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Published: March 30th 2011
Sunday, 22nd August Via a relatively poor night of sleep due to the fact there was a storm and our roof had more holes in it than the plot of Star Wars (see Robot Chicken) we got onto a 3 hour bus to Ha Long Bay. We hadn't booked onto a party boat but were quite surprised that the average age of our tour group was older than Helen Mirren (what she looks like, not is). Of course we made the classic commission-for-bus-driver stop on the way, panicky to see the Israelis from the bus on a similar tour (please not the same boat).
At the port was more p*ss*ing around but a view of things to come. A thousand junkers in front of a thousand islands. At the port I was groped on the bum by a Viet man travelling with his sister from the South (ooo controversial). An Argentine guy on our bus the other day suffered the same fate - must be normal here. It's okay, I kinda enjoyed it. Older man and all that.
The boat we booked was a 'deluxe'. Sounds good, but not as good as the 'superior'. It's a common theme here
Thousand Islands
Well, four or so- be warned if you haven't got a 'SUPER-MEGA-LUXURY-1st CLASS-SUPERIOR-AWESOMENESS' then you've pretty much just paid for 'SH*T', but then you should've known that from the price.
Our first stop on the 3 day tour was a huge grotto. Kept beautifully natural the inside was lighter than outside with all the neon. Cuong, our coke bottle bespectacled tour guide, treated us to a legend of a mystical dragon who did something interesting to some people and something was happily ever after. He betrayed his age giggling at the stalacmite boob. I betrayed my mental age pretending to lick it.
Getting out of the caves summarised everything wrong with the Vietnamese (and perhaps wider area). One boat pulls into the bay, another in behind it. Pretty soon it's a Next January sale. And how do you escape being closed in? The brute force of your boat's engine of course. Never mind the creaking to almost breaking point of these wooden junks (on purpose).
Having read this diary religiously as you do(!) you should know by now that a 3 day tour always has its first afternoon travelling. Fortunately this one was on a gently swaying boat on a
dead flat sea in the baking sun with hundreds of small islands covered in their greenery and birdlife. We got to know Sam and Laura a bit better. A right little pair of entrepreneurs they are, the type of people who see a product in China, buy a thousand and make a 200% mark up on them. Unbelievable.
The boat arrived at Cat Ba Island, our stop for the night. The place was effectively just one port with a few hotels dotted around. We took the remainder of the afternoon to head to the nearest bay. Remember the boats at the caves? No? It was just 3 paragraphs ago Alzheimers. Anyway, same situation just now boats are the Vietnamese. Couldn't move in the sea for them. The sea was incredibly warm - read into that what you will, I don't trust the Vietnamese either. It was also very green.
For dinner we were escorted to a nearby hotel and laid on a spread...predominantly of fish products which Hayley, Laura, Sam and I all hate. I got by on prawns which no-one else touched. Our dinner's entertainment was the surrounding tables of Vietnamese doing a little song before a
The junker problem
That's ours right at the front. shot (the song translated imaginatively as "1-2-3-shot"). Each table competed to be louder until my ears exploded and bled out into the fish head soup.
Monday, 23rd August My ears stopped bleeding long enough for me to get some sleep prior to our 6.30am arising. Such a start is way rarer (say that 5 times quickly) in Asia than South America, partly because of geography, and NOT WELCOME! What is also not welcome - shrimp porridge, chicken rice and noodle soup for breakfast. A morning vomit is not good preparation for the day's activities ahead.
We took a shortish bus ride to the centre of the island to Cat Ba's National Park. The itinerary told us of a 2.5 hour walk up the hills of the park which we looked forward to having not really got to do much of this stuff since Argentina. The Spanish couple on the tour kicked off because the wife recently had a broken leg and was limping just getting off the bus. Cue an argument where the two parties had no clue what the other was saying. I tried to help with my faux understanding of Spanish but was in way over
my head. Literally all I did was speak with an English accent. To be fair, Cuong was a fr*gg*n idiot - absolutely useless to any flexibility.
Cuong didn't come on the walk, a toothless old lady did. She insisted on carrying our water despite being older than the group's combined age and did the trek in flip flops. A trek up an almost vertical mountain just hours after rainy season's latest up-chuck. The woman was like Spiderman (not Toby Maguire). Up over tree roots and rocks covered in mud in suffocating heat, and she never took a swig of water. She also laughed every time we did - she didn't speak a word of the Queen's.
The top of the mountain took what little breath was just about getting into our lungs away. Classic Jurassic Park/Lost greenery atop tens of mountainsides. Atop this particular mountain however was a crazy metal structure; 5 storeys high and just looking at it could give you tetanus. We went straight up. Why not try and improve on a view that is virtually perfect? The decision seemed regrettable not in the face of the creaking and shaking but the developing clouds and rapidly
Cat Ba Island
From the top of the lightning rod loudening thunderclaps. Any lightning and we are just about on the biggest conductor in Vietnam.
"Lain! Lain! Lain!" the woman is waving at us. Time to go. And quick. Rain hits here in seconds not minutes and it is way more difficult to get down a slide with nothing to hold onto than up it.
We were down the mountain and under the tarpaulin as the clouds burst. Several other groups were not. As we managed to get up and down the mountain in half the alloted time we had a 2 hour wait for the others. Again Cuong was fr*gg*n' usless. How hard is it to get us a bus back? Total period for the Spaniards now stood at well over 3 hours. Eventually the useless t*t got us back to yesterdays dinner hall for fishcakes made of the Ebola virus. Writing my diary now is making my gag reflex quiver.
We managed to get a quick swim at an emptier bay today before yet another bus back to the other side of the island as it poured yet again. As we waited for it we caught an interesting show of a woman gutting and bleeding
dry a lizard in the street before putting into a pickling har. These were all over Hanoi too, haven't worked out if they are food or decoration yet.
Back onto the junker we slowly sailed (is it sailing without a sail?) to the Floating Fishing Village as seen on Top Gear. For those interested here's what we found out about this fairly unique society -........................... Can't beat a good tour guide. Tips will be greatly received...at the bar we will spend them at instead. Guideless we got into a kayak and explored the village - where people never set foot on dry land in their entire life - and the surrounding islands and their little caves minding not to be split in two by the endless supply of junkers to the area.
Hayley convinced me that there was a monkey on one of the islands. Amazing swimming monkeys. Stupid Hayley. Stupider Bully.
Tonight we slept on the boat, slept being the operative word. After watching the best electrical storm I have ever seen we hit the hay to a very windy night.
Tuesday, 24th August Instead of the 7.30am wake up call we were expecting we
The cave boob
Give it a lick awoke at 6am to the sound of the junker's motor running. Then a bang on the door, there will be no lie-in this morning. The TV in the dining area has the weather on, lots of bright colours darting towards Northern Vietnam.
There is a typhoon coming. Ho. Ly. Sh*t.
It's hard to know whether to be too worried. Certainly I am on edge at the amusement of our new Kiwi buddies and the wind is really kicking up but these guys are always well ahead of the weather. We picked up a load of passengers for the journey unlike us without the luxury of seeing out their full trip. And of course they complained about it. At length. Should have left them in the storm. A thirty quid trip ruined. Devastating. D*cks.
All tours were cancelled, government orders. On the news 137 fishermen were missing. No tourists. Good work tour guides.
We caught the bus back. Now to the laws of driving in Vietnam. Ridiculous overtaking IS expected and beeping somewhat of a national anthem to drive to. We took the raised back seats; the best view in the house of the lorry we missed
by centimetres on his side of the road and the moped we almost drove straight through. Our view was not so good of the truck upside down in a ditch being craned out. The driver had at least a beer for lunch, probably more. Made the trip home more enjoyable. He actually had to stop for a p*ss half-way through. Which he did on the middle of a bridge.
If we get back to England you owe us a drink.
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