Vietnam With My Sole Sisters - Tara Romoff

Tara Romoff is an avid Rambler and world explorer. She was born in England, lived in Portugal as a young child, and then moved to Toronto, Canada, where she lived during her school years. After marrying her high-school sweetheart, she relocated to Chicago, USA, and raised her two kids. 

Some trips show you new places. And then some trips quietly rearrange how you see the world — and yourself. Our Sole Sister Ramblers journey through Vietnam with Intrepid Travel did both.

From the moment we gathered in Hanoi for our welcome dinner, it was clear this would not be a tick-the-box kind of trip. It would be a laughter-filled, story-rich, deeply human adventure — one where curiosity mattered as much as comfort, and connection mattered more than schedules.

 

A Country That Teaches You How to Laugh at Yourself

Our first evening set the tone perfectly.

We began learning Vietnamese words and immediately discovered that different pronunciations could mean wildly different things (Pho for instance can mean soup, street and prostitute depending how you say it) — cue much giggling and dramatic hand gestures as we tried (and failed) to sound even vaguely convincing.

Our guide, Tuyet — utterly warm, endlessly patient, and gifted with a sweet laugh — shared a story about older travelers once declining help finding a pho restaurant, only to walk in circles following street signs that said pho, not realizing it simply meant street.

They thought they were getting closer to dinner. They were, in fact, just getting dizzy.

That story would come back to us many times over the next two weeks — usually when we were lost, tired, or laughing too hard to care.

Tuyet quickly became the heart of our journey: deeply thoughtful, incredibly accommodating, and delightfully fond of calling us “lady, lady” whenever she needed our attention.

Hanoi: Steps, Stories & Sisterhood

Hanoi greeted us with motion and energy — and steps. So many steps. One traveler gleefully clocked over 18,000 in a single day, circling Hoan Kiem Lake, wandering Train Street, and weaving through the Old Quarter’s beautiful chaos.

Our hotel quickly became more than a place to sleep. The rooftop became a gathering place for conversations that drifted easily from light to meaningful. Stories of children and grandchildren mixed with reflections on work, retirement, identity, and what might come next. Almost none of us had been to Vietnam before (and some of us had not left their home country before), but already we felt like we were exactly where we were meant to be.

History Through Tuyet’s Eyes

Some of the most powerful moments of the trip happened quietly — on buses, between destinations, while looking out at rice fields, rivers, or crowded city streets.

Tuyet shared Vietnam’s history not as a lecture, but as lived memory passed down through families and communities. She spoke about the wars with care and balance, always encouraging us to listen without rushing to judgment — to simply witness and try to understand what life had required of people here.

She told stories of the Ho Chi Minh Trail — not just as a military route, but as a lifeline built and protected by ordinary people. We learned how soldiers moved silently through dense jungle, how footprints were swept away behind them, and how cassava was planted along the route so that future troops would have food waiting.

What stayed with many of us most deeply was learning about the role of women.

Women became farmers, transporters, builders, and protectors. They carried staggering weights — weapons, food, supplies — sometimes while raising children or caring for elders at home. The resilience required was almost impossible to imagine.

There was no romanticizing. No glorifying.

Just a quiet acknowledgment of survival.

Later, at the War Remnants Museum, many of us moved through the exhibits slowly. Some spoke very little. There was a shared sense of humility — and a deeper understanding that history is rarely simple, and almost never belongs to just one story.

Tuyet never told us what to think. She simply helped us see.

Where Travel Meets Meaning

What made this journey so special wasn’t just where we went — but why we went there.

Our visit to the Blue Dragon Children’s Foundation, an organization supporting victims of human trafficking, deeply moved the group. Later, we visited Vun Art, a social enterprise and Intrepid partner, where disabled artisans transform scrap silk into breathtaking works — and we left with art pieces that felt more like stories than souvenirs.

A visit to the Vietnamese Women’s Museum added another layer, helping us understand the long arc of Vietnamese women’s lives — past and present — in ways that felt deeply aligned with the spirit of Sole Sister Ramblers.

Rooftop Reflections & Red Wine Revelations

One evening, while some explored Hanoi’s food scene, others gathered on the rooftop for what became one of the most memorable conversations of the trip.

We talked about aging. About retirement. About self-worth and how women are taught to measure it. About what happens when life forces you to re-evaluate everything you thought defined you.

One Sole Sister shared how surviving a brain aneurysm had completely reshaped how she sees her life and future. The table fell into that rare, respectful quiet that only happens when truth is spoken out loud.

And then, because balance is everything, we discovered our red wine pours were smaller than the white wine pours. Measurements were taken. Evidence presented. Justice demanded.

We laughed ourselves silly.

Halong Bay & The Night Train

Halong Bay unfolded in dramatic limestone shapes and soft, quiet water. Row boats carried us through caves into hidden bays that felt untouched by time. We swam, woke early, hoping for sunrise, and practiced Tai Chi when Tuyet stepped in to lead us herself after our scheduled class leader failed to show up.

Then came the train — unexpectedly magical. An experience so many of us were afraid of that became one of the best of the trip.

Clean cabins. Soft duvets. Gentle lighting. And one legendary evening where we all squeezed into one compartment, drinking blood-orange gin with Sprite, sharing snacks, stories, and laughter late into the night — having so much fun it drew curious passengers to our doorway.

We even convinced Tuyet to have a drink with us.

By morning, most of us were tired, slightly fragile, and completely happy.

Hue: Rain, Scooters & Food That Felt Like Memory

Hue greeted us with rain and history and a quiet beauty that settled slowly.

From wandering the Citadel under grey skies to a vegetarian lunch so good it bordered on mystical — jackfruit transformed into something that tasted like comfort and memory — every moment felt layered and intimate.

Then came the scooters.

Before we boarded our scooters — each with its own driver — we each grabbed a key and then found the driver it belonged to, a surprisingly fun and chaotic little ritual.

We were whisked through the city in a light drizzle. Pagodas, incense shops, river cafés, and an emperor’s tomb that felt like walking through time itself.

Another adventure we were all a little nervous about beforehand that turned out to be ones of the best of the trip.

Lanterns, Tailors & Hoi An Evenings

Hoi An didn’t just welcome us — it wrapped itself around us.

If Hanoi felt energetic and layered, Hoi An felt like stepping into a living memory. Lantern light reflected off the river, silk shimmered in shop windows, and the air itself felt slower, softer, almost suspended between past and present.

For many of us, Hoi An became a place where we allowed ourselves to settle into the rhythm of travel rather than moving through it.

Tailor shops quickly became one of our favorite experiences. Fabric was touched, held up to light, draped across shoulders. Women who hadn’t planned to have anything made suddenly found themselves choosing linings, debating sleeve lengths, and laughing at how quickly just looking turned into full fittings for custom made clothing.

We learned how to tell real silk from synthetic — burning a thread and smelling the difference. Real silk smells like burning hair. Not glamorous knowledge, but unforgettable.

Evenings in Hoi An felt cinematic.

Lanterns glowed overhead in colors that felt too rich to be real. Street vendors moved quietly through crowds. Music drifted from restaurants and bars in ways that made you slow your pace without realizing it.

One night, after heavy rain soaked the streets, we lingered over cocktails and dinner while watching the river slowly rise. What could have felt inconvenient instead became strangely beautiful — a reminder that life here moves with water, not against it.

There was something about Hoi An that invited reflection.

Maybe it was the age of the buildings. Maybe it was the softness of the light. Maybe it was simply where we were in the journey — no longer strangers, not yet ready to say goodbye.

Conversations here felt deeper, slower, more personal. We talked about creativity, aging, reinvention, and the freedom of not having everything figured out.

Hoi An didn’t demand anything from us. It simply allowed us to be present — together.

Saigon & The Mekong Delta

Ho Chi Minh City challenged us emotionally and energized us culturally. The War Remnants Museum left many of us quiet and reflective. Later, rooftop bars, music, dancing, and shared colds softened the intensity.

The Mekong Delta offered a gentler rhythm. Boat rides through narrow canals. Life unfolds slowly along riverbanks. Long meals at open-air tables. Evenings under mosquito nets with fans humming softly.

More than once, someone said it felt like we had been away for weeks. At the same time, it felt like it had all flown by. Both were true.

The Power of Goodbye

Our final dinner in Saigon was joyful and emotional in equal measure.

Thank-yous were spoken. Gifts were exchanged. When Tuyet returned wearing the earrings we had given her, there wasn’t a dry eye at the table.

The next morning brought final coffees, last shopping trips, and goodbye hugs that lasted just a little longer than expected.

Invitations were exchanged across continents. Promises were made. And future Sole Sister adventures were already being discussed.

Final Thoughts

Vietnam gave us color, complexity, beauty, and perspective. But it was the Sole Sister Ramblers who gave the journey its soul.

As one woman said near the end of the trip, “It feels like we’ve been away for six months… but also like it's just begun.”

And maybe that’s what the best travel does. It stays with you long after the suitcase is unpacked. It changes how you see the world. And it reminds you that sometimes the most important part of any journey… is who you share it with.