The bicycle diaries

We don't normally go in for yoga and meditation, but it was a case of "when in Vietnam, do as the Vietnamese do", even if our teacher did turn out to be an expat Geordie. By far the most striking thing to come out of our lesson with Joe, the aforementioned Geordie, wasn't the 30 minutes we spent sitting cross-legged gazing at the flame of a small candle while trying to follow his instructions about meditation. It came afterwards, when we were telling him about our holiday. "What you've got to realise," he told us, "is that the rules of the road here are based on cattle herding." True or not, it explained a lot. It explained why bicycles, scooters and cars came drifting across the road from all directions, each on a path only they knew about; it explained the speed - quite slow; and it explained (I hoped) why after a day of cycling round Hanoi, nothing had hit us. I haven't studied the dynamics of herding cattle, but even if they jostle I'm sure they don't knock each other over. I'm not sure who the cat

We don't normally go in for yoga and meditation, but it was a case of "when in Vietnam, do as the Vietnamese do", even if our teacher did turn out to be an expat Geordie. By far the most striking thing to come out of our lesson with Joe, the aforementioned Geordie, wasn't the 30 minutes we spent sitting cross-legged gazing at the flame of a small candle while trying to follow his instructions about meditation. It came afterwards, when we were telling him about our holiday. "What you've got to realise," he told us, "is that the rules of the road here are based on cattle herding." True or not, it explained a lot. It explained why bicycles, scooters and cars came drifting across the road from all directions, each on a path only they knew about; it explained the speed - quite slow; and it explained (I hoped) why after a day of cycling round Hanoi, nothing had hit us. I haven't studied the dynamics of herding cattle, but even if they jostle I'm sure they don't knock each other over. I'm not sure who the cattle herder in Hanoi was, but he'd looked after us so far.

Our bicycles were ancient. They were "sit-up-and-begs" with baskets on the front and dodgy brakes. But they only cost $1 (60p) a day from the Metropole hotel and with them we could pedal off wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We passed other tourists in taxis and rickshaws and felt a sense of liberation. At traffic lights we edged our way boldly to the front of the ranks of scooters and other bicycles, having learned the unwritten rule - if you're the one at the head of the herd, it's up to the vehicle behind to avoid you, however strange your manoeuvres.

Our spirit of adventure took a knock when got to Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum to find that, although we didn't fall foul of the command that refused entry to people in "unserious costume, status of sickness and poor health and culturedless manner", it was shut. Undeterred, we pushed on to the city's West Lake in search of the spot where Senator John McCain's B52 bomber was shot down in 1967. After that we stopped for a Bia Hanoi, the beer that is delivered daily to the city's bars.

The next morning we made a second attempt to see the mausoleum. Too late again. This time it gave us an excuse to cycle round in circles, poring over our inadequate street map in search of Café 252, reportedly Catherine Deneuve's favourite haunt when she was filming Indochine. She's said to have loved its natural yoghurt; we loved its lemon cream cheese tartlet. On the third morning we were up with the lark and it paid off. The doors were open and the coach parties were just arriving to get their glimpse of Uncle Ho. By now we'd discovered the etiquette about parking your bike in Hanoi - it can block the pavement, but it mustn't lean against a tree. And most of the time the exact parking spot is taken out of your hands by the eager attendants who wait outside most cafés and public places offering to watch the bike in exchange for a small(ish) fee. Acceptance isn't optional.

After our success in Hanoi, cycling became our preferred mode of transport. We tried out practically every other type during the holiday: boat, bus, train, aeroplane and foot, but bicycle was the best. It suited the tempo of the country so well. We hired mountain bikes in Sapa up near the Chinese border and spent a day being overtaken on perilous hillside tracks by families on scooters (five people on one bike was our record).

Our best cycling day after Hanoi was in Hue in central Vietnam. This elegant city on the banks of the wide Perfume river is the perfect place for it. It's the epitome of the provincial city that considers itself a cut above the noisy capital. And with good reason - until 1945 it was the home of the Nguyen dynasty, the last emperors of Vietnam. Hue was trashed in the Tet Offensive of 1968, the North Vietnamese Army's attempt to spark an uprising in the south of the country, but something of its old imperial dignity remains. It is particularly evident in the posture of the Hue ladies as they cycle sedately along the river banks, straight-backed in their white or pastel ao dais, the long tunics and wide trousers that are the traditional dress of Vietnamese women.

We tried to cut similarly elegant figures as we set out on a cycling tour of the temples and pagodas that line the river. For the first part of the journey we loaded the bikes on to a tourist boat, and after intense price negotiations with the owner, his mother and his father, we sat back and let ourselves be poled downriver to the pagoda of Thien Mu. The guidebooks describe it as the religious heart of Buddhism in Hue, but for us its chief claim to fame was that in 1963 the monk Thich Quang Duc set out from here in his blue Austin, drove to Saigon and burned himself to death in protest at the regime of the fiercely Catholic president Ngo Dinh Diem. The Austin has been brought back to rest in a corner of the pagoda's grounds and above it is pinned the famous picture of the flames leaping around the car, which at the time appeared on the front pages of newspapers across the world. (And later on the cover of an album by the rock band Rage Against the Machine). It is hard to feel the monk's passion now in the tranquillity of the Thien Mu gardens, shaded by umbrella pines with butterflies dancing among their branches.

Thien Mu was the start of our temple-and-pagoda tour. We rode on through villages and rice fields, sometimes going with the bend of the river, sometimes away from it. There were scooters around but few cars, and the locals seemed to find the sight of two foreigners on bicycles very comical. They ran out of their houses to shout "hallo", or just looked at us and giggled. Perhaps we weren't as elegant as we'd hoped. This is probably because when they're cycling, the women tie scarves around the bottom half of their faces to keep the sun off and often protect their arms with above-the-elbow silk gloves. By the time we left our last temple, the tomb of Emperor Minh Mang, the heat had gone out of the day and we rode along the river back to Hue. The lush green fields radiated calm in the late afternoon light. It was a far cry from the torrent of traffic in Hanoi. We passed water buffaloes having an evening wallow and a crowd of ducklings chirruping away on a muck heap.

The Old Kent Road in London is a far cry from Hanoi, and even further from Hue. But I've learnt a good lesson from the ladies of Vietnam. When I'm on my scooter on the way to work and the car behind me is too close, I straighten my spine and sit up with all the dignity I can muster. It never fails. The most aggressive white van backs off, even in a city where the rules of the road might have been based on the herding patterns of very bad-tempered cattle.

SURVIVAL KIT

GETTING THERE

Services are operated by Singapore Airlines (0870 608 8886; www.singaporeair.com), Malaysian Airlines (0870 607 9090; www.malaysiaairlines.com); Cathay Pacific (020-8834 8888; www.cathaypacific.com/uk); Air France (0845 0845 111: www.airfrance.com/uk); and Thai Airways (0870 606 0911; www.thaiair.com). Singapore flies direct, while other airlines stop off at various cities. The best fares of around £600 are likely to be through a discount agent such as Trailfinders (020-7938 3939; www.trailfinders.com).

STAYING THERE

The Hanoi Metropole (00 84 4826 6919; www.accorhotels-asia.com) has double rooms in December from $143 (£84) a night, excluding breakfast. In Hue, the Hotel Saigon Morin (00 84 5482 3526; www.morinhotel.com.vn) on the south bank of the river has double rooms for around $80 (£47) a night with breakfast.

GETTING AROUND

Trains between the main cities are reasonably cheap but slow. There is a good bus network across the country and Hanoi's Sinh Café (00 84 4828 7809) or the Love Planet Café (00 84 4828 4864) at 25 Hang Bac Street in the city's old quarter will organise travel for you. It's also possible to get internal flights between the main cities - Vietnam Airlines (0870 220 2318; www.vietnamair.com.vn) flies from Hanoi to Ho Chi Min City for around £103 one-way. Pacific Airlines (00 84 8 932 5979; www.pacificairlines.com.vn) also flies the same route.

RED TAPE

UK visitors will need a tourist visa which can be obtained at the Vietnamese Embassy, 12-14 Victoria Road, London (020 7937 1912; www.vietnamembassy.co.uk). You will have to submit two application forms with two passport photographs. The embassy is open for applications from 2-5.30pm Monday-Friday. A visa will cost £38 and is valid for 30 days. The process takes about a week but it is best to allow longer. To extend a visa while in Vietnam travellers are advised to visit the nearest immigration office.