Halong Bay

It’s 9.00pm in Cat Ba National Park, and I just out-drank the captain of our boat, who has been in the Vietnamese Army for 14 years.

In fairness, as Sim pointed out, he is responsible for the safety of the boat throughout the night, whereas I am not. He also offered to open another bottle of rice wine and we, perhaps foolishly (perhaps wisely – who can judge?), turned him down.

This morning, very early, we started from Hanoi to Haiphong, en route to Cat Ba island and our ultimate destination of Halong Bay. It was difficult to sleep en route, owing to the constant blaring of the car’s horn and the stress of the motorway traffic, but somehow I managed it. Sim afterwards told me he had noticed signs along the way advertising dog and cat meat.

We’re on an eco-friendly junk which departs from Cat Ba, as distinct from the usual tourist embarkation point of Halong City. Our boat has permission, by virtue of its eco-friendly status, to drop anchor in harbours in the national park that aren’t usually available to commercial boats. As a result, we’re currently moored for the night in a calm bay, with giant mountains rearing out of the sea around us, without another human being in sight, not even a fishing boat. The noise of my fingers tapping on the keyboard is deafening.

We have eaten excellently and well. Our captain’s wife has fed us easily the best Vietnamese food we have eaten on our trip, including outstanding fresh rice paper rolls, fresh clams, steamed fish and what Sim assures me were amazing grilled prawns (I was very considerately fed stuffed tofu in the alternative). For dessert we had the traditional fresh fruit, and along the way taught our tour guide the word “mandarin” (which confused him momentarily as the name of a Chinese language).

This afternoon, for fun, we went kayaking through the area’s caves and lagoons. For my money, “fun” seems a lot like “being cold and wet in a dark place full of bats”, but Sim seemed to enjoy it. Our guide, Hang, who in my mind I call “Han Solo”, beat the two of us effortlessly when it came to kayaking. (He was a lightweight when it came to the rice wine, so I consider us even.)

Most of our day has been spent relaxing in the deck chairs, reading and watching the spectacular scenery change around us. For the most part, Hang leaves us to ourselves, only interrupting (apologetically) every now and then to let us know our schedule for the afternoon or point out some feature of the rocks or wildlife around us.

From time to time, we pass a fishing boat or a floating village. Hang explained that the people go into port when they need fresh water, but otherwise survive on what the supply boats bring them. He was at pains to assure us that the dogs, which we see constantly on the fishing boats, are their pets, “friends”.

After dinner tonight, the captain of our boat, shyly accompanied by Hang, came into the dining room with a tray full of glasses of rice wine and asked us if we would join him. Through Hang, he talked about his time in the Army, and about the American war, and asked us questions about Sydney. We tried to explain that, apart from the American war, enlistment in the Australian Army was voluntary; that our soldiers were forced to fight against Vietnam; that most of our neighbours, restauranteurs and local businesspersons were Vietnamese; and that everyone in Sydney loved Vietnamese food and was learning more about Vietnam and Vietnamese people. His wife, in a fresh shirt, hesitantly came from the washing-up to join us; we tried to mime how much we had enjoyed her cooking, and told Hang she should come to Sydney and open a restaurant.

For his part, Hang confessed that he was so skinny that even the Vietnamese Army rejected him, but that he had learned to fire a gun and throw grenades anyway. We explained that we weren’t required to join the Australian Army, and I tried to describe what the Army Reserve was so I could tell him that my father was part of it (though I’m not sure I quite got there). He didn’t seem to understand the idea of volunteering for the army, and we explained that sometimes people chose to join the Army because, for example, it would pay for their education. I said that my father liked to learn about military history and would love to have an opportunity to talk to the captain, who in addition to living through the American war had been in the Army for the wars against China and Cambodia.

We’ve been left alone now and it seems the boat is asleep. Most of the reviews of Halong Bay talk about the tourist boats being moored side by side for the night; for our part, the only sound is the water lapping against the side of the boat, and the creaking of the rigging. Apart from the crew, we’re the only people on board, and my hat goes off to Sim for booking this leg of the trip. In the darkness I can only dimly see the outlines of the massive shapes of the islands around us, which won’t be visible again until the boat wakes up in the morning.