The World is Quiet

“Later, you can try catching squid.” Said our guide to us casually after dinner. I’d always imagined you’d use a net for catching squid, but the the boat we were only only had special fishing rods, with squid hooks on the end and no reel, as well as long butterfly nets, which we mostly used to try and fence off some of the bolder squid that had been attracted to the bright boat light. You could see them under the water, florescent bodies glinting slightly under the light in the murky shallow water. We didn’t use a bait, the main technique seemed to be to wiggle the rod in a way that imitated  the sway of a tasty unsuspecting morsel, or perhaps the dance of a sexy squid of the opposite gender. We made for bad squid fishermen, after trying for an hour we caught zero squid. Our guide, perhaps out of frustration or even pity showed us how, he caught one in five minutes.

We’d spent the day traveling from our hostel in Hanoi. I was accompanied by an American friend who was living in Vietnam for a few months visiting family. The trip to  Hanoi and Halong Bay was her idea, although I needed little persuading. It was her first time to the north of the country. Her father, who in the 70’s had fled Vietnam for America at the end of the war, and who had only recently returned, was somewhat anxious about her going to the ‘communist’ north. He called every day to check how she was. The ‘feel’ of Hanoi compared to the south wasn’t immediately obvious, apart from the colonial buildings, largely reclaimed by vines and Vietnamese businesses of indeterminable nature, and the quieter, narrower streets. Hanoi also bared more obvious signs of its governments ideology, there were a few propaganda posters littered around, seemingly relics from the sixties in style.

The main entrance to the city from the airport, Nhat Tan bridge is an impressive and towering concrete structure that crosses the Red River, and it far eclipses in size anything beyond it. Although large, Hanoi is no metropolis like Ho Chi Minh City, the streets are welcomingly quieter in comparison, even if the city does bustle with pedestrians and the odd scooter. The Old Quarter, the main backpacker/tourist/culture hub of the city feels half reclaimed, thick vines cover the old French architecture, and new shopfronts, cafes and verandas had been carved out of almost every available space, some which spill out onto the streets. The pavement is narrow, you’ll find yourself stepping around locals squatting down, enjoying a meal, piles of trash left in the sun for collection and chunks of detritus abandoned between the unkept pavement cracks. There will be empty spaces that seem to serve no other purpose than to be a place for locals to hang out. If you look above you you’ll see balconies covered in greenery, eyes will peer down at you as they enjoy a beer or iced drink. Men with their shirts pulled up to their nipples, waiting by a pot of pho cooking, or market sellers carrying stock between locations.

Hanoi has been justifiably reclaimed from it’s colonial history by the Vietnamese. The Old Quarter does feel like Paris, it doesn’t take much of a look to see how the layers of reclamation can be peeled back to reveal the city’s past. However the plaster facade has been long cracked and transformed into something bright, teeming and most importantly, visibly alive.

The plan was to spend an evening in Hanoi enjoying the sights and the feel of the city, and then spend two days aboard a guided boat tour in Halong Bay. However the first night was almost a total disaster, with out flight back to Ho Chi Minh City delayed by no less than two whole days (my third strike from Jetstar, never again). My friend, an Vietnamese-American was eventually able to find us new flights back, but it took us a few hours and basically meant we were unable to spend much time enjoying the evening of our only night in Hanoi, we had tickets for the water puppet show, widely recommended, but unfortunately we couldn’t attend. The theatre however, with it’s deep red front, looked fantastic, I was able to poke my head around the door to the stage area, where the still bath waited in front of tight-looking stone seats. After sorting out some replacement flights we did eventually find ourselves mulling around the night streets, still warm in the early autumn. We tried a few bars, most with balconies that overlooked busy street corners, and a small modern boardgames bar. With the setting of the sun Hanoi doesn’t loose any of it’s sense of pace, but the city was suddenly illuminated by trails of lights from businesses, store fronts and the rare street lamp. Watching from the balcony of a bar drinking Hanoi brew we watched the tourists mingle with the store owners, as well as the backpackers and the small bro-gangs beginning their nights early. The locals seemingly indifferent to them all. The night begins early as there is a midnight curfew in Hanoi, but some bars remain open behind shutters, safe from police eyes, but even in the worst case a bribe or two goes a long way to keeping the party going.

The company who had organised the trip (Vega Travel) picked us up from our hotel in the morning, we were shuffled onto an air-conditioned bus for the four hour drive to Halong. We followed the trail of bikes out onto quieter streets. The drive was surprisingly pleasant, our guide once again happily mentioned that if there was anything we wanted to take a photograph of we’d only need to ask and the bust would slow down to let us. Leaving the city and heading out into the Vietnamese country side we saw farmers moving ox from field to field, the odd motorcycle carrying caged chickens, even a large Foxconn factory which we took a snap of on our iPhones.

The bay is beautiful even before you step onto the boat. Driving along the coast the water looked calm, reflecting the blue sky. Since we were doing an overnight trip we actually started from a neighbouring bay. We had activities planned, kayaking and cave exploring, although I think what we were looking forward to most was simply seeing the islands themselves. We’d be given two evening meals aboard the boat. Cooked by the onboard chef. The wooden barge was far more luxurious than I’d imagined, I’d expected some kind of metal behemoth, engines chugging away all night fighting the ocean waves, but there was none of that. The cabins were surprisingly roomy with ensuite showers and cosy enough beds. I asked my companion if she’d managed to snag some deal or something on the rooms, but simply turned out a little bit of money goes a long away in Vietnam.

Our first stop was to a mountain cave, a popular tourist sight that was ticketed. The guide had arranged everything before hand, all we’d to do was precariously step off the boat and follow the tour up through the limestone caves. The islands of Halong Bay are all uniform in their basic design, tall white-grey rock topped with a jungle hair. We were told the story of Halong Bay, the old legend of a dragon and her children descending form heaven to protect Vietnam from Chinese invaders, creating the islands and eventually nesting there, sleeping now somewhere under the sea. Keen eyes can spot birds nesting and even monkeys sitting in the high trees. Later in the day when we went kayaking into the centre of one of the islands we saw a family of monkeys in the trees, watching us almost as intently as we watched them. Our guide mentioned that if we saw any snakes swimming in the water we should alert him, so he could trying catch it and make it part of our dinner that night.

Dinner was eloquently prepared, albeit snake-free, a series of dishes, seafood, vegetable, even a chicken course, brightly coloured and better dished than they’d any right to be. There was too much to eat, but guilt and my old student instincts allowed me to finish most of it. Dessert was provided, a mango pudding that seemed to have been actually prepared by hand, as apposed to bought bulk from a catering service. Vietnamese food is as fresh and as delicious as you’ve probably heard. Having a bowl of fresh herbs on the table (as is customary in southern Vietnam) for seasoning your pho, thit kho or any other meal is ingenious. There is something about picking off fresh mint leaves, rolling them between your fingers and adding them to your soup or sweet sauce that adds a real sense of fragrance and ceremony to your meal. The smell lingers on your  fingers in a pleasant way. Before dinner we were shown how to roll our own spring rolls, including dipping the translucent rice paper in water and filling it with rice noodles, pork slices, thinly-sliced vegetables, prawns and a mix of  fresh herbs before dipping in the tangy sauce, or sweet peanut butter. This wasn’t my first spring-roll rodeo however, my friend had actually shown me how to make these at a thanksgiving dinner the previous year. There is a certain art to getting the correct balance of ingredients and rolling your wrap, an object that when completed looks something like a stuffed condom, the ambitious may find their wrap doesn’t entirely close due to over-stuffing, whilst the conservative may find they end up with too much of the rice-paper wrap and not enough of everything else. Although the trial and error process does allow an excuse to eat as many spring rolls as you can.

The official story is that there are 1969 islands in Halong bay, coincidentally the same year as the year of Ho Chi Minh’s death, however in realty there are other two thousand individual limestone islands rising out of the sea, many of which are still in the process of been giving actual names, many now are referred to by nick-names originating from their shape or some kind of interesting feature. We passed fighting-cock island, a towering twin structure that does, from a certain angle, look like a beak erupting out of the water. In the morning after breakfast we were taken to a sightseeing spot, a long walk and a beach (Titop) with white sand and water warm enough to swim, but home to more than a few jellyfish waiting lazily in the water. I watched in horror as a Russian tourist emerged from the water seemingly unaware of the large red welts that covered his back, “it’s okay.” I overheard, “they have limes up in the cabin for the sting.” I stayed in the shallows.

In the afternoon of the second day aboard the boat we finally arrived in the middle of Halong Bay. A popular filming location, most recently Kong, Halong Bay does appear to be something prehistoric and otherworldly. Aside from the surprisingly small gathering of boats, there were no buildings to be seen, nothing to spoil the view, even the towns, barely visible along the shore shrank away under the giant limestone towers. I later found the government restricts the amount of tour boats allowed in the bay at one time, and the bay seems to benefit from this, the water was surprisingly clean, a jade green and seemingly free from ship debris and litter. We weaved in and out of the towers, watching smaller boats sit upon the waves. Our group shared a quiet few hours simply watching the islands rise and fade from view around us as the boat carried us back to the mainland, where the packed cities awaited. With the islands drawing away behind us I realised that true silence was something I missed, even if its best enjoyed for brief moments.

Tour Provided by Vega Travel (120USD per person including transport, four meals, overnight accommodation, cave tour, cooking class, kayaking and guaranteed small group size).

24a Hang Bac – adjoining 106 Ma May St. Hanoi.

Tel: +844.39262092

www.vegatravel.vn        

September 2017