On Vietnam’s Ha Giang loop and beyond with an intestinal parasite

I was silly to think that maybe I wouldn’t have as much to report for my “Crying in…” blogpost series during my two and a half months abroad in Southeast Asia, but it turns out I have shed maybe a tear or two about yet another common ailment during my travels: an intestinal parasite. Through Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Bali an icky and extremely disconcerting parasite was snatching all the nutrients from my pho and drank all my condensed milk coffee, allegedly.

The cause of all this? Probably (but unconfirmed) a fishy-looking bowl of pork soup eaten in Chiang Mai, a divine city in Northern Thailand where I spent a month sleeping on a springy futon and obsessively drinking mango smoothies, and sweating through wrinkly linen shirts.

I haven’t cried very much about this parasite so much as I’ve been utterly disgusted by it. But nonetheless I’ve toured my dear worm through some of the most beautiful terrain it would never see as it was busy nibbling on rice in my digestive tract. 

Before I took my parasite to Northern Vietnam to see the beautiful mountainous region of Ha Giang – a famed and worth-the-hype backpacker hotspot – I took it to the Ho Chi Minh museum in Hanoi, I fed it delicious crispy pork banh mi, I cried with it at the UXO Lao Visitor Center in Luang Prabang, and walked it through temple after temple across Thailand.

Lookout point in Vang Vieng, Laos. (photo: Lauren Mulvey)

Still it raged against me. Primary symptom: constant hunger. But not grrrr tummy rumble hunger, but an empty hunger that sort of feels like another entity inside my body is hungry and not me actually. I ate an entire pizza on this trip and felt like I ate nothing.

I should make it known that I’ve also eaten an absurd amount of questionable meat on a stick during this trip, which maybe is something you could avoid if you’re smarter than me. I ate so much strange looking chicken, extremely pink pork. Sue me! Everyone’s eating it. And a lot of people are also getting parasites…

Many cases of worms or parasites go unnoticed in hosts for months and sometimes years. Symptoms aren’t always presentable, but many people in Southeast Asia treat worms yearly just in case. 

I had even self-treated with anti-parasite meds a couple of times. Pharmacies in Southeast Asia don’t require a prescription for many medications, so when I ate that entire pizza and was still hungry, I took my Google Translate to the nearest hole-in-the-wall pharmacy in Chiang Mai and awkwardly smiled trying to communicate: no, I’m just a dainty little thing! I’m not having intensely strange unspeakable gastrointestinal issues.

They directed me to take 400mg of Albendazole twice a day for three days, which I did. My symptoms faded and I continued traveling through Laos and on to Hanoi and Ninh Binh in Vietnam over the course of a month. But the hunger and other unspeakable issues returned. I got more anti-parasite medication in between canoe tours in Ninh Binh and took the same dosage for three days. But those three days coincided with my four day, three night trip along the famed Ha Giang loop. 

So I took my worm along, and it traversed potholed roads and narrow paths along the loop, which is a cross between a road trip, hostel hopping, and camping arrangement. Backpackers book a motorbike trip via tour operators in Ha Giang City. These trips can be guided self-driven tours where you risk your life navigating hairpin turns and cliffside roads through the mountains, or you ride on the back of a bike with a professional driver. I opted for the latter and got placed on a small group tour with four other travelers. 

My whole trip was booked for me ahead of time, the price included home stays for four nights, gas, food, water and a driver. The first day of the trip was glorious, sunny and scenic. We coursed through beautiful valleys speckled with yellow and green tall grasses, and glowing rice terraces. 

Hairpin turns along Northern Vietnam’s famous Ha Giang loop. (photo: Lauren Mulvey)

My hunger rose and fell throughout the days as clouds overtook our routes making our motorbike rides chilly to the bone. I cursed myself for not bringing warmer clothes. I had left my big bulky basic backpacker Osprey at my original hostel with most of my clothes in Hanoi and planned to pick it up after the loop. I had just a small pack with a few changes of clothes, toiletries and many boxes of anti-parasite. I started wearing all the clothes I brought to bed to layer up, but the cold still penetrated.

I peed in dozens of holes in the ground and often couldn’t wash my hands before meals as bathrooms at rest stops often didn’t have soap. I turned away shots of the country’s famous happy water every evening when my fellow travelers and their drivers would drink and sing karaoke with each word arriving two beats too late. 

My driver – who was undoubtedly in love with me – would try to pressure me into taking shots, but eventually kindly accepted my refusal and grabbed my water bottle to pour a shot of water into my tiny glass before we chanted and clinked our cups together.

When we reached stops with hand soap, I washed my hands thrice like a maniac. At restaurants, I took my pill before arguing at dinner with 30 year old Danish loop-goers about racism whilst picking at pieces of beef and chicken and inspecting them very closely before each bite. Everyone probably thought I was an insane American or had the LARGEST stick up my ass. Both are fine to assume, and likely not far from the reality of the situation.

By the end of the trip I finished my course of medication (which I wasn’t sure was working) and felt like a child with perpetually sticky hands. I continued on to another famous region of Vietnam called Sapa west of Ha Giang where I finally had regular access to soap. Here, I spent two days hiking through old native villages and rice terrace farms in white sneakers through dense muddy bamboo forests, and sleeping on the floor at village home stays where I snacked on nuts and listened to British tourists drink into the wee hours, and then throw up in the one shared bathroom into the wee-ier hours. It rained practically the whole time, and still Sapa’s famous rice terraces were perfect shaded by dense fog and misty rainfall.

Indigenous villages in Sapa, a protected area where these communities still live, work and farm. (photo: Lauren Mulvey)

I began my route back to Hanoi on a six hour bus ride. With symptoms worsening and my time in Vietnam coming to a close, I grabbed medication one last time back in the city where the pharmacists gave me different instructions: one 400mg pill today and one two weeks from now. News to me! I took as prescribed and my symptoms subsided for the last time. 

I was in Bali when my symptoms finally stopped for good. On my way back to the U.S. I stopped in Florence, Italy to go to my favorite restaurants and deny myself any new experiences. I finished bowls of lasagna and felt satisfied, a sigh of relief, but I also reflected on how my parasite would’ve loved the bolognese, we had a good run together.

Despite it all, I would highly recommend a trip to Southeast Asia and moreover, the Ha Giang loop. Oddly, I met very few Americans (maybe two) throughout my 2.5 month trip. Get over there, guys! My parasite and I saw some of the most beautiful vistas in the world, hiked steep trails, rode on the back of many motorbikes, and ate a lot meat on a stick which was undoubtedly delicious. I would do it all again.

Luckily, back in the U.S. I headed straight for the gastroenterologist who tested me for a parasite and found that the medication had worked - no more hunger, no more other unspeakable symptoms, no more parasite. She also told me that you can eat two kiwi per day to help with constipation. Do what you will with that.