Happy Water and Maple Syrup
How shared drinks and meals in Vietnam reminded me that around the table, we all speak the same language
🎬 Sometimes the story keeps writing itself even after it ends – A behind-the-scenes moment is waiting at the end of this post, for The Secret Journey members only.
📍Ha Giang Loop, Vietnam
On the first evening of the Loop Tour, we arrived at a very nice hostel. Everything looked clean, the private room I booked looked comfortable, and the bathroom was clean. After two weeks in Vietnam, I've understood that the "shower room" concept is standard here. Only in modern, Western-style places can you find a shower stall or even a bathtub like we're used to in the West. The Vietnamese way is simply to put a shower in the bathroom with the toilet, and I still can't get used to the idea.
After a refreshing shower, I had an hour free before dinner, so I went out to wander around the small town we were in. It's strange - I don't even know where I am on the map. This is so unlike me, to let go of control like this, to just be, to just enjoy the journey, and that's it.
When I reached the main street, I faced my favorite question: "Which way to go?" Right or left? And like most times, I remembered the lines from "Alice in Wonderland" - if it doesn't matter where I get to, then it doesn't matter which way I go.
I chose left, and walked a few steps only to suddenly see, in the middle of a village in northern Vietnam - a huge restaurant sign in... Hebrew. I blinked to make sure I wasn't imagining it. "Wow, we really are everywhere, aren't we?" I laughed to myself.
I continued wandering down the main street, seeing the different shops and the local market where people simply spread white sheets on the ground and place various vegetables, fruits, and herbs for sale. On the way back, the sun had already set and the market vendors had packed up their goods. I wondered if they'd had a good day.
I passed by the local school. At sunset, the place was teeming with people - two volleyball courts where men and women played professionally, football and basketball courts, and crowds of spectators. The density made me wonder what happens when a ball accidentally flies too far and interrupts another game.
There was something so universal and moving about this sight - children and adults of all ages gathering for ball games just like they do everywhere in the world. Perhaps it's the most beautiful reminder that in our essence, we all want the same things - to connect, to play, to be happy together. No matter what language we speak or where we are.
I returned to the hostel and we started dinner with shots of "happy water" - the local alcohol. It's a strong drink that quite resembles Japanese sake. The name makes perfect sense - it looks just like water, is usually served in a water bottle, and made me wonder how many times people have confused it with regular water.
But what really captivated me more than the alcohol itself was the Vietnamese toast ritual, which is simply impossible not to get swept up in.
All the drivers came and gathered around our table (they had their own table, with more local food, and perhaps cheaper?). Someone stands up and shouts a phrase, then we all repeat after him, several times, until the energy peaks and we feel like a basketball team before the big final with the coach pumping us up with winning "poison." It was amazing, contagious, intoxicating, and simply fun!
Every time we did another shot of happy water, someone else led the ritual. I can say this happened quite a few times throughout the evening, maybe that's why I remember it as an especially funny night.
I haven't drunk alcohol for a long time, simply because I realized it interferes with my writing, and my priorities have changed. This time, I'm on vacation, yes, probably a "forced" vacation from writing too, so come on, let's do another shot.
The meal was excellent. It was indeed the same meal we had for lunch, and in fact, the same meal we had for all the other meals on the tour, but it's truly an excellent and diverse meal, so for me it was wonderful.
I really love the Vietnamese style of serving with a large platter in the center of the table, so everyone shares all the dishes. Each person gets a small bowl, a pot of white rice is the main component, and around it are a variety of wonderful flavors - stir-fried chicken, tender meat stew, seasoned tofu, cooked vegetables (usually bok choy, spinach, or edamame), fried potatoes that definitely qualify as chips (although they taste different from Western chips), there's always a vegetable omelet on the table, fresh spring rolls, fried spring rolls... and everything is simply delicious and a treat for the palate!
In another conversation, when we were talking about local food, I asked the women in the group about traditional food in their countries. The French woman talked about a traditional breakfast of bread with butter and jam, and on special weekend mornings, croissants. I told about the sandwich I used to take to school for mid-morning break - pita with omelet. The Canadian woman told about an American-style breakfast of bacon and eggs, and that she usually eats cereal with milk.
"Yes, cereal with milk is universal, I think," I laughed, along with everyone else.
We talked about the differences in meal times, as the French woman and I shared the same approach of a late breakfast, lunch around 2 PM, and dinner at 8-9 PM - which is exactly when restaurants in Canada close.
I laughed and said I know this from Australia - there too they wake up early and eat a full breakfast at 6-7 AM, lunch already at noon, and 5 PM is dinner time.
It's amazing how people's daily schedules look different from country to country. I think eating the last meal of the day at 5 PM is healthier for the body than eating late at night, but you don't always stay full until bedtime. And then it's accompanied by additional food, which is usually not particularly healthy - snacks or "late night food" like fast food. I know, because those were my options when I was hungry "late" in Australia.
The Canadian woman suddenly jumped up and said: "Maple syrup! We have maple syrup!" and we all laughed. Of course, how could we forget Canadian maple syrup.
She intrigued me when she said her family produces maple syrup - they have their own factory, but it's just for the family and they don't market it.
"So you have an entire factory just for the family? How much maple syrup does one Canadian family consume that they need their own factory?" I said, and we all burst out laughing.
"Well, the truth is we do consume quite a bit..." she said with a smile.
I asked her about the production process itself. All I know is the famous maple leaf, but as always, I was curious to know what happens behind the scenes.
She passionately described the production process - how in spring, nighttime temperatures are very low, below 0°C, and then in the morning they're relatively high (above 10°C), and that's exactly when maple trees produce fluids.
"We place a container next to each tree and collect the fluids, and then take them through a process at the factory," she explained.
She added that some people do this on a larger scale and build systematic collection systems, but her grandfather bought the factory when he was 20, and since then they've been doing it the traditional way - each tree gets personal attention.
"Wait, how many trees are we talking about?" I suddenly asked.
"Hundreds. I have 400 trees in my area, my cousin has 100," she said, and we were all in shock.
"Wow! You have areas! That's amazing!" I exclaimed like a child, and it immediately reminded me of the hospitality world, where waiters have areas in restaurants, and there too it's about trees... though in the form of furniture. Oops, too early for dark humor?
"Yes, and it's really fun. I really love this process, and our maple syrup is very tasty," she said calmly.
It's fascinating how food always connects us. In a distant place, in a town I didn't even know the name of on the map, I found myself laughing with strangers who became friends through conversations about breakfasts, drinking rituals, and maple syrup.
Perhaps that's the magic of food - it not only nourishes the body but also the soul and the connections between us. Just like the Vietnamese serving style to the center of the table - we all share the same basic human experiences, exchanging flavors, memories, and stories.
And then I thought - maybe that's what they meant by "happy water." Not just the alcohol itself, but the joy that comes when people gather around the table, drinking, eating, and sharing the unique flavors of life.
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🎬Behind The Scenes
Karaoke Night
After dinner, the drivers set up a TV, a speaker, and some microphones — it was karaoke time. Karaoke is super common here in Southeast Asia — in the Philippines, and apparently in Vietnam too. People here just love to sing.
The evening started with Vietnamese songs sung by the drivers, and then moved on to timeless classics we could all join in on. Sometimes our friends picked fun, easy songs, and sometimes, by accident, hardcore rap tracks that even native English speakers couldn’t keep up with. It was hilarious, and all the off-key singing just made it even funnier.
I found myself once again refusing to hold the mic, even though I was yelling along to every song I knew. It hit me only the next day: every time I’ve come across a karaoke night, I’ve never had the courage to actually sing.
And here you are, calling me brave for traveling across the world alone, but holding a microphone? Are you kidding me?
I guess I just really don’t like being the center of attention. Even though... that’s not exactly true. I don’t like everyone’s eyes on me. Even though... that’s not quite it either. Maybe I’m just afraid of hearing my own voice in the speakers — because that would mean... I actually have something to say?
Going from the quiet, introverted kid who barely spoke to someone shouting into a microphone — yeah, that leap still feels too big for me right now.
Maybe karaoke just isn’t for me, and that’s totally fine. But what bothers me is that I’ve never even tried. Because what if it’s not for me, but how would I know, if I’ve never tried?
“We’re all just here for a moment — it’s fine.
We probably won’t see each other again, and no one’s going to remember how anyone sang.”
That’s what the French girl told me, talking about herself and her own confidence to sing. She sang almost all night long — and honestly, she really inspired me.
So okay. I’ll take this one slow. Right now, I’ve only just decided that I want to try. So maybe next time… I’ll actually do it.