October 11

Halong Bay: Getting My Sea Legs

Today began with the traditional Vietnamese breakfast – pho – a noodle soup with beef and vegetables.  Pho is advertised everywhere and, while available for breakfast, is also eaten throughout the day.  Streetcorners also offer loaves of French bread and there are other signs of the long French occupation throughout Vietnam, including the architecture.

I was met at the hotel by my guide for the next few days, Duc, and the driver who would take us to Halong Bay, about 100 miles east of Hanoi.  Going this distance, given the roads and traffic, took about 4 hours, interrupted only by a stop at one of many handicraft centers.  This one featured a large room full of women, and some men, weaving paintings of local scenes with brightly colored threat.  Most were deaf and mute while others were disabled; money from sales goes to the facilities where they live.  Out back, men with power tools were carving limestone and other rocks into enormous sculptures depicting lions, wildlife, the Buddha and human figures of various sorts.  A surprising number of tourists buy these and have these shipped back to their homes for $200-300. 

After the long ride, we finally arrived at Halong Bay and transferred to our home for the next two days, the junk Phoenix, one of several hundred junks that ply the waters of this UN World Heritage site – perhaps the leading attraction in Vietnam.  Why even Mark Zuckerberg was here on his honeymoon.  After lunch on board, the Phoenix threaded its way in calm waters through some of the thousands of floating green islands that comprise this beautiful land and seascape.  Our junk (which is motorized; some have decorative sails) has about 22 rooms, each with separate bath and shower.

The afternoon’s sail brought us to a cove surrounded by steep small islands and populated by no less than 33 other junks that, like us, would berth at anchor overnight in the still waters prevalent here. 

From there, we transferred to a smaller launch to visit nearby caves that extend far into one of the larger islands.  The caves were successively larger with hanging formations like wax drippings.  Striking and slightly terrifiying, the caves were like an eerie horror film set, although our tour guide diverted us with attempts to see animals and faces in the rock.  One said to be like a turtle was worn smooth by the hands of passing visitors hoping to get luck.  Those who sought to emulate the turtle’s long life left money.  Duc told me that a turtle in the lake in Hanoi was 500 years old, dating to the time that the Vietnamese defeated the Chinese that then held it as a province.

After a quick change on the boat, we headed off to another island to hike up its steep hills to an outlook and followed by a swim.  The 360 degree views from the top were fine indeed, even with the humid haze that sheltered many islands from view.  The water was bathtub warm but still refreshing after the hike up to the top.  No, that's not a grimace.

Halong Bay draws visitors from all over the worId.  I sat at dinner with a couple from Canberra, Australia, another from Manila and another New Yorker, who (like the Zuckerbergs!) were on their honeymoon.  The food was terrific, from pumpkin soup to salads to a variety of fish dishes.  The two honeymooning couples on board were the excuse to enjoy heart-shaped chocolate cake.

Happily, throughout all of this I was spared the seasickness that has plagued on many earlier efforts on water – including a day sail up the Sir Francis Drake Channel in the Caribbean that was meant to be romantic and wound up with me hanging over the side.  My sons are lucky to have been born given that episode.

The next day began with pho, of course, along with the dark, chocolaty coffee that seems prevalent here.  After a transfer to a smaller boat for the day, Duc and I headed off in our kayak’s for some touring; we went through caves filled with bats and luscious green coves where the blue water was often punctuated by schools of tiny jumping fish that flashed over the water in silver arcs.  Although I had kayaked before, it was never in such lush surroundings.  The equipment was not great, unfortunately, and the backless seating put a lot of strain on my core and legs to sit upright while paddling.  Stopping at a beautiful secluded beach, I was able to enjoy swimming in the warm clear waters and eventually got cajoled into the sport of jumping over the top of the boat.

After a short lunch on the boat and some maneuvering to a new location, we took off again, this time to visit a nearby floating village, where nearly 500 people live entirely on the water, fishing the waters for a wide array of fish, crabs, clams and oysters.  A high point was our stop at the local school, where the four classrooms sat calmly on the still waters.  The students were doing what all kids do at school, alternating between the usual class routines of reading to the class at the front of the room to fooling around during free time.  Ho Chi Minh’s portrait sat at the top of the blackboards; he remains a revered figure here, even as this country has changed to a far more open and commercial place than he might have contemplated.

Later we also stopped at oyster farms where they cultivate pearls and have a small factory (and, of course, a factory store!) where we were taken through the entire fascinating process. 

A few more shots of Halong, from a concrete boat where men fabricated metal items to a very young seaman in training to the glorious sunsets that were still fabulous even in the haze.

At dinner, I enjoyed talking with a honeymooning couple from San Sebastian, Spain, the principal city of the Basque country.  Like most Spaniards, they are worried about the persistent economic problems their country faces, including unemployment over 22%.  Two German women also sat with us; remarkably, they are embarking on two years in Hanoi teaching German as a second language (who knew!)  Happily for me, English is the common language today.

After another short kayak trip the next day, the junk returned to Halong Bay marina, where after a quick cooking class (spring rolls), we had a great lunch of our rolls, more fish and salad.  By noon, we were rolling back to Hanoi, stopping only for the obligatory tourist stand and to get a close-up view of the rice harvest that was underway on both sides of the road for much of the 100 mile route.  Rice remains the primary crop and form of sustenance in Vietnam.  The mechanization that has transformed agriculture in the West is largely absent here.  Farmers, mostly women, reap the rice with curved scythes, gathering them into bunches to be threshed.  This is often done at roadside, where the rice is then poured onto the highway surface to dry since there are few other flat dry places for the farmers to use.  Surprisingly little of the drying rice is disturbed by the passing traffic; once dry, the rice is put into repurposed plastic bags and taken to be processed into the white rice that is preferred here and is most of Asia. 

Vietnam has come far from the days when the entire country was at war.  It has a resilient people who are pragmatic but not the hard chargers I saw in Hong Kong.  Unlike China, where farmers are streaming into the cities, rural and coastal Vietnamese seem more rooted, although that may also reflect that there is less opportunity in the cities here.  Most are quite poor but also seem fairly content, with families staying close and continuing on as they have for generations.

Back in Hanoi, I reorganized my bags for the trip to the much cooler mountain regions and went to dinner at a highly popular restaurant, where I was seated with a Vietnamese family who graciously allowed me to sit with them in the crowded restaurant, which was in a large open courtyard, surrounded by numerous cooking stations for each of the various types of food offered.  Swarms of waiters ran from one station to another to place orders, collect prepared dishes and carry them off to waiting diners, shouting at cooks to be heard over the happy din of satisfied eaters.  As my bags were at the hotel waiting for transfer to the train station for my overnight train to Sapa, I grabbed a taxi thinking it would be faster than walking.  Wrong.  Saturday night in the Old Quarter of Hanoi is wall to wall couples on scooters, families out for the night and throngs of tourists.  And my driver got lost, making the ride to the train station after he finally found the hotel a white knuckle special.

I’ll be hiking for a few days so stay tuned.