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Published: March 11th 2007
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If there is one place both visitors and locals will tell you to go to in Vietnam it's Ha Long Bay. Over 3000 limestone and dolomite islets rise out of the of the tropical green waters on the Gulf of Tonkin. For about $60USD you can charter yourself a boat complete with three meals a day, a tour guide, a kayak for exploring, and sleeping quarters for the night. If you want to travel cheaply, you can join a tour for as little as $30(for two days). You can spends days exploring the deep grottoes and caves of the karsts, stalagmites hanging densely from inside their dark interiors. During the warm summer months, you can hang out on remote white sandy beaches, pet the Island monkeys or take diving leaps off the junks sails that cruise the 1500 square mile bay.
The big question for most travelers is how to get to Ha Long Bay...to join a tour or not to join a tour. And after our unfortunate experience in Chang Mai, we decided it would be much better if we went out on our own. A decision we came to regret.
The overnight train from Sapa came to
a screeching halt in Hanoi at 4:45am, plenty of time for Mark and I to catch the 6:10 departure to Haiphong departing from a station on the other side of town. We jumped into a taxi and half-way there we noticed the meter running at an exorbitantly high rate. We forget to ask how much before we stepped into the taxi, a critical decision most newcomers to Vietnam quickly learn. As our guidebook warned, extorting money from foreigners is a national sport in Vietnam. Americans might call it extortion, but the Vietnamese call it bargaining. Mark and I have our own meanings....he calls it the war tax and I call it foreign aid. Every foreigner you meet along the way has a story about getting schooled by some crafty local. But like us all, they are just trying to make a living.
But on this particular morning, Mark and I were too tired and cold to remember. We kept asking the taxi driver how much; he wouldn't answer. We pulled up into a busy intersection on the north side of town. "Eight dollars," he said. "No way. That's more than the states, " we shouted. After a few minutes
of heated haggling, we gave him five dollars and walked away. It was dark, motorbikes were cruising fast around us and the local market was setting up for the day. The cold was starting to settle into our bones and worsen the flu we picked up in Sapa. But we found the station, it was still dark inside. After 20 minutes, a light came on. We ordered our tickets. In broken English she said, "wrong station." What? But the guidebook said so! A guidebook we have learned is more than outdated, it's useless.
It's 5:30am. We still have time to make it to the other station. So we head back to the main intersection. The complete chaos of motorbikes, buses and taxis swarming in every direction. We hail a taxi, set the price and head out. We get to the main station at 5:50am. Immediately we are greeted by the locals. "You go to Haiphong? Wrong station." Is this a joke? Is that possible? We just spent $8 to end up exactly in the same place? "We can get you there by motorbike." The next few minutes are a blur. In the chaos of the moment, the swirl of
lights, the exhaustion of the train, taxis and cold, we were each on the back of a motorbike. The three golden rules of traveling safely in any country: Don't ride on a motorcycle, don't ride a crowded public bus, and never travel at night. And here we were, breaking two out of the three (parents and authority figures, please skip the next paragraph).
Mist was hitting me in the face. My glasses were foggy, so I couldn't see the moves of the driver as he weaved in and out of traffic. Dawn was just beginning to show its face. All I remember was shouting, "Slow! Slow!" I passed Mark on the bike next to me; his face contorted by fear, panic and slight exhilaration. What was supposed to be two kilometers seemed more like ten, and the next thing I know we were there. It's 6:05am. The motorbike driver takes my hand and drags me to the ticket counter. I'm looking for Mark and pulling out what I have left of the local currency. Mark falls in line behind me. And then both drivers ask for money. In the heat of the moment, we forget to set the price.
There goes another $8, but at least we made the train.
It was 6:10am, and it was only the beginning of our adventure to Ha Long Bay. If you would like to hear the rest of the story, we would love to tell you over a beer someday. It involves another frantic motorbike ride, a few more meetings with some crafty local talkers and a day end tally of about $50...three times the amount we would have paid on a tour. Not to mention, the fever I came down with later that night.
But we survived, and it was well worth the majestic views of Ha Long Bay on the boat the next day. Plus, we'll be talking about those motorbike rides for years to come.
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majken
non-member comment
what an adventure you are having! glad you made it out of the motorbike chaos safe and sound. xo