Vietnam has a tourist layer- a blend of backpackers & Russians- that flows over the relaxed river that is 'real' Vietnam, in a fast stream of sites, booze and quick scams. When the majority of foreigners (including us) don't stay in the same place for longer than a couple of days, or in the country long enough to come to grips with the mental money conversion, there is no need for good customer service or quality business/consumer relations. This creates quite a clear cut between locals and tourists and is fairly difficult to penetrate. And that's one of the things I love about Vietnam. China, Cambodia, Mongolia, France and America have all tried and failed to conquer Vietnam. (Due to Vietnamese determination, bravery and creative ingenuity). During the horrendous years of American invasion between 1964-1973, the Vietnamese turned every American weapon against them, patiently living in tunnels, owning the night, until, once again, they won.

One of the first things that struck me was how developed it is here. The warning to "carry toilet paper at all times" was quickly disregarded as we realised this is one of the more 'forward' Asian countries. But, unlike the others, Vietnam seems to have little interest in becoming Western, any form of evolution is done for the people who live here. Vietnam remains stubbornly Vietnam, and if you don't like it, don't come!

And so, like so many others, we tried to embrace this proud cuntry, starting in Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon) in the south. We loved Saigon; it's cheerful bustle, the variety of street food and the excessive amounts of mopeds. Crossing the street (or better, a 3-lane roundabout) became a bit of a high rush sport. Although remarkably safe, we'd cross roads just for the hell of it, to feel all powerful as hundreds of mopeds swerved round us, like the parting of the sea.

We celebrated Tet (Vietnamese New Year) on the rooftop bar of our hostel, watching the fireworks over the city, and during the days we went on tours to learn the history or to paddle through the waterways of the Mekong Delta. Interesting, certainly, but there was the unmistakable evidence that we were just on the tourist conveyor belt, going from place to place on the same route as everyone else, seeing other tourists seeing things and being blinded by camera flashes and camera lenses. "Oh yeah, we're in Vietnam!" was said a little too frequently, so Tom and I left Saigon in search of the "real" thing. Nha Trang is the typical party beach town, but it was there that we had some magical moments:

We bypassed yet another (and I'm sure very beautiful) temple, and clawed our way up a hill, through bush, large ant habitations and chilling children's graveyards, to arrive on top of a large rock overlooking the sand, sea and skyscrapers of Nha Trang. A little unknown jewel that left us feeling special and a little smug. On our return, we took a wrong turn amongst the little backstreets and ended up on the side of a road drinking beer, playing guitar and singing with a group of rather drunk Vietnamese. We had experienced a tiny bit of life here and we loved it. Grins plastered on our faces, we enjoyed delicious tastes from streetside mobile glass boxes, Vietnamese musical Bingo, late night ukelele playing on the beach, incredible live music, moped driving and jumping into waterfalls.

We had tried to go to a National Park outside of Bangkok, but pronounced one syllable slightly wrong and ended up in entirely the wrong place on the side of a road. A long walk, including mad dogs, mean monkeys and a few too many snake skins later, we arrived at a train station where no trains stop, so back we went in a cart attached to a friend of someone's friend's uncle's motorbike.

It is these unexpected moments that help you to understand a country and they are moments I struggle to find on the backpacker trail. Sometimes going the way you perceive as wrong is exactly the path you should be on.