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Hanoi -- After spending three days in Hanoi, I didn't know just how badly I
needed Halong Bay until I got there.
Hanoi is many, many things -- magical, enchanting, vibrant, mysterious,
fascinating at every turn. It's also likely to drive you insane.
If the relentless buzzing of the motor scooters doesn't get you --
imagine the start of the Boston Marathon, only everyone's on a motorbike --
the unyielding attempts to separate you from your wallet, through means
legal and otherwise, will. Scooter ride? Marijuana? Scooter ride? Woman?
Scooter ride? Pineapple? Scooter ride?
I needed peace. I needed quiet. I needed to be able to walk 5 feet
without being hassled. I needed Halong Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage site of
more than a thousand islands located about 100 miles southeast of Hanoi in
the Gulf of Tonkin. (If anything represents the changing face of Vietnam,
this may be it: Gulf of Tonkin, tourist destination).
Organizing a tour of Halong Bay from Hanoi's old quarter is about as
difficult as finding a burrito in the Mission. Twenty-six dollars
(Vietnamese currency accepted, American currency preferred) got me two days
and one night on a boat, meals included (as a caveat, other people on the
exact same tour paid as much as $42 -- a bargain and a rip-off at the same
time).
The trip from Hanoi to Halong City takes about three hours, including a
half-hour at the obligatory "rest stop" where you can buy Vietnamese
clothing, artwork and trinkets and, of course, Pringles.
 The
port in Halong City was filled with tourist boats -- two-story vessels, with
small but pleasantly clean cabins below and a dining area on the main level.
After some confusion about which people were supposed to go on which boat, a
French couple and I were handed off to another tour group. There were 10
people on our cruise, and we instantly headed to the roof deck and grabbed
chairs.
After about a half-hour at sea, the boat stopped, and we were called
downstairs for lunch. Vietnam is a maddeningly unpredictable place, but
there is one thing you can count on -- the food is almost always excellent,
no matter where you are. We scarfed down some miniature spring rolls,
sauteed vegetables, fish and chicken, and rice. Drinks were extra, but at
less than a dollar for a can of Tiger beer (the Corona of Southeast Asia),
there wasn't much to complain about.
The plates were cleared, we returned to the deck, and the boat resumed
motoring out to sea. Through the haze, in the middle of nowhere, we could
see what appeared to be huge rock formations jutting out of the sea.
Hey, those are huge rock formations jutting out of the sea.
Or, if you prefer, really small islands. Either way, it was strange and
mysterious, in the best possible way. By any standard, the islands --
ranging from what appear to be really big rocks to Gilligan's Island-sized
outposts -- are among the coolest things you'll ever see. Coming from the
never-ending cacophony of Hanoi, this felt like another planet.
The islands' appeal was enhanced by its unexpectedness (I had practically
no idea what to expect), so the fact that I was getting buzzed by scooters
on Hanoi's tiny streets that morning only made the trip sweeter. Slowly
moving through the giant formations was soothing, and undoubtedly a
healthier way to decompress than a fistful of Valium.
The islands are mostly uninhabited, but that doesn't mean there's no one
living out there. As we turned the corner of one island, we saw the first of
many houseboats (inhabitants seem to rely on something other than the fruits
of the sea; our ship's cook bought fish for our dinner from a woman in a
small boat that pulled up next to hours, but we also had the opportunity to
buy Marlboros, Cokes and the ubiquitous Pringles).
After another hour or so of cruising, we pulled in at a dock and climbed
the steps to a gigantic cave. The jagged rocks that look like they're
hanging upside down are worth a look, and we had a fine time roaming around
the spacious chambers. The most memorable sight, however -- and there's no
polite way to say this, as reflected in the embarrassed look on the face of
our guide -- is the rock that bears an uncanny similarity to the male member
in a full state of arousal.
One of the best things about travel is that you find yourself in places
you never thought you'd be, doing things you never thought you'd do. Like,
for instance, sea kayaking. I was all set to blow it off, and I imagine the
Australian woman next to me was thinking the same thing. We watched a couple
of people get into the water, looked at each other, shrugged and plunged in.
To my surprise, it was a blast. We paddled past a couple of small islands
and then cruised through a narrow, tunnel-like space carved out in the rock
that led to an enclosed inlet.
Halong Bay is idyllic, but it's not a secret. That point was driven home
when we paddled back toward our boat -- or what we thought what was our
boat. Where there once was one ship, there were now five, and we paddled
around in a subdued panic until we finally found our home for the night.
Back on board, the bathroom in each cabin had a little device that
purported to be a shower. Even if you could figure out how to make the thing
work -- and no one could -- there was a better alternative. Just about
everyone on the boat dove into the bay's warm waters for a swim.
After dinner, folks began to filter downstairs to their rooms (hardly
luxurious, but if you can handle a European two-star, you'll be fine), while
the boat's crew relaxed by playing Vietnamese music videos. I climbed up to
the deck and passed a couple of hours under the stars as the anchored boat
slowly made 360s in the night.
Breakfast -- crepe-like pancakes and some strange-looking but tasty fruit
-- was served before we headed back. If there's one regret, it's that we
couldn't spend more time cruising around the islands. Instead, we took a
pretty direct route, passing the odd houseboat and family out fishing as we
went, and we were back at the port by 11.
Our guide then said he had arranged for our original tour group to pick
up the French couple and me at a restaurant, where he dumped us at a table,
spoke to a waiter, and then left. But no one came by, and we grew
increasingly agitated as we saw van after van head back toward Hanoi while
our own attempts to arrange a ride on our own met without success.
I hadn't even left Halong Bay, and I needed to go back.
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