Andrea and I got picked up to go to Halong Bay ... via the obligatory craft shop on the way, selling carved wooden tigers, dragons made from bone and hideous embroidered scenes of everyday life in Vietnam. We continued on the road passing graveyards floating on islands amongst paddy fields.
The port itself was shrouded in mist. We climbed aboard our boat onto the top deck where we sat shivering and watching the grey islands gradually form, other boats appearing and disappearing to the front and side of us. Finally we came to an island where the modestly named "Surprising and Fantastic Cave" lay. It wasn´t bad ... though the half English explanations from the guide were painfully hard work to decipher.
Despite the gloom, the islands were quite impressive. Little beaches appeared here and there, caves leading to hidden bays, and natural bridges leading from one island to another. Hamlets full of floating houses were sprinkled amongst the islands, sitting amongst thousands of floating balls (tried to convince Andrea that they were tents for ducks ... not for pearl growing after all! Almost!)
On to Cat Ba Island, the largest island in the area. A dark, wet, cold cross between a quarry and half finished seaside resort. All in all quite a shitty place. A fleet of mopeds took us through the night back to the boat, whereupon Andrea decided to do a fantastic bit of gymnastic that finished off with her almost dragging one of the crew with her between the pier and the boat.
To bed on the boat to spend a creeky night below the deck. Got up in the middle of the night an paddled along the damp side-of-the-boat-shelf-thingy towards the smallest room. The mountains were silhouetted against the dull glowing sky, the water perfectly calm and a ghostly boat sitting somewhere off in the distance. (Of course ... somewhere in the world someone, still undergoing therapy, is writing about there experiences at Halong Bay - "... and there in the distance, a stick like figure appeared in the mist, falling from a hole on the deck dressed in a fleece jumper, cold hands thrust down his y-fronts, slipping and sliding his way along the boat ... and then I lost the power of sight ...")
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