The language barrier hurted my head hard. I phoned Mr. Hung (rental agency) in Hanoi for backup and passed the phone for translation. Yep, we needed a guide—a fail-safe in case we became sick or injured. Fair enough. My cynical nature led me to believe this was a convenient way to drum up tourist business, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. We retreated to discuss options. What choice did we have? None. We returned to immigration and five minutes later a Mr. Hai presented himself. We followed him to his office and made it official. The staff there was friendlier but not overwhelmingly so. While waiting for our permits we had breakfast in the small restaurant in the back. More Vietnamese tar and meat (described as veal) that was mostly fat and skin. Yumsters…

Read More