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I held my breath as I watched five locals on one scooter, zipping in and out of traffic and missing the bus I was in by a hair's width. The bus driver however didn't bat an eyelid, despite the constant beeping and mopeds darting through the traffic.
I’d just arrived in Hanoi - the first stop on my solo venture around Vietnam for my 30th birthday - and felt completely out of my comfort zone, exhausted from the 12-hour flight and completely alone in this manic city.
After wandering around in the evening heat of 32 degrees in Hanoi’s eccentric Old Quarter with two huge rucksacks strapped to my chest and back, I stumbled upon a crystal jewellery shop.
I was relieved when the woman who worked behind the counter sparked conversation, allowing me to soak up the cool air conditioning. Her name was Thuận, she was my age and was a walking-talking encyclopedia on crystals. I loved her immediately.
We chatted for 45 minutes and I later found out that she kept the shop open an extra half an hour just so we could continue geeking out over Vietnamese jade. “Do you want to come and join me and a friend for a beer?” she asked, nodding to her scooter parked outside the shop.
After my bus ride I was wary of joining the scooters on the road - and I also reminded myself that this woman was essentially a perfect stranger. I politely declined, but we agreed to meet for coffee the next day.
One thing you must know about the Vietnamese, which took me most of the trip to get my head around: they do nice things for nothing in return. Thuận picked me up from my Airbnb, which was around the corner from the old town, refused to take money for fuel and instead of coffee (which is superb in Vietnam and the caffeine is like rocket fuel), she took me to one of her favourite spots for lunch - which she paid for while I was in the toilet.
As we slurped our Bun Cha (grilled pork floating in a salty fish sauce soup to which you add rice noodles and fresh herbs), Thuận told me stories of her upbringing on her parents' farm. Her English was excellent and I learned more about the Vietnamese culture with her over lunch than I did on any tour I went on later in the trip.
Meanwhile at my rustic homestay nestled in the green mountains of Sapa, I made friends with Chi, whose English name was Sandy. We spent every day together, treating ourselves to a spa day where an hour of reflexology cost us £16 (494,631.36 Vietnamese dong) and hiked through the hills - swapping stories as we marveled at the scenery.
Sandy was just as eager as Thuận to tell me everything about Vietnam and we visited a pagoda in Sapa city centre.
She invited me to pray in front of a spectacular golden shrine to Buddha and we played a traditional Vietnamese game with a group of Buddhist children and a monk. As I watched the fully-roped monk kick a feathered hacky sack up in the air, I thought to myself, "I couldn't think of a better way to spend the last day of my twenties".
When I was in Hoi An, one of the most beautiful cities in Vietnam, I struck up a conversation with one of the many local tailors after buying far too many pieces of clothing to fit in my rucksack. After telling her that I was off to watch a performance at Hoi An Memories Show (which is a must-see) she offered to drop me there on her scooter.
Refusing to take my assurances of “honestly it’s fine, I’ll get a Grab (Asia’s answer to Uber)” she drove me and again, refused to take any money - so much so that I felt a little embarrassed for offering.
These snippets of kindness were peppered throughout my holiday: the hostel owner who let me stay in a disused dorm room for free after I arrived earlier than expected, the Vietnamese family who offered me a bottle of water in a hot train station, and the seamstress from the H’Mong ethnic group in Sapa who gave me a free handmade bracelet after I’d bought a purse that she had made.
Over my two-week trip I explored the likes of Hanoi, Sapa, Bay Tu Long (a far less touristy cove off Halong Bay), Phong Nha and Hoi An. There was never a moment where I felt unsafe, which in this day and age as a lone female was hard to get used to.
While my expectations of Vietnam’s cuisine and cultural attractions were met in abundance, what I was moved by the most was the Vietnamese people’s generosity, genuine kindness, and outstanding hospitality. I went to Vietnam on a solo trip, but there was nothing lonely about it.