Vietnam on wheels
Hello,
I am back from Vietnam and recovered from the jetlag, which means I am back here, too!
It was a great trip. Highlights include: a cruise round Halong Bay (featuring four men carrying me - in my wheelchair - onto the boat), a food tour of Hanoi in which I somehow managed to eat a bowl of pho, using every morsel of energy in my body to walk up the stairs to see Angkor Wat during a brief sojourn to Cambodia, and our tour guide in Saigon FaceTiming his girlfriend to show her the ‘famous writer’ he was working with (look, I’m a sucker for flattery). It was fun and mad and exhausting and fascinating all at once.
I’m going to level with you: access isn’t bad - it’s non-existent. There basically aren’t any drop kerbs but it doesn’t really matter because, especially in Hanoi, the pavements are too crowded with parked mopeds to be passable. ‘Wheelchair accessible’ translates to ‘some people are available to carry you’. At Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum there actually is access but you inexplicably can’t go in if you have an electric wheelchair. It’s chaos. You just have to go with it and be extremely comfortable with being picked up.
Luckily, I had sort of prepared myself. I knew access would be what it would be, and I’m fortunate that when absolutely necessary I can get out of my chair and walk with dad and Georgia (hence climbing Angkor Wat). My travel chair is light enough to be carried or bumped up and down kerbs. I don’t mind being carried in my chair either. I’m generally unfazed. It was difficult but ultimately fine; I’m incredibly lucky that I have all the help and gear (and, let’s be honest, funds) to pretty much do as I please. I don’t take any of this for granted.
What I did find tricky was how willing strangers, all of whom were men, were to touch me without asking. It’s important to say that they weren’t doing this in a creepy way; invariably, they were just trying to help. But as soon as dad stood me up, there were other hands on me, which isn’t particularly pleasant (or helpful, you have to know how I move to be of any use). The thing I noticed most was that if I said no it didn’t really make a difference, but when dad did they’d let go. Again, it was broadly fine, but something perhaps to be aware of, especially if you’re travelling without a man to make the point for you.
On the other hand, I was really pleasantly surprised by how few people (if any) stared at me. This was all the more remarkable given the (admittedly concerning) fact that we hardly saw any other disabled people. Across the world - across language, culture and geography - I usually find that the fewer disabled people you see out and about, the more likely people are too stare. To some extent, it’s just human nature - we all notice the things we deem out of the ordinary. But in Vietnam no one seemed remotely bothered by the disabled woman attempting to weave through the mopeds in an electric wheelchair, and for that I was grateful.
Would I recommend Vietnam to other disabled travellers? Yes and no. Obviously, I am a go-for-it-and-make-it-work sort of gal, and I’m loath to say there’s anything a disabled person can’t do. The sights and culture and food of Vietnam are well worth it. You should absolutely go. But the truth is you are going to need to take muscle (your own or someone else’s). You are going to have to be happy to get out of your chair, and to be carried (either in it or out of it). You have to surrender to the inaccessibility. If you can, you might just find yourself on a boat in Halong Bay, or looking at ancient wall carvings in Cambodia, and thinking: I can’t believe me and my wheels made it here.
Speak soon,
Lucy