My most solid memories of Hue in Central Vietnam are of walking. Walking over bridges while dodging cyclists and wandering alone around the ancient city walls and striding away from touts selling fake entry tickets to the imperial city. The only constant in all these new places is that I’m always alone.
I know I made friends in Hue, I have a single flashback of laughter over terrible meatballs one evening in the hostel, I don’t remember why we didn’t seek out traditional Vietnamese on this night, like I don’t remember plenty of things from Asia.
The thing is, writing about travel from memory is a little like writing fiction. I didn’t keep a journal, so sometimes I fill the gaps with what I think happened, but which actually may have happened in another part of the country. With rose coloured glasses on (as we all do when remembering past travels), I write all my most memorable moments down here, in this blog – a long-delayed but better than never, diary.
In the two years since I moved through Vietnam, I’ve filled my head with travels of South America and New Zealand. At the time, I thought my memories of Vietnam would be with me forever, I was that amazed by the understated spicy food and wild landscapes. But as my memories of Vietnam become hazier, and my life at home takes centre stage, it’s almost as if I never travelled across Asia.
The only proof I have are my photos, and I didn’t take nearly enough.
Pin it to your Asia Travel Board: