Time freezes in this serene setting, dominated by lush green grass in front of a circular lake entirely surrounded by heaps of towering trees. We were only here for a couple of hours, but it seemed like more than enough time to properly clear my mind of all big city worries. Prior to our visit, I had only heard and read about Lake Apo. I expected it to be much larger, so expansive that you wouldn't have to hear the exuberant yells of children echoing from the other end.

In reality, it was much smaller and significantly more charming. I could clearly hear the kids playing from the opposite side, where a few traditional nipa huts dotted the lake's edges. These are the exact kinds of tiny houses I often fantasize about having as my retirement home. I thought to myself, "I could retire here." A small wooden cabin and the peaceful atmosphere of this location would serve me exceptionally well.

During the four mornings I spent in the city of Hanoi in-between my jaunts to Halong Bay and Sapa, my favorite part was walking around Hoan Kiem Lake. Being under sunny skies, feeling the winter wind, and being embraced by the twelve-degree Celsius cold was the perfect condition to romp, stomp, and get to know a new city. The occasional showers, which showed up at an interlude of a couple of hours, had me sheltering under the tall trees that surrounded the lake. Otherwise, I would have gone round and round the lake. Sometimes I would walk toward a random street, ending up on another side of the Old French Quarters, but each time I would always follow a path back to Hoan Kiem Lake.

After achieving a zen state of mind at the ninth-century Buddhist temple complex of Borobudur, we proceeded to another throwback landmark from that century—that time, the Hindu temple called Candi Prambanan. My interest level in seeing more temples that day fluctuated below the 0.50 mark since I had already had my house-of-worship fix. However, upon stepping out of our van, the sight of the sharp tips of Prambanan's stupas ushered in a new wave of curiosity as to what fascinating discoveries awaited me inside.

The weather in Hanoi hovered down to twelve degrees according to the app on my phone; whether it was accurate or not, my pulsating fingers were telling me there was no need to question its veracity. So, while waiting for the van to pick me up at the office of Sinh Tourist, I walked across to a small noodle joint and ordered a bowl of hot Pho Ga. My newfound friend in the city, Hoang, had told me about the snow that had fallen in Sapa a few days before; she advised me to add extra layers of clothing. I told Hoang the cold never bothered me anyway. It was a lie; as I sat quivering, waiting to sip on some hot Vietnamese chicken noodles, I imagined how much coldness awaited me in Sapa.