsite right at the bottom of it all.

How I ended up sleeping in a $50 tent

If you don’t have a driver’s licence, or just don’t feel like driving on the left, a hop-on hop-off bus is a great way to see New Zealand. You travel with other backpackers, someone else plans the stops, and you get to places that are hard to reach without a car. I travelled with a Stray bus pass that I bought before the trip, which follows a set route around the country.

At Mount Cook the bus stops for two nights so everyone has time to explore, and Stray offers a stay at a hostel in the area. For my budget two nights there was too much, so a friend I met on the bus and I decided to camp the first night and stay at the hostel only for the second. It was a fantastic idea, mainly because the campsite, White Horse Hill Campground, is right at the start of the two trails everyone comes here for.

My tent was bright green, small, cute, and fit me and my backpack perfectly. I had bought it for $50 a week earlier, when I realised I had pretty much no money left for New Zealand, and decided to swap some hostel nights for nights in this tent.

The Hooker Valley Track

From the very first steps the view is huge. Everything around you is green, snowy mountains tower over one side of the valley, and at the end of the valley the peak of Aoraki keeps peeking through the clouds. Below the swing bridges the river is so powerful you can hear it roaring long before you reach it, grey-blue and rushing straight down from the glaciers.

My friend and I walked the Hooker Valley Track together. It’s not a hard walk at all. It’s almost flat, about 10 km there and back, and the path is very straightforward.

There aren’t many places to rest along the way. I remember one stone picnic bench that a few strangers ended up sharing. The walk ends at Hooker Lake, a pale grey lake with broken-off chunks of glacier floating in it. This is the spot: lay out a blanket, eat your packed lunch, stare at the mountain for a while, and then walk back the same way.

We had light rain a few times while we walked, so bring a foldable rain jacket. The weather in New Zealand changes fast. It can be sunny in the morning, raining at noon and sunny again before dark.

My friend also did the second trail, Sealy Tarns, the one people call the Stairway to Heaven. Me? I’m lazy, and I had a hostel to get to.

Then night came, and so did the rain

Back at the campsite, my cute green tent turned out to have one small problem: it wasn’t waterproof. And of course, that night it rained non-stop. (Learn from me and get a tent that actually keeps the rain out.)

Luckily, I had borrowed my brother’s top-quality sleeping bag, which was, in fact, waterproof. I took all my tech stuff inside with me, zipped it almost all the way up with a small gap for air, and spent the night spooning my camera and chargers. Meanwhile my notebook and the book I was reading soaked up every drop that came through the tent’s stitches.

About that kitchen: it’s not really a kitchen. It’s a covered space where people set up their own camping stoves. I didn’t have one, and I honestly don’t remember what we ate, but we went to sleep full.

The morning after

All of it was worth it for what we saw first thing in the morning: a double rainbow over the campsite, right against the mountain.

Those are the moments I will never forget. Would I camp there again? In a heartbeat, but with a better tent this time.