All the time in Vietnam I kept thinking about the war. I remember the last few years of high school and our worries that boys we knew would be forced to mobilise and spend army years in Vietnam. We comforted ourselves that very few Australians were killed but went to protest marches anyway. My parents didn’t like it, I had to tell them I was at a friend’s place. Finally I was old enough to go without making excuses and Whitlam pulled us out of American wars anyway.

The Vietnamese are so caring and kind that I don’t understand why we wanted to make war and up-end their lives in the first place. On the last day in Hoi An I was in bed because my flu came back. I decided I was going to make the group farewell dinner come hell or high water. No high water but I felt like hell. Walking was difficult so I took a cab. I got out of the cab and was standing at the corner waiting to cross. The road was full of motorcycles zooming every which way and there didn’t seem to be a pathway through them.

Or maybe I was too zonked out to see it. A lady had her wares laid out on a cloth near the corner where I was standing. She must have left them because the next thing I knew she was tapping me on the shoulder and gently took my hand and lead me through the motorcycles. I hope I thanked her enough. I kept going to the restaurant thinking that I’d never been in a country where people weren’t just crazy for my money. They were that too but she didn’t take anything for leading me across the road. I think of her often when I cross busy roads.

The same thing happened later that evening. I came to life for dinner and shopping for sandals but then couldn’t face the walk home. We tried to find a cyclo but it seems they had all gone to bed for the night. It wasn’t that late but I was pissed, and tired, and swore that if one of them ever tried to attract my attention again I would give him the finger.

I was whingeing and complaining when some locals offered to help. One of them rode his bike around to try and find a moped to take me home but had no luck. In the end they put me on a boat. Annette came with me and half the others in my group came down to wave us off. It was glorious rowing on the river with the lights of the night market on one side and the dark of the day market on the other and strange plaster creatures along the riverbank. The lady dropped us a bridge before the hotel and we walked slowly from there. We had a drink before bed.

There was generosity in Danang too. There were gifts left in the room every day. There were free meals if you complained about the food and questions about how they could make it better for you. Sincere attempts to get better, or so it seemed to me. Though this is a tourist city, there’s benefits to being good at it. But the thing I will always remember was the effort made to find me tea.

I wasn’t feeling well one evening so Carolyn ordered lemon and ginger tea to my room. It didn’t arrive so I reordered it with pho for dinner and some camomile tea as well because I always have camomile when my stomach is doing poorly. I thought they would just bring lemon and ginger and some camomile teabags for me to have later.

I got my pho but they insisted on making the lemon and ginger tea. Then a little while later a guy turns up with Equilibrium tea. They didn’t have any camomile but this contained some camomile so they hoped I might like it. Again they insisted on making it for me. I was beginning to feel like a bottomless lake so I asked them not to.  Camomile is my good luck charm and my heal-all when my stomach is wonky so I really didn’t want Equilibrium. I knew they were trying their best but it was just too much tea.

About an hour later there was a knock on the door. Someone had gone to Housekeeping and found camomile tea bags. Having them make that sort of effort for me was a really precious thing.

And kindness again in Halong Bay where they made special meals for me on the boat cruise because I don’t eat seafood. And the driver in Hanoi was nice and so was the tour guide. Four years later and I still want to go back there. I hope they haven’t changed.