After Cat Ba and Pu Luong, we found ourselves drawn to the quieter side of Northern Vietnam—places where the landscape spoke louder than the itinerary. Ninh Binh, often called “Ha Long Bay on land,” felt like the right place to continue that experience before heading south.
We arranged a shared transfer through our homestay in Trang An. The shuttle cost was 170,000 VND (~9 CAD) per person one way.
Arrival in Trang An
We arrived in Ninh Binh on New Year’s Day, traveling from Hanoi and settling into Trang An Peaceful Homestay. The name promised tranquility—and it delivered. The homestay sits at the end of a short lane that literally stops at a towering karst wall.
It seemed tucked away from everything, surrounded by dramatic limestone cliffs and open countryside—an ideal place to unwind after the intensity of Hanoi.
Small cabins are arranged around a pool, backed directly by the rock face, making the homestay feel closely integrated with the surrounding landscape. Our room was simple but spacious, with a large bathroom. We saw other homestays nearby built more like larger inns with rows of rooms, while this one felt smaller in scale and more in tune with the Trang An setting.
We stayed for 7 nights and paid 514,286 VND (~27 CAD) per night, with breakfast included.
For lunch, we stopped at a tiny café nearby set in the front yard of a family’s home.
While we ate, everyday life unfolded around us—a small nail salon operating out of the garage, a child napping in the shade, the quiet rhythm of a household continuing beside us.
Afterwards, we headed out for a walk to explore our surroundings.
A Hidden Temple in the Cliffs
Not far from the homestay, we came across Đền Tràng An Cổ—Tràng An Ancient Temple. The complex sat across the main road by the river, just beyond an arched entrance. As we passed through it, a bus was already pulling away from the parking area.
Inside, the space felt like a small lived-in village rather than a formal temple complex. A boat dock along the river was still active, with people running the site and offering boat tours. A communal house stood in the center, and low houses stretched along the edges.
Behind this working riverside area, a gate opened between cliffs, reflected in a still pond. From here, a staircase led upward into a more secluded inner section.
At the top were two small Taoist temples, where incense smoke spiraled into the cloudy sky and stone lions stood guard with almost mischievous expressions. One of the temples was dedicated to Đinh Tiên Hoàng, the first Vietnamese emperor, whose statue stood inside.
The history was present, but what lingered was a subtle sense of mystery beneath it all.
We were the only visitors in this upper area. A Vietnamese narration played continuously from loudspeakers scattered around the site, reaching into every corner of the space.
We continued up a narrow staircase climbing along the rock face. The higher we climbed, the more the world below receded, until we reached a small landing carved into the cliff.
In its center was a well, its stone cover shaped as a yin-yang symbol.
Looking down into it, we could see another staircase far below, descending into a shaft of colored light—red and green filtering up from the depths—but with no visible access.
After a brief pause, we climbed on.
The stairs narrowed again, hugging the cliff, before opening onto a small terrace beneath the open sky. A stalactite jutted from the rock above, dripping steadily into a stone vessel below.
Nearby, a white statue of a goddess stood beside another yin-yang well, watching over the space.
It was a place that invited stillness and contemplation, as if time moved differently in the open air.
Even so, the loudspeakers continued, their recorded commentary carrying through the temple and cutting into that stillness.
Yet it felt like a place worth returning to, even with that constant background noise.
Finding Silence
The next morning, we woke to a persistent sound—like a distant waterfall—echoing off the cliffs. For a moment, it felt almost natural in this landscape.
But it wasn’t.
It was construction next door. We hadn’t noticed it the day before—it was a holiday—but now it was in full swing. Even so, it blended into the landscape in a way that made it easy to mistake at first.
After breakfast, we returned to Đền Tràng An Cổ. It was early—around 8 a.m.—and the weather had shifted. A light drizzle fell through the mist, and the entire place was empty again.
We climbed back to the upper terrace. The mist softened everything—the cliffs, bamboo, the sound of water—but the loudspeaker felt even more intrusive against it.
We looked for a way to stop it, and Valery managed to disable the speaker. The constant commentary finally faded away.
Only the sound of raindrops on bamboo leaves remained, mixed with the steady drip of water from the stalactite. The stone vessel below it, now brimming, had been only partially filled the day before.
We sat there for a while, in silence. It felt as though the place had finally revealed itself.
We would return here again later in the week. By then, it no longer felt like a place we had discovered—it felt like ours.
A Cold Boat Ride Through History
Before leaving, Valery turned the loudspeaker back on.
Then we made our way down and took a short boat tour from the temple’s dock, sharing a ride with a young Vietnamese couple.
As the drizzle turned into steady rain, our rower handed out umbrellas—a thoughtful gesture that we appreciated at the time.
The boat moved into Hoàng Long Cave, a long river passage beneath the limestone cliffs.
It felt less like a cave and more like a hidden route through the mountain—one where Đinh Tiên Hoàng was said to have held war councils.
We drifted along the river until we reached the tomb of Lê Đại Hành, the second emperor of Vietnam. We climbed the steps to visit it, finding a quiet, almost desolate settting surrounded by cliffs and waterways.
On the way back, we passed through the cave again and continued in the opposite direction, gliding under a bridge and through Trang An village—the same area where we were staying.
By then, the cold had begun to set in. Rain and falling temperatures gradually turned the ride from peaceful to uncomfortable. What had started as a calm, atmospheric experience became something we were simply waiting to finish.
When it finally ended, we were glad to get back, dry off, and warm up.
Don’t Trust the Forecast
Ninh Binh taught us an important lesson: don’t trust the forecast.
We learned it when we finally made it to Van Long Wetland Reserve. We had postponed the visit because rain was expected earlier in our stay, hoping for better weather later. But neither forecast proved reliable—the rain never came when expected, and the clear skies never fully materialized.
In the end, we decided to go anyway.
Wearing every layer we had—including snorkeling pants under my trousers—we arrived at the dock, facing a cold wind that made the idea of a boat ride feel questionable at best.
But once we were on the water, things changed.
The wind dropped.
The reeds and cliffs provided shelter.
And as we moved deeper into the reserve, everything grew still.
A Different Kind of Ninh Binh
Van Long felt completely different from Trang An.
There were no roads, no traffic, no construction—no noise at all. Just water, limestone cliffs, and wide stretches of reeds.
Some channels were nearly blocked by vegetation, creating a maze that our rower navigated with reassuring ease.
The only sounds were the gentle movement of water and the soft creak of the paddles.
It felt remote, yet still full of local life—
a woman gathering plants from the water, a man fishing from a small boat, everything moving at the same slow pace as the river.
Learning to Slow Down
The current continued in long, gentle stretches, its movement almost unnoticeable at times.
The highlight came when we reached a cave.
We entered and moved partway inside. Light was visible ahead, and I expected we would pass through, but instead the boat turned back—the passage was too narrow. For a moment, we simply drifted in the dimness before easing back into open water and continuing along the river.
Not long after, a boat passed us in the opposite direction—the only one we saw out there.
The two tourists on board looked cold, huddled against the wind.
We probably looked much the same from their side, as we slipped by in the mist.
Up ahead, the river widened again and the air felt stiller. Our rower, who had been steadily paddling throughout, eventually took off her coat, warmed by the effort.
Watching that, Valery decided to try rowing himself—just to warm up.
He took the paddles and tried to match her rhythm.
It didn’t go well.
The paddles were fixed with ropes and adjusted for the rower’s size, and and the setup didn’t suit his size. After a determined effort, he handed them back with visible relief—but he had warmed up in the process.
Reflection: Finding Patience in Ninh Binh
Looking back, our time in Ninh Binh was defined by contrast:
Quiet temples and intrusive loudspeakers.
Peaceful boat rides through cold rain.
Careful planning that didn’t go as expected.
But through it all, one thing became clear.
This was a place that rewarded patience.
The best moments didn’t come from perfect plans or ideal conditions—but from returning, adjusting, and staying long enough for the place to reveal itself.
We would come to understand this more clearly at Hoa Lu, a place we hadn’t planned to spend much time at—but kept returning to.
Practical Tips for Visiting Trang An in January:
January is low season, with cooler and often rainy weather. It’s quieter, with fewer visitors and significantly cheaper accommodation. We enjoyed this moodier side of Trang An, but it does require some flexibility in your schedule and expectations.
- Weather / Clothing
It can feel quite cold and damp, especially on rainy days. Dressing in layers works best. A light raincoat is useful, and a hat and gloves were very helpful on the water.- Getting There
You can reach Trang An by train or bus, but we found it easiest to arrange a shared transfer through our homestay. The one-way trip cost 170,000 VND (~9 CAD) per person and took about two hours. Booking through the host was slightly cheaper than going directly through a shuttle company.- Boat Tours
- A 1-hour boat ride from Đền Tràng An Cổ (Tràng An Ancient Temple) cost 70,000 VND (~4 CAD) per person.
- At Van Long Nature Reserve, the process was straightforward. We hired a driver for 350,000 VND (~18 CAD) round trip. He took us to the ticket office, where we bought tickets (100,000 VND per person, ~5 CAD) for a 2-hour boat tour. From there, it’s a short walk to the dock.
- Food & Snacks
Trang An has plenty of restaurants, and breakfast is often included with accommodation. Local shops have limited selection, but better stores and a market can be found in Trường Yên, a short Grab ride away. Overall, we found the restaurant options stronger in Trang An.- Cash
Bring enough cash, as there are no ATMs in Trang An. The nearest ones are in Ninh Binh or Hoa Lu.- Phone Signal
Our mobile network (Plus) was unreliable in Trang An, but most restaurants offer free WiFi. Offline navigation apps like Organic Maps are useful.
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