“Đi thôi bạn tôi” and the Power of Shared Experience
The Ha Giang Loop is a multi day motorbike route in the far northern region of Vietnam, close to the Chinese border. It winds through the Dong Van Karst Plateau, a UNESCO heritage region known for dramatic limestone mountains, deep valleys, terraced fields, and small towns that are home to more than twenty ethnic groups, each with their own language, traditions, and history.
It is breathtaking. But what makes the Ha Giang Loop unforgettable has less to do with the scenery and far more to do with the shared experience of moving through it together.
I spent four days traveling the Loop with people I had just met. Ages ranged from 18 to 70. We came from different countries, spoke different languages, and arrived with completely different life stories. Within hours, none of that mattered.
Days were spent riding through winding mountain passes, hairpin turns, and vast open landscapes that made you feel both small and deeply alive. I rode on the back of a motorbike driven by a Vietnamese guide I had just met, holding on as we laughed and communicated with only a handful of shared words. Early on, he taught me a phrase that became a kind of refrain for the journey: “Đi thôi bạn tôi,” which means “Let’s go, my friend.” It captured the spirit of the entire experience. Trust, momentum, and openness wrapped into simple words.
We shared meals family style, eating from platters placed at the center of the table. No one tracked who ordered what or worried about preferences. We passed dishes, tried unfamiliar foods, and trusted the group. There is something quietly powerful about eating this way. It creates equality. It builds ease. It signals that the experience belongs to everyone.
Evenings often ended with karaoke. Songs in multiple languages. Voices at every stage of life. A nineteen year old from Germany sang alongside people decades older. I laughed and sang with strangers who quickly felt like friends. Confidence mattered far less than willingness. Music did what it always does best. It connected us.
There were smaller moments too. I bonded with a woman from Denmark over a little boy who climbed onto our table while we were studying a menu. He played with us as if we were already known to him. No one hurried him away. His family smiled and we smiled. It was a reminder of how quickly connection forms when space is made for it.
We slept in family homes along the route, waking to the sounds of daily life already in motion. We learned about local history and culture from people who live it every day. After dinner, our trip leader and drivers poured shots of something they called “happy water”, which we quickly learned was not optional and very much part of the experience! We toasted together, laughed together, and built trust in the most human way possible.
And always there was the landscape. Steep cliffs dropping into river gorges and mist rolling through the mountains. Roads that felt carved directly into stone. Some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen, made even more powerful because we were experiencing it together over time, not rushing through it, but moving with it.
What stayed with me most was how quickly a sense of culture formed among our small group. In organizations, we often talk about culture as something abstract or difficult to shape. But culture is built through shared experience and shared time. Through moments of trust, through eating together, through learning together. Through being a little uncomfortable together and choosing to stay present anyway.
The Ha Giang Loop was a living example of this. Within days, norms emerged. People looked out for one another. Laughter became easier. Differences became interesting rather than dividing. None of this was forced. It happened because we were given time, common purpose, and the opportunity to experience something meaningful side by side.
This is the power of shared experience, whether in travel or in organizations. When people move through something together, hierarchy softens. Language barriers fade. Roles matter less than relationships. What remains is connection.
I left the Ha Giang Loop with memories I will carry for a long time, friendships that formed without effort, and a deeper appreciation for how quickly community can emerge when people are given the space to be human together.
“Đi thôi bạn tôi.”
Let’s go, my friend.
