Posted under Vietnam
We flew from Siem Reap to Vietnam’s capital city of Hanoi in the north, arriving late in the evening and departing early the next morning on a three day trip to Halong Bay. During our scenic three-hour bus ride to Halong City on the northeastern coast, we were entertained by some clever and interesting uses of motorbikes, which are often the sole source of transportation. As mentioned in earlier posts, ducks are an integral part of rice cultivation, eating pests and leaving fertilizer as they waddle through the sopping paddies. From the confines of our minibus, we spotted someone carrying at least two hundred live ducks on a moped. The ducks were tightly packed into two topless crates attached to both sides of the bike, their heads sticking up curiously and quacking all the way. The spillover ducks seemed to be standing on the back of the seat, though they must have been fastened down somehow. Soon we came upon a similar setup of live chickens, only the chickens were tied together by their feet and hanging upside down from a wooden stick. It seemed rather cruel, actually, but I couldn’t help staring until they were out of sight. Aaron’s favorite moped sighting of the day involved a farmer with a gigantic live pig, strapped perpendicularly on the seat, on its back with its little pig hooves flailing in the air. We broke into hysterics over that one and just as we began to settle down, another identical pig setup cruised by. In America we take our big trucks for granted. The Vietnamese endeavor to accomplish similar tasks of transport with inferior equipment, relying on their creativity to get the job done. We have the utmost respect for their determination and ingenuity and thank them for keeping our long bus rides entertaining with such feats of bug-eyed hilarity.
We reached Halong City in pleasant spirits and boarded our junk, a traditional Chinese wooden boat, for the first phase of our adventure. We sat down to a relaxing, family-style lunch as the ship cruised into the bay and began getting acquainted with our shipmates. The sky was thick with hazy mist, which partially obscured the magnificent rock formations jutting out of the emerald water in all directions. After lunch, we settled into our surprisingly comfortable cabins with A/C, private bath and hot water. We cruised around for several hours, admiring many of the bay’s more than two thousand limestone islands from the comfort of our sun deck.
We docked briefly at one island to explore an enormous cave full of stalactites and stalagmites, illuminated with dim, colorful lights to intensify the incredible formations. It was the most amazing cave that I had ever seen; created by thousands of years of ocean waves eroding the island from the inside. The cave was so large that we spent almost an hour inside, exploring its mystical hollows. We exited onto a terrace with an elevated view of ships on the bay that lit up each person’s face as he first beheld it.
Back on the boat, the rest of the day invited total relaxation. Some people went kayaking while the less ambitious of us lounged on the sun deck and basked in the picturesque tranquility of Halong Bay. It was a wonderfully lazy afternoon. Dinner was served around seven, followed by a raucous evening of karaoke. I must clarify, for the record, that I am not a fan of karaoke. While my mother has the voice of an angel, my tone-deaf attempts at singing anything over and above childish ditties incite cringing unpleasantness. There is a reason that karaoke is always set up in alcoholic venues and, having foregone the alcoholic offerings at dinner, I was adamantly against participating in karaoke, and against karaoke altogether, if the truth be told. But my attitude softened when my little ham serenaded me with “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling”; the other guys on the ship joined in for the refrain which made everyone laugh. It was downhill from there.
Early the next morning, about half of us boarded a smaller boat to continue the journey while others, who had only booked the one-night adventure, sailed back to port. Our excursion for the second day was a visit to one of the sparsely inhabited islands in the bay. Our small boat docked near a stall with bicycles and motorbikes, on which we could ride around the island for a couple of hours. Aaron and I chose bicycles, each with a basket and a bell, and off we went. Some of our group chose motorbikes and others opted to walk so we were on our own. The road was hilly and winding, eventually opening up to a stunning green valley in the middle of the island. We coasted through fields of rice with grazing water buffaloes and paddy-hat-wearing fieldworkers. A tiny village of simple farmers straddled the road and we waved to the villagers as we passed slowly. There were many baby animals, including puppies, kittens, piglets and chicks. Little boys lazed in a hammock on the front porch of their simple house. The adults walked and rode old bicycles to and fro, attending to their daily tasks. The experience was very authentic and beautiful. The people had clearly seen enough tourists so as not to be shocked by two bell-ringing pale faces cruising through but not enough to take us for walking dollar signs.
Riding leisurely, we eventually reached a small shaded café, where our friends were waiting with refreshments. We stopped to rest a while, cracking open a couple of lukewarm sodas (ice is at a premium in places like this). A family of chickens pecked around outside the café while inside, our guide, Huy, offered us a free sample of Vietnamese moonshine. A popular spirit among locals and daring tourists alike, this Vietnamese specialty, called ruon ran is actually rice wine with a pickled snake marinating in it. This particularly nasty brew, served in a large plastic jar, contained a snake, gecko and a baby bird. It is believed to increase virility in men and cure everything from night blindness to impotence. “Who wants to try?” Huy asked with a mischievous grin, as he removed the lid to give us a closer look at the trifecta of foulness inside.
The two Aussies and the Kiwi in our group took little convincing. Aaron teetered for about five seconds, as we continued to inspect the contents, and then not only acquiesced but pressured me to succumb as well. Of course, I wasn’t having any part of it. “Hell no! My body is a shrine. I’m very discriminating about what goes into it,” I snapped, which immediately conjured up flashbacks of all the bad things that I have allowed into my shrine in the past. There was a time in my life when my insatiable appetite for experience dominated over my judgment – when I would probably have been the first to down the snake wine – but those days are long gone. I had the time of my life but now enjoy my current status as living proof that there is rest for the wicked.
Without further delay, Huy poured one cup of snake wine in turn for each of the takers who winced at the thought before pouring it quickly down the hatch. Aaron said that it wasn’t bad – it tasted like saké. One of the Aussie’s reported a bird-like aftertaste, the mere thought of which made me nauseous. Everyone lived to tell the tale.
After our rather exciting rest at the café, we took a very brief and mildly pleasant walk into a dense, green national park and then hopped back onto our bikes and headed for the dock. The ride was food for the spirit as we pedaled along, oblivious to time and worldly cares, stopping for photos of the landscape and ringing our bells for the village kiddos. We were happy and light, smiling into the drizzle that broke the heat of the afternoon sun. About a kilometer from the dock, my front tire went flat, probably from all of the potholes on the unsealed road, but it did not deflate my high as my darling husband, ever the gentleman, insisted on walking my bike while I rode the last stretch on his.
Lunch was waiting for us on the boat and, as we dined, the boat cruised toward Cat Ba Island, where we would spend our second night in a hotel. We checked into our room, which was quite luxurious by our standards, and collapsed onto the bed. I flipped on the television, quickly found the movie channels, and refused to leave the room, even for dinner. There was supposedly a nice beach on the island and others from our group met for drinks after dinner but I had fallen victim to the curse of comfort. It sounds backwards, I realize, but we have discussed often throughout our travels how accommodation that is too luxurious and inclusive can be a hindrance to one’s experience. When we are too comfortable in our room, we tend to hibernate inside instead of exploring the culture and landscapes beyond the confines of our hotel. We actually prefer rooms that are just uncomfortable enough to keep us out all day.
Early the next morning, we departed for Halong City, savoring our last hours on the junk. Our Halong Bay cruise was like a mini-vacation. The gentle rocking of the boat lulled us into a happy, contemplative daze as we stared across some of Vietnam’s most spectacular scenery. The excursions were interesting and required minimal physical or mental effort. The meals were all included and we were allotted plenty of free time to socialize or laze about and retreat into our solitary thoughts. We didn’t have a single worry and that, my friends, is what a good vacation makes.
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