Vietnam’s Ha Giang Loop: is this dangerous route worth the journey?

WOMEN MEETS WORLD

A brutally honest review of Vietnam’s best-known excursion

Written March 2026 – updated April 2026*

UPDATED – The text below was written in March 2026 about my experience in March 2025. Whilst I have not changed the article, I have expanded some points with footnotes and further info at the bottom. This is in response to questions I have received after the death of a Welsh teenager on the loop this April.

It was a quiet day in March 2025 when I found myself in Hanoi, panic-buying warm clothes in anticipation for the Ha Giang loop. This is a stunning motorcycle pilgrimage into the northernmost mountains of Vietnam, known for its forested limestone and granite mountains, and unique Dong Van Karst Plateau.

It had been much lauded by backpackers throughout my three weeks in Vietnam, building a sense of anticipation that I had learned not to trust too much. It could be my age – could be jealousy – but I do not trust TikTokers that never have a bad word to say about anything.

You’ll be jaded soon enough, bitches.*1

Curiosity bites though, and I booked an organised tour with an easy rider (a hired driver). After two months of working and travelling in Asia, my capacity for careful planning had reached its maximum, and not bothering to analyse my options in detail, I opted for Bong Hostel. As someone who likes their peace protected, I sensed this could bite me in the bum..and it sort of did.

I rocked up in the evening with my loot of newly purchased thermals (essential even in March), hustled for a few quid, and caught the six-hour bus to Ha Giang.

As we pulled out, a German lad next to me threw a loud and prolonged tantrum to his pals (and in fact all of us) about the lack of USB ports on the bus. Whilst he wept over his dead phone, I smugly thanked my stars for my power bank and increasingly well-developed foresight.

There was a quick overnight stop and early breakfast before we split into groups of ten. We were then introduced to our drivers and escorted promptly into the mountains on the bikes.

This is when my heart sank a little. Noticing a sea of matching T-shirts ahead of me, I recognised that I’d been put in a group with eight or nine people who already knew each other from another travel stop.

Scenes from the Ha Giang Loop, Vietnam

They were a nice bunch, but situations like this make for an inevitably more challenging time, especially if your social battery is low (or if you struggle with English). It’s just more effort. That’s one of the challenges with going on a trip with a bigger hostel, but it’s also something you just have to get used to with trips like this, I’ve learned.

As we climbed the mountain, I revelled in the bliss of being able to enjoy the wonderful scenery on the back of a bike, driven by someone that knows the route inside out. With steep, winding roads, the loop is dangerous to ride, and hiring your own bike is not generally advised (although Bong does offer the chance to drive alone, with guides in tow)2.

There is a sweet serenity to popping in your headphones and soaking up the natural world with the feel of the wind in your ha- OH wait. We’re stopping already, are we? Hold on, just let me take my helmet off (again). Staggers off bike.

Thus began our routine. For the next four days, every thirty minutes or so, we would stop at a café for a lollypop, photo, and a game of Đá cầu (“foot badminton”), Vietnam’s national sport.

A couple of times a day, the pitstops were welcomed. Đá cầu was a lot of fun. But after a while, the routine started to grate on me. Am I the only one? “No, we agree,” said the girls in my group. “Way too much stopping. Let’s just keep going!” I’m all for a viewpoint, particularly on a trip like this, but the continuous stopping was giving me whiplash.

There are a ton of other groups on the loop, so it could be to do with traffic control3, but it felt a little forced. Obviously they want you to buy something at every stop, too. It’s economics.

Some of the cafés were really sweet, and enjoying a tea or coffee over a terrific view is truly special. I reckon doing the loop yourself and taking your time with it would be perfect, if you’re confident. Other establishments were a little more interesting – think karaoke on a cliff edge at 10am type stuff. That’s the deal in Vietnam though. They live loudly, even in the mountains!

Every evening, we would pull up at a hostel and settle in for dinner. The hostels we stayed at were very clean and comfortable, and we were extremely well fed, I must say.

However, before each meal, our drivers sat behind our chairs and forced us to repeat the Vietnamese drinking chant whilst knocking back shots of rice wine4. This was novel the first night – less so by night two – and by night three, I was ready to smash the shot glass and swallow the pieces.

By some twist of fate, it seems, my driver and I were spiritually aligned because he seemed as awkward and uncomfortable as me about the whole thing. “Are you an Aquarius?” I said on Google Translate. “Yes!” he said. As a rather awkward Aquarius rising myself, the immediate kinship was a comfort, especially when I saw him sneaking off to bed to avoid the singing.

On our last day, we stopped by a lake and went for a swim in the cave. That was a lot of fun and a nice way to end the experience. Apparently this is only available if you book the four day excursion. Everyone online suggested that I book the longer tour, so I did – but to be honest, you’ll get to see as much as you need to from the shorter trip, I reckon.

I’m a grumpy bugger at times, and had been backpacking for a while at this point, so don’t let my review put you off doing the Ha Giang Loop. I still had fun, and the scenery is wonderful – that cannot be overstated. It’s also very affordable, costing around £150, so not pricey at all for what you get to experience.

I am also a realist though, so do want to be honest about the fact that this trip won’t be for everyone. If I had my time again, I would travel with a smaller, quieter group5. Due to the young age range with Bong, there was way too much forced partying, and they couldn’t seem to read the room that we didn’t want that experience every night, given the 7am starts. On the other hand, I felt very safe, everything was prompt, the drivers were nice and it was very well organised.

My top tips for making the most of it as a solo traveller are:

• Check in with yourself before booking. What size group would you rather go with? You’ll likely bond more in a smaller group, but everyone’s different.

• Dress warm. This is so important. Check the weather, message people already there, ask on Reddit or Hostelworld. Find out what the temperature is like just before hand.

• Bring cash. For tips and snacks.

• Bring earplugs (I opt for Loops) to drown out the karaoke if you need an early night.

UPDATED April 2026* – Expanding on the above, given some questions I’ve had from people following the death of a British teenager in April this year.

I have not edited the blog post above, because it was my authentic experience. But following the death of a British teenager in April this year, I wanted to elaborate on some points of consideration for those of you considering the loop. I am not a journalist, so can only speak from my experience and opinion.

  1. HYPE – my point about travel Tiktokers in the first paragraph still stands. Please remember that they are not journalists, or critical thinkers. Most are just looking for clout. That doesn’t mean they’re lying, of course, but my advice before booking any travel experience – especially a dangerous one – would be to use a variety of travel sources, including reviews, blogs, news articles, and books. If you don’t think you will be able to relax and enjoy it, just don’t go. ↩︎
  2. SAFETY – Hundreds of people ride the loop every day, and the majority of them are fine. But there ARE accidents and deaths. I had a friend of a friend who died on the loop a few years back, which I was aware of before booking. I am not going to pretend to be a reporter, but this problem is clearly coming to light now in the press. I would encourage anyone reading to take notice of the stats if they can find them, and make a judgement call based on their research ↩︎
  3. TRAFFIC – There’s a LOT of people on the loop. I personally did not feel that this was a massive issue on my trip, but it was clearly something that the local groups tried to manage (and, I believe, a reason for the continuous stopping). I imagine it’s only getting busier as social media pushes people to visit this part of the world. All those videos of girls with long hair throwing their arms up on the back of a bike? Picture hundreds of them at once, crowding the same roads and bends. ↩︎
  4. ALCOHOL – As I said above – Bong (like many hostels) encouraged drinking in the evenings, which really bothered me. I had a really nice, sensible driver, but this cannot be said for all of them. It speaks to a party culture that just doesn’t feel appropriate on a dangerous journey. I had the sense that the Vietnamese think that this is what people want, so they push it hard. You just have to trust that the drivers know their limits, and that is scary. It’s also not just the easy riders you need to think about – consider that other drivers on the loop (fellow travellers) might have been drinking too, and may or may not be ready to go the next day. ↩︎
  5. VIBES – If any part of what I have said is a concern for you, my advice would be to find a smaller group aimed at an older age group (no matter your age). There is no shame in it. ↩︎

Similar Posts

  • Dodging lizards in Bangkok – My first 24 hours as a nomad in Asia

    Having swapped life in London to work remotely abroad, what did the Thai capital have in store for me?

    At the end of 2024, I quit my corporate job in London after eight years in the capital, and started life as a digital nomad in Asia.

    It was thus that I found myself, two flights and 15 hours later, at Suvarnabhumi airport, Bangkok – freshly spray tanned, and braced for change.

    After having successfully withdrawn baht, updated my family, filled my water bottle and downloaded my e-sim, I had a full two to three days to explore the city before moving North to the town Chiang Mai, a well known nomad hot spot.

    I was staying in Asoke, right in the centre of the bustling mecca of Bangkok. It’s seriously busy – think wide streets laden with traffic – but a good location from which to see the main sights.

    I got lost a few times, but for once there was no tube to catch, no meeting or engagement to get to. Nor was I a backpacker on a shoestring budget or timeline. Why am I rushing to my hotel? I thought with a thrill. I have time to figure it out.

    As I traipsed through the streets with my rucsack, the heat started to wear a little, however. I was grateful that I’d limited myself to hand luggage only, packing just a few clothes and my refurbished MacBook Air – about the tiniest laptop ever made.

    When I arrived at the lovely Samala hotel – which was later damaged in an earthquake – I cooled off with a little visit to the pool, a Singha (Thai Beer), and after a short nap, contemplated what to do next.

    Snacks at Ruam Sab market

    First up, food of course. The benefit of being in the business district of Bangkok is that you’re never far from a decent market.

    I’d spotted Ruam Sab market on my way to the hotel, so journeyed back with my pockets jangling.

    Having done a bit of prep for my time abroad (thank you RetiredWorking4U), I knew this food court was where the local office workers came for lunch. As such, it was best to arrive early – especially as I wanted to look about and soak it all in.

    Vegetarians – look out for the yellow Je flag!

    Whilst I was seriously tempted by the deep fried bananas, I eventually settled for some Morning Glory (water spinach) with rice, and some kind of broth, lathered with a mix of chillies, soy and fish sauce, which is typical all over Thailand.

    Meat is eaten in the country, but veggie stalls sometimes have a yellow Je flag, which was a big help, as I don’t eat meat that often.

    Stomach full, I was ready to get out and explore.

    Touring Thonburi

    Nothing beats a tour for getting your bearings, and I’d already found a business online called Hidden Bangkok Tours led by a local chap born in the area.

    He runs boat trips in Thonburi, the quieter, more traditional part of Bangkok on the western side of the Chao Phraya River – the “city behind the Pagoda”, he said in one YouTube video.

    There’s no doubt social media can kill your brain, but one of the lovely takeaways is finding unusual activities you might not typically consider, like this one.

    Desperate to see some lizards, off I popped to Thonburi. As we journeyed through the khlong (canal) in our brightly coloured tail boat – right in the shadow of the giant golden Buddha, in fact – we had what I felt to me like a more authentic insight into the city.

    Before I arrived in Bangkok, all I could picture in my head was roads, wires, and hotels – which is accurate – but I was surprised to learn that it’s also lined with waterways. In fact, it’s at huge risk of climate change due to rising sea levels from the low-lying Chao Phraya delta.

    Until the late 19th century, the rivers served as the primary means of transportation for people and goods, earning it the nickname of “the Venice of the East”. Venice – in Thailand! Every day’s a school day.

    Our guide explained how the old wooden houses lining the canal were what most local Thais lived in, with many families still working directly on the river (although some were now Airbnbs).

    We met a couple of them, including a lady who’d sold fish on the river her whole life and, if I remember correctly, had funded her children’s university education with her earnings. I’m not sure how true this is, but either way, it’s a cool story.

    Shots from Thonburi, a riverside community located on the western banks of the Chao Phraya River

    Being over a century old, many of the properties – which were built on stilts – were beginning to fall into the river. Rebuilding requires official permission, which makes it difficult for residents to maintain them, although I didn’t get to the bottom of why such permission was difficult to secure, sadly.

    We then stopped for coffee at an adorable, centuries old wooden house called Baan Silapin, the “Artists’ Village”. It appeared that this was where the young Thai’s hung out, and I spotted a couple on a date feeding catfish by the water – as you do.

    All the colours at Baan Silapin “Artists’ Village”

    Others – a mix of locals and tourists – were painting in the cafes, observing the local art, picking up trinkets, and generally slowing down. It wasn’t overcrowded, and felt a bit hipster – like a slower, hotter, Hackney Wick. Without the beanies (thankfully).

    After the intensity of Asoke, this was a refreshing change of pace – a chance to see a side of Bangkok that I suspect often gets missed.

    Do make time for a visit here if you need to unwind from the city.

    There’s no need to get a tour, but it certainly adds context and colour. Importantly, I learned how to say Bangkok in Thai – possibly the longest word ever said – check it out:

    Trying my first Khao Soi

    After my cultural baptism, what else, but more food? Bloggers advised I try Pad Krapao or Khao Soi, a noodle soup in a curry broth, topped with crispy fried noodles. I was keen to work out if I could find vegetarian versions, so later caught the bus down to the thriving Vadhana District in central Bangkok.

    Having been kindly directed to the right stop by a group of local ladies who’d teamed up to ensure I didn’t get lost, I found – by chance – a little place called Zong Peep, serving tofu Khao Soi. I promptly tucked into a huge bowl and a coke for the price of about £3. It was a delicious mix of salt and spice.

    Khao Soi is one of the best loved dishes in Thailand

    Belly full once again, I was pretty shattered and ready to hit the sheets. Do you know the way to Samala? I asked a security guard at a nearby hotel. My mate will take you, he said, shouting over to a guy on a moped.

    Better not add this to my stories, I thought, knowing my Mum was watching. But no time to dwell. I pulled the helmet on and off we went, slithering down Sukhumvit in a game of real-life Mario Kart.

    Back at the hotel I dived under the covers and set my alarm for an early start. Contrary to my parents’ expectations, I hadn’t been killed, kidnapped or poisoned – so all in all, a great first day.

    My first moped ride of the trip

  • I swapped London for nomad life in Asia. Was it worth it?

    In early 2025, I left London and headed to Southeast Asia to see what life was really like as a digital nomad. One year on, was it worth it?

    FEBRUARY 24, 2026 WOMEN MEETS WORLD

    I recently read a BBC interview with Julie Williams, an IT consultant from Birkdale on Merseyside. She had decided to make a ball pit in her spare room, rather than rent it. Why? For fun. ‘You can never be sad in a ball pit.’

    Stories like this are important because they remind you of your free will. Julie’s is especially unique because the ball pit came at the expense of financial gain.

    For most people, that’s just not the default position – whether they need the cash or not.

    I found myself thinking a lot about free will when I turned 30. I’ve never really clung to traditional milestones (house, baby, marriage, divorce), and count climbing out of credit card debt as the maturest moment in my adult life to date.

    But the flood of birthday invites from friends – right before the hen dos – gave me pause to reflect. Was I happy? Had I challenged myself enough? Was I excited about the next decade?

    Who am I?

    Not to get too Lewis Carroll about it, but this last question was the catalyst for me in late 2024. In a way, I felt that I didn’t know myself anymore, or at least not all the versions of myself – just the city-shaped, university-fied version. And she was restless.

    Meanwhile, semi-remote work in London had become my new normal. The days of spilling out to the pub every week with colleagues had gone. I had a lovely team in my PR job, but rotating schedules meant it took too long to get past the pleasantries.

    People generally – and I include myself in this – seem to have become more protective of their time since I moved to London in 2017 (and perhaps all over the country).

    I don’t think this is a bad thing. Hell, if you’re going to replace me with AI, at least give me another 30 minutes in bed / to read to my kids / paint / write / support a charity / or stare into the abyss.

    Having one foot in, one foot out, however, began to wear on me amidst the rising cost of living in the capital. I still considered myself a creative and curious person, but did I really want my days to be defined by the price of flat whites and whether a Soho House membership was cost effective?

    I take comfort from water cooler culture as much as everyone else, so I’m not bashing these things – they’re part of the fun.

    But when I found myself googling ‘Martin Lewis wife’, something had to give.

    Was it burnout? I’m not sure. But in need of a change of scene and some inspiration, I decided to give this digital nomad lark a go, beginning with three months in South East Asia in early 2025.

    Who knew what would happen after that. But I’d work less, and live more, often with strangers – which would at least break me out of my comfort zone.

    I’m not alone in seeing the attraction of nomadism, especially if your job allows it. According to a report by CV builder website LiveCareer UK, an estimated 165,000 UK professionals have relocated abroad to work remotely in recent years, seduced by better weather and (they hope) greater work-life balance.

    Some roam around, as I did, making the most of the opportunity to see the world. Others seek stability in well-established hotspots that offer structured visa policies, tax incentives and ready-made communities.

    To cut a long story short, I didn’t end up moving permanently abroad. But I did see a lot of cool things, regain a sense of direction, and create a stable freelance set up that now allows me to travel whenever and wherever I want, whilst keeping roots in the UK (which is how I like it).

    Giving up a normal routine has not been without its challenges – anyone that’s become a nomad, travelled alone, or even that’s relocated will agree with that, I’m sure. But between the relentlessly positive portrayals of nomadism on social media and the often sceptical narratives found in the UK press, there is a lot of middle ground.

    As a thirty-something experiencing this lifestyle for the first time, I hope this blog provides a balanced account of what it’s really like as work and life become increasingly flexible and multihyphenated.

    Happy reading.

    Chiang Mai, Thailand (February 2025)

    Blue Mountains, Sydney, Australia (April 2025)

    Porto, Portugal (September 2025)

    Moffat, Scotland (December 2025)

  • What impact are nomad communities having in places like Chiang Mai?

    After my week of work in Chiang Mai, I wonder – is a Bali-esque boom and bust on the horizon?

    It’s no secret that Thailand is popular with digital nomads. Interest in the Destination Thailand Visa (DTV) underscores this appeal – offering a five-year, multiple-entry visa, it surpassed 35,000 applicants when it launched last year (2025). Aimed at remote workers and location-independent professionals, the DTV offers an affordable and flexible long-term stay, making it a central pillar of Thailand’s strategy to boost tourism and strengthen its economy.

    With great prices, food, weather, and landscape, Thailand does appear to have it all. But having worked from several international “nomad” hotspots in the last year, I have found myself becoming less interested in what I can get out of the places I visit, and more concerned with the impact I’m having there.

    Definitions of digital nomads have changed, after all. The 2010 “stereotype” was that of a “joyful millennial working from a laptop on a beach” (Hart, 2015; Spinks, 2015). A handful of people were doing it, many of whom were bloggers, making it pretty harmless.

    Now, an era of flexible working, long-term visas, and steep rents in places like Sydney and London mean people are choosing to work remotely abroad for the long haul, (coined as “slowmadism”).

    Western incomes stretch further abroad, and that money benefits local economies. But academics worry there could be broader ramifications for destinations in the Global South already experiencing forms of transnational gentrification, as a result of remote workers.

    Chiang Mai’s appeal might also be its downfall

    Chiang Mai, a city in the northern mountains of Thailand, has attracted thousands of digital nomads in recent years. The effects of this migration are already being felt, with this case study suggesting the long-term nomad presence is reshaping neighbourhoods, increasing demand for foreign-facing businesses, and driving up rents – factors which affect both visitors and locals.

    I observed some of this myself when I visited in February 2025. There’s still a ton of local food spots, of course, but it seemed that many of the cafés, services, juice bars, and co-working spaces had been created for foreigners (or those with laptops).

    My lovely host in Chiang Mai

    Fon, a restaurant owner, confirmed that even local food stops have “increased their prices by 5–10 Baht” since the 2020 pandemic. Whilst the minimum wage has increased slightly too, it is unclear whether it’s enough, or what the future repercussions could be over time.

    What about integration? Of the nomads I met in Chiang Mai, some worked in tourism or as teachers, and others were learning Thai. Billy, an American who moved to Chiang Mai two years ago, loves his life here as a teacher. He said that despite the number of expats from Myanmar, China, and Western countries, local people still strongly embrace their mai pen rai – a “no worries” attitude – and hold tightly to their Lanna cultural identity. On the trips he’s been on, there’s just as many Thai locals as there are nomads and expats, he says.

    Whilst that is reassuring, having spoken to a lot of nomads working from businesses based outside Thailand, most treated the city as a satellite office, and were there to enjoy the comfort and low costs rather than integrate into the fabric of the place. I can’t help but wonder how sustainable that is – especially given that most nomads leave in the early part of each year during “burning season” – which must affect rental competition, business, and the vibe.

    Meals cost £1-3

    Based on my chats with people there, part of Chiang Mai’s appeal – compared to say, the Thai islands – is that it feels more “authentic,” or at least less mediated by mass tourism. Fon is from Prachinburi, and moved here five years ago. “People from here have a strong sense of culture, pride, and local traditions,” she said. This is in part due to the highly esteemed university and active student culture.

    Evening chants at Doi Suthep are popular

    As more people move here to work, however – which is likely, in the wake of this visa – I suspect local businesses and authorities will keep shaping things to meet foreign interests, expectations and spending habits.

    After all, nomads are not tourists in the traditional sense. They need a more fixed base, comfort, friends, places to live, reliable internet access, and familiar home comforts. I went for dinner with people from a newly launched co-living residence, for example – something that’s becoming more common, and speaks to the desire for permanence.

    Another challenge that comes with growing numbers of long-term visitors, is waste management. Chiang Mai already feels stretched in terms of infrastructure, and more people inevitably means more rubbish. Bali, for example, is grappling with a well-documented waste crisis, and while I wasn’t able to investigate in depth here, this blog provides some interesting context about recycling and waste handling in Thailand.

    I tried hard to minimise my footprint by carrying a Grayl water filter bottle and a foldable dog bowl for takeaway food, but the broader issue is harder to tackle. How the city will cope with more residents and their impact on waste, water, and energy systems remains to be seen. “Waste and water management have not kept up with growth,” said Fon.

    Is it overcrowded already?

    In terms of capacity – like I said, it already feels quite busy, and judging by comments on Reddit forums from long-term nomads, that seems to be the case. I found myself standing at traffic lights for around ten minutes in Nimman, trying to cross the road, for instance.

    All the Grab drivers wore masks to protect themselves from the terrible air quality, which will surely worsen as traffic increases. Electricity wires hung about precariously, which had me wondering how much additional strain the desire for faster internet was putting on infrastructure.

    According to Fon, my observations were valid. “The cost of utilities has risen dramatically,” she said. “The condition of the roads is abysmal, and there’s no real public transportation despite the demand. There are more vehicles on the roads each year as a result.”

    A lot Chiang Mai is undeniably charming, and you can tell why people like it here. The Old Town is beautiful, a square of ancient walls, temples, lanterns, and slow, warm evenings. I really enjoyed my first few days staying just south of it, near Wua Lai Walking Street Market, a quieter part of town that still felt full of character.

    There are some beautiful hikes nearby, and lots of stunning wats to explore – I even spent one day speaking to monks when I visited (you can read my blog about this here).

    Overall though, I seemed to leave Chiang Mai with more questions than answers. It will be interesting to see how it changes over the next decade, and how the Thai government will manage the steady influx of people (or indeed, decline, if that happens). Is another Bali boom and bust on the horizon?

    Dinner with a gang of travellers I befriended

    Exploring the local temples

  • My Singapore stopover – is there more to this city than meets the eye?

    Finding biophilic joy in the Asia’s financial capital.

    I arrived in Singapore at the end of a three-month trip from the UK to Asia. By then, my interest in forward planning was at rock bottom, but my confidence in my own tastes and intuition was sky-high.

    Singapore is a small island sitting just south of Malaysia, and one of the world’s most densely populated countries. It’s been independent since the 60s and, with historic links to British colonial rule via the British East India Company, is now a global financial hub.

    It’s also become known as a bit of a stopover city. Typically, you’re flying in or out for a meeting, or in order to get somewhere else – which usually means you’re tired, jet-lagged, and possibly dragging a big suitcase behind you.

    Sights from the Singapore Skyline

    Luckily, it’s teeny-weeny. At around twice the size of the Isle of Wight – and roughly 2.5 times smaller than Greater London – you can enjoy what it has to offer within 24–48 hours, if you’re realistic about what’s achievable (spoiler – it’s not just skyscrapers!).

    Depending on the length of your layover, bear in mind that the airport is around 30–45 minutes from the city (longer at peak times). I took a taxi, which cost around £20, or $32 Singapore dollars.

    Here’s how I spent a perfect two days.

    First of all – sleep. I flew in from Sydney, so it was a relatively short flight, arriving late at night. I decided to stay in an area called Kampong Glam, Singapore’s historic Malay–Muslim quarter (more on this shortly).

    After a good night’s sleep, I spotted a sign for kaya toast. This is a traditional breakfast in the country, so I decided to check it out.

    Kaya toast – a traditional Singaporean breakfast – is usually set alongside runny, soft-boiled eggs and local coffee (kopi)

    It looks and tastes a bit like a peanut butter sandwich, but the filling is actually a sweet coconut–pandan jam (kaya). It’s served with soft-boiled eggs, soy sauce and pepper, alongside a strong coffee (kopi).

    I didn’t really know what I was doing, but a kindly stranger advised that you’re meant to dip the toast into the egg and sort of lap it up.

    I enjoyed it – but if you’re after something more Western (which might be the case after a long trip away), there are plenty of cafés offering cooked breakfasts too. It’s a cosmopolitan city, at the end of the day.

    Next, spend some time exploring the old town – Kampong Glam in particular. Even before you’ve done any Googling, you can tell this is the ‘cool bit’.

    Sights from Kampong Glam, Singapore’s Muslim Quarter – now a vibrant shopping and eating area

    Unlike the modern high-rises typical of the Singaporean skyline, this small cluster of streets is made up of shorter, squatter buildings packed closely together, many adorned with colourful street art.

    Walking around in the daytime, it was full of a mix of older and more modern cafés (including places like % Arabica, one of my favourites in Hackney), lots of cute shops, and the beautiful Sultan Mosque – the largest in Singapore.

    Kampong Glam is made for Instagram, so if you’re a talented photographer (unlike me), you’ll want to kill some time here like I did exploring the artwork, buying trinkets and hopping between cafés and ice-cream shops.

    By this point, it’ll be pretty hot.

    So, after seeking shade in a market, I took the train into the centre, heading towards the Singapore Botanic Gardens. The gardens provide welcome relief from the chaos and closeness of the surrounding streets and buildings and – fun fact – are the first and only tropical botanic garden on UNESCO’s World Heritage List. No idea why that is, but it’s blooming nice.

    I passed a peaceful couple of hours here watching otters and lizards, and stopping for lunch at the café, before the heat finally overwhelmed me.

    Towards evening, I swung by Marina Bay Sands for a hot chocolate and a seat by the water to watch the evening light and water show, Spectra. It runs at 8pm and 9pm (with later shows on weekends). It’s genuinely impressive, and worth sitting down to watch before wandering along the marina.

    If there’s time, you can also head next door to Gardens by the Bay for the Garden Rhapsody show at the Supertree Grove. If you’ve ever seen photos of Singapore, chances are you’ll have seen images of these huge illuminated tree-like structures. I’m a dummy and missed it, but I hear it’s fantastic.

    Singapore is known for its iconic hotels, including Marina Bay Sands

    After the light shows, I advocate for taking a nice walk along the bay, soaking up the buzz of the city, or grabbing a drink nearby.

    Finally – don’t forget the airport!

    It’s a spectacle in itself. I had a midday flight the next day, so I arrived a couple of hours earlier than strictly necessary. You can head to Jewel Changi Airport, a kind of ‘lifestyle hub’ that feels more like a futuristic indoor jungle than an airport. At its centre is the Rain Vortex – the world’s tallest indoor waterfall – surrounded by layered greenery and walkways. If you’re going to make an airport, make it pretty right?

    Whether or leaving or entering Asia – don’t sleep on Singapore. A day or two in the country is plenty, so if you’re around this way, split your flight, dump your bag and let the city show you what it’s good at.

    Gardens by the Bay, Singapore

  • Serendipity at Sanloem – what a week in the Cambodian islands taught me about gratitude

    “Trust me, it’s paradise.”

    Beach bliss at Koh Rong Samloem

    “Why have I done this?” I thought, looking up at the dirt track ahead of me. Some thirty minutes earlier, I’d left the gleaming white sands of Saracen Bay, on the Cambodian island of Koh Rong Sanloem. Now I was headed to the other side of the island for a digital detox. But I hadn’t expected the inner landscape to be so – well – natural.

    With no internet connection, I was relying on a screenshot of the map to get me through the brush before dusk. Noticing how late it was, I pulled my backpack higher on my shoulders, and ploughed onward.

    Crossing from Saracen Bay to Sunset Beach on the other side

    Bingo. A bit further along, someone had painted ‘Sunset Beach’ on a piece of wood, pointing down to the right. I headed into a copse of trees and started clambering back down toward the coastline. Five minutes later, I arrived at a big bamboo structure. Sunboo Beach Bungalows. “This better be worth it.” I thought.

    Saved by the board

    “Georgina! Welcome!” A voice stopped me in my tracks. It was Paulo, the owner. “I’ve got you a lemonade.” Gasping with gratitude, I gulped down the liquid and thus began an adventure that would leave me reflecting deeply on the power of serendipity.

    “A decade ago, nothing was here.” Paulo told me. Portuguese by birth, he came to Sunset Beach around this time to support a friend launching a hotel business. The result was Sunboo, a mix of tipis and bamboo dorms situated right on the beach (thank you, solar power) complete with a restaurant, kitchen, yoga platform, tiki bar and hammocks.

    Despite feeling luxurious, there’s nothing posey about Sunboo. It has a cosy, rustic feel, led in part by its small team, who have been there since the start. It’s the kind of place where you’ll find yourself chatting to them all by name (and vice versa) and actively spending time with the staff during the week. You’re not just a faceless guest here, which felt very reassuring to me, after six weeks alone.

    Robinson Crusoe eat your heart out

    The bay itself, with its pink, green, blue and yellow hues, is otherworldly. At only 500 metres long, it feels like a safe little cocoon. Every evening, people come together on the beach to watch the sunsets, which are the best on the island (expect different colours depending on the weather).

    Hues of heaven – the view from Sunboo

    Flanked either side of Sunboo, is a handful of other small businesses including a surf and dive shop, some small restaurants, and some other places to stay. Paulo was quick to inform me who they are, and what they do: “we help each other out.” He said.

    For instance, Sunboo doesn’t provide WiFi, but we could get a little bit next door as long as we bought a coffee (fair). Later in the week we found ourselves swapping games with another place down the beach: “ah, Kamaku has it!” They said. If they couldn’t fit you into the dorm another night, they’d see who else has a free room. Everyone worked together as opposed to against each other.

    I was particularly lucky the week I was there. There were only a handful of guests, and they were mostly solo like me.

    One day I was watching the bright white lighting on the beach from a blacked out hut, before seeking refuge at Sunboo’s protective bamboo fortress.

    As the hot, heavy rain hit the sand, Paulo, Nadia and Cori (spearheading yoga) sealed the walls with material shutters, and we settled in for a pizza from Sunboo’s incredible kitchen, and a cosy game of Catan.

    Taking shelter from the storm

    Forming a fast bond after that, we spent eight glorious days doing yoga, playing games, eating fresh fish, snorkelling, kayaking, reading and getting progressively drunk at the Tiki Bar with Hiro.

    Ready for my nightcap

    It was the highlight of my time in South East Asia and it all happened by chance.

    I’d actually made plans to visit the Thai islands instead, but changed my mind after spending a rather depressing day in Phnom Penh seeing the Killing Fields and S21 (essential learning).

    Then it was a choice of Koh Rong or Koh Rong Sanloem. I knew nothing about either of them, but had heard that the latter is smaller, less developed and had just gotten an internet connection a couple of months prior (and that’s only at Saracen Bay.) After a miserable bout of food poisoning in Vang Vieng, Laos, it felt like the right decision.

    Whether it was the setting, timing, or company, our special week was the result of many factors working in quiet harmony. And that analogy speaks to Sunset Beach as well.

    Yes it’s beautiful. But that’s not the only thing that makes it stand out. It’s the history; the mix of Cambodian and international businesses; the relationships that have been formed over years. The people all come with a unique story and personality, adding colour to the place that is their home. And this blend of ingredients cannot be replaced or taken for granted.

    Devastatingly though, it is. Because the businesses here have been asked to pack up and leave within the next four years to make way for developments.

    Whilst they’re hopeful for more time, if the landlord decides to sell the land to investors, the bamboo structure, which the founders of Sunboo lovingly and painstakingly assembled into their home and livelihood, will be dismantled.

    The hammocks will be taken down, the games packed away, and this magical community divided. All to make way for bigger, glossier, pricier hotels.

    We’ve probably all read or watched The Beach by Alex Garland.

    As I looked out at the Gulf of Thailand one day, I thought about how that story captured hearts, and its parallels to Sunset Beach. Despite descending into darkness, the concept of a legendary self-contained community fascinates people. As a result, many tourists went searching for it – ultimately destroying the “real” magic Maya Bay in Thailand, where it was filmed.

    You cannot recreate the lived experience, the serendipity, or connections that make a place alive.

    That’s why the idea of wiping out Sunset Beach in favour of a bunch of soulless hotels feels appalling. Meaningful places, whether for travel or in everyday life, are rarely manufactured. They are nurtured over time, by people, stories, and happenstance – so they need to be appreciated for what they are, in the moment.

    Because I stayed longer than anticipated, on my second to last day, I had to return to Saracen Bay to work. After another thirty minute walk across the island to Sunset Beach, I arrived once again at the uphill dirt track. But I wasn’t frustrated this time. I was energised. Because I knew, on the other side I’d be met with a cold lemonade and a slice of paradise.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *