Ho Chi Minh Haircut – 14 June 2008.

Just some of the wonderful flowers in the markets

Ho Chi Minh Haircut – 14 June 2008.

Deciding that I could no longer ignore the fact that I desperately needed a haircut I wandered up and down several roads that had a variety of ‘hot toc’ establishments trying to decipher the signs to decide where to go. There are a wide variety of businesses to choose from. In many places I have seen locals getting their haircut on the street. In front of a handy wall on which a mirror can be hung, the client sits on a rickety chair while the barber efficiently tackles the task while being jostled and observed by passers by. In Ho Chi Minh there are also very elaborate establishments dedicated to a whole range of beauty treatments including hair styling, pedicures, manicures, massage and makeup. Between these two extremes there are hundreds of little modest hairdressers and barber shops.

Somewhat daunted by the task of communicating my wishes without language I have been putting off the inevitable but several photographs confirmed that the need to do something about my unruly hair was becoming increasingly urgent so I braced myself and went in search of a likely place. Noticing my scrutiny of his sign an enthusiastic gentleman emerged from one of the little, unpretentious establishments and bustled me inside. Before I had time to hesitate I was seated in a chair with him poised over me with scissors at the ready. At this moment it suddenly dawned on me that I did not know if this was an establishment for women and men or only a men’s barber. One of my curious experiences in Viet Nam has been that I am sometimes mistaken for a man. As I walk past the taxi touts and hawkers regularly address me as “sir” when offering their services or wares which, although I have always been interested in the concept of androgyny, was disconcerting at first but it has given me an opportunity to reflect on the gendering of interactions. I am not sure whether it is my size or short hair that leads to this assumption. Almost every Vietnamese woman has long hair and they are very tiny, many are well under five feet tall and would be able to buy clothes in the children’s section of New Zealand stores.

I did hear a story that was an interesting reversal on the “they all look the same to me” theme. A woman who has done a lot of work here said that one time when she was accompanied by a group from New Zealand the Vietnamese could not work out who in the group was Maori and who was not. They declared that all New Zealander’s look the same!

Deciding that the risk of getting a crew cut was not the worst thing that I have faced (after all hair grows back again) I didn’t make an escape but I did emphatically try to indicate, by holding up pieces of my hair and making scissor motions with my fingers, that I only wanted to remove a centimeter or two rather than receive I number two. Waving away my concern the barber efficiently set to work and in no time at all I had a reasonably good, and very cheap, haircut. Having heard that your haircut is often followed by ear cleaning, which involves enthusiastic and deep probing of the ear canal I was poised ready to clamp my hands over my ears if anyone approached with a long instrument with a loop on the end but the only extra I received was a vigorous but pleasurable shoulder and neck massage. It was a great treatment for the tension I have built up while trying to learn, remember and reproduce the convoluted Vietnamese language.

There were three other clients in the hairdressers. One of these gentlemen was being subjected to the ear cleaning treatment while the other two were having their nits dealt with. I have got used to seeing this frequently in parks. Using either tweezers, combs of just their fingers nits are painstakingly extracted by a companion. I do not know if this is because the nits are resistant to chemical treatments or because these are too expensive. I certainly hope that I do not have the need to find out more.

Blog Update 8th June 2008

Just a note to let you know that I have gone back and added more photos to the Halong Bay blog and text for the First Swim one. My apologies that the photos are all mixed up and there are no captions. For some reason I am not able to see the photos in the edit mode at the moment. Thanks to everyone who is still reading and for the encoouraging emails. It is great for me to be able to share some of my experiences and impressions. Robyn

Ho Chi Minh City – My First Week. June 8, 2008

Ho Chi Minh City – My First Week. June 8, 2008

During the week, before and after language classes I have had the opportunity to get to know quite a bit of central Ho Chi Minh as I make my way to and from the hotel. It is possible to take many different routes and there is always something interesting to see whichever way I go. I can now make my way through most of this area without using a map which is much more relaxing than when I have to refer to one for every step of the way.

On a couple of occasions I have taken a xe om (motor-bike taxi). This is much less stressful than my Hanoi experiences because there is a driver who other VSA volunteers have used before. He speaks very good English and charges a standard rate for each trip. He is a real character who proud, of his city, is happy to share his knowledge as we make our way through the streets. Traveling with him is an adventure – he is committed to getting me there on time and if this necessitates shortcuts such as using the footpath when there is a long line of traffic, he is happy to do so.

I am getting into the rhythm of the city and find crossing the road much easier most of the time now but there are still some roads where I have to take a big breath and steel myself for the ordeal of getting across. I still get a sense of achievement as I successfully get to the other side. I have also noticed that as my confidence grows that I am somewhat less of a target for the hawkers. They have a radar for identifying the bewildered new tourists and make a beeline for them in the crowd.

There are shops of all types here. A myriad of tiny family businesses, markets and exclusive shopping complexes cater for all types of shoppers but I have not taken much more than a cursory interest in most. There are certainly great bargains if you have the money and the inclination to spend. My only purchases to date have been bootleg CDs. Wicked I know but I have bought about twenty music CDs for eighty cents each. My weak excuse is that I am poor and desperate for some different music!

I thought that I was becoming pretty courageous about the local wildlife. Rats running in front of me hardly make an impression now. The other day when, as I sat eating banh xeo (a delicious pork and prawn pancake), in the Ben Thanh market a cockroach walked across the table beside me, I just moved my bag of bananas out of its way and casually kept on eating but tonight when I was having dinner in a French restaurant a big flying cockroach (who knew they could fly!!) landed on my neck and I was not anywhere near as cool – I can still feel it crawling there.

I am achieving my goal of becoming more familiar with the food and have tried out all sorts of establishments this week with some pleasant surprises and some disagreeable ones. There is an incredible number of eating places here. Within minutes of our hotel it is possible to eat many different types of food. I am enjoying have much more choice than in Quy Nhon, and as an undomesticated sort, it is great not having to cook at all, but I will be glad to go back and be able to prepare simple things at home. I have bought a recipe book of simple Vietnamese food so hopefully I will be able to prepare something edible by the time I have my first visitors.

The Vietnamese take a lot of interest in food. Most women buy fresh ingredients daily from the street markets and spend quite a bit of time preparing meals. Parents seem to be quite obsessed with getting their children to eat. Often on the street I see toddlers riding around on their little plastic bikes while their mothers or grandmothers follow behind enticing them to eat from a bowl of food. Almost all of the adults are tiny in stature and very thin but I have noticed that there are quite a few significantly overweight young children. There are many advertisements claiming nutritional values for manufactured foods. Interestingly these advertisements portray images of children who would be considered quite chubby at home – I suspect that the coming generation will experience weight problems that have not been a feature here before. It also found it interesting that in one of the supermarkets I visited every can of baby formula had a security tag on it; they were clearly considered a target for theft.

I have mixed impressions of the way children are treated here. On one hand I see that many children are clearly valued and loved with families, including very young children, socializing pleasurably together until late in the evening. In contrast with this I also see many children in shops and restaurants who appear to be ignored for long periods while the adults are busy making a living. The movements and activities of some of these children seem to be severely restricted.

When I was sitting in a park the other day I watched a little child who was clearly lost. Increasingly distressed he was walking about and calling for someone. The park was full of people including parents, grandparents and police, but no one took the slightest interest in this upset child. I felt that because I was a strange foreigner, unable to communicate with him, that I would distress him further if I approached him. I did not know what to do and indecisively watched him for some time, thinking that at least I could intervene if it looked like a stranger was trying to take advantage of the situation. Eventually he was happily reunited with an older girl who looked like a big sister. I still do not know why none of the locals responded to this child and I feel bad about my inaction but I am not sure what I should do if a similar situation arises in the future.

On a lighter note on the subject of children – who was the idiot who invented squeaky shoes for kids? Everywhere I go there are little ones running around in shoes designed to make an irritating squeak with every step. The inventor should be locked up and tortured with the sound of a thousand squeaking rats!

Women who are admirers of men in uniforms would be very happy here – provided that their taste is for little officious men in ill-fitting uniforms. They are everywhere. One group is the tourist security men. Apparently one of their jobs is to help people cross the streets but they seem to spend most of their time sitting around in groups smoking, only stirring themselves into action when a particularly attractive young woman in skimpy clothes requires their assistance. I did have a good chuckle to myself the other day when I watched about 30 of them on a morning drill. With their arms swinging from side to side in time with loud, jaunty music they marched in formation up and down the park. Perhaps it is good for their morale or perhaps it is the only bit of exercise they get in a day.

Whole contingents of men are employed as security guards outside official buildings, banks and businesses. In Hanoi the streets were littered with funny little velvet roped podiums for the guards to stand on but these are less apparent here. The guards outside the American embassy are particularly officious. With intimidating rifles slung over their shoulders they punctiliously enforce the no loitering rules. Anyone pausing for a moment, including aged grandmothers and young children, is treated as a security threat and is unceremoniously ordered to move on. Every day a mass of people stand on the opposite side of the road waiting to be allowed to enter the hallowed American soil (I presume that they are mostly applying for a visa).

Ho Chi Minh is not a beautiful city but there are some lovely tree lined streets and parks. The tall tamarind trees are particularly attractive. One of the parks I enjoy walking through has numerous statues some of which are very contemporary. Many of the parks feature bonsai trees and topiary in fantastic and amusing figures. I enjoy watching the many activities, including badminton, group exercises, martial arts and a type of hacky-sack game using a toy like a weighted shuttle cock, that take place in the parks. The other day I went to the botanical gardens which turned out to include the zoo. The Lonely Planet warns that this is not a pleasant place to visit but I foolishly ignored this advice. At first I thought that it was not too bad. There were lots of trees and some of the cages seemed fairly spacious but when I got to the primates, elephants and large cats I could see why a visit there is ill-advised. One of the chained elephants was clearly deranged from boredom and maltreatment. I was amazed to witness people taunting the animals under the indifferent gaze of the zoo keepers. I hurriedly left and would certainly counsel others to never go there.

Yesterday there was an incredible storm. For about an hour torrential rain was accompanied by lightening and almost continuous booming thunderclaps. The thunder was so loud that, even as a person who loves thunderstorms, I was shaken by the ferocity of it. The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun but I was very glad of my ugly croc shoes and pants that could be fasted above my knees as I waded home.

Today I went to Cholon, the Chinatown district. I did not spend long in the hot, crowed market but I really enjoyed visiting several Buddhist pagodas. At first I lurked around the gate, uncertain about whether or not to enter but I was welcomed inside and even given an indication that it was fine to take photographs. The pagodas were very ornate inside and out. Elaborate gold statues were surrounded with decorations and offerings. The air was thick with the smoke from hanging coils and sticks of incense. Many people, including a significant number of teenagers, were engaged in earnest prayer. In several places I saw fireplaces where people burnt paper replicas of objects such as money, food, clothes, motorbikes and boats. I think that these are offerings for their dead relatives. On the streets almost every business had a small altar holding incense, flowers and statues built into the walls. There were even little offerings of food and incense in the gutters all along the street. I discovered later that today was some sort of festival day so this activity may have been more evident than normal.

The language classes have made this a challenging week but I am making a little progress and am enjoying the opportunity to get to know this complex city.

First Swim in a Tropical Sea – 31st May 2008

First Swim in a Tropical Sea – 31st May 2008

I had my first swim ever in a tropical sea today. A group of VSA volunteers, and some pediatric doctors and nurses from New Zealand who are working here for a couple of weeks, organized a trip to a beautiful beach about one hour travel north of Quy Nhon. We all piled in to the back of a little open truck and bumped our way across the plains then up the coast until we got to a beach that is a favorite of the local VSA team. After an interesting trip we arrived at an almost deserted beach with scraggly trees, wonderful big rocks, white/golden sand and blue seas. Although it was windy it was wonderful to swim in the gentle surf. Unfortunately there were microscopic things in the water that sometimes gave a little sting like a mosquito bite but it did not detract too much from the pleasure of being cool for the first time in ages.

The water seemed very salty and was unbelievably clear. I borrowed a snorkel and mask and enjoyed looking around the rocks but unfortunately there was far more plastic rubbish in the water than fish. We are going to Jungle Beach, a few hours south of Quy Nhon, in July. I hope that I am able to have a better snorkeling experience there.

While we had a picnic lunch some Vietnamese people arrived. The other volunteers correctly predicted that, although there were miles of empty beach, they would come and sit close to us. They selected a place right alongside so they could watch us with undisguised fascination. Apparently this happens every time – we must be very interesting!

On the way home we watched people working in the paddy fields. I will never eat rice again without respecting the amount of backbreaking work that goes into producing it. Planting, fertilizing, weeding and dyke maintenance is all done by hand. Sometimes we see mechanical ploughs but usually this is also done with a buffalo, a large cow or a person pulling a heavy wooden plough through the thick mud. Today we saw a man moving water from one field to another using a bucket. Given the amount of water involved this seemed like a massive task.

On the way home we stopped to look at two ancient Cham towers in Quy Nhon city. I really need to make a visit to the museum so I can learn more about them. In the evening I had my first Vietnamese karaoke experience. This involves sitting in a small, stiflingly hot room with the other volunteers and staff while people take turns to sing in Vietnamese or English. For most participating enthusiasm was more apparent than talent. “Fabulous!” During the afternoon I packed for my trip to HCMC. I am looking forward to seeing it again but I am not really ready to leave Quy Nhon again so soon. It feels like I have just unpacked from Hanoi.

Befuddled and Bemused. June 5, 2008.

Befuddled and Bemused. June 5, 2008.

I have now had six of my scheduled twenty eight Vietnamese language lessons. If exercise for the brain is good for staving of dementia I should be protected for quite some time to come. I can positively feel new neural pathways struggling to connect. The first week of classes are focused on learning pronunciation. This involves learning not only how to pronounce vowels, single consonants and consonant clusters but also combining these with six different tones. The same word can mean six different things depending on the tone applied.

The language now uses a Romanized alphabet system but this has added symbols to denote the variations in the vowels of which there are twelve and other symbols to identify the six different tones. I am grateful to whoever it was who decided to replace the ancient Chinese based script with the more familiar Roman letters but it is a complete mystery to me why they chose for some of the sounds to use letters that in no way resemble the intended sound. Some of the letter clusters resemble Te Reo Maori but the sounds are very different. My face becomes twisted and my tongue rubbery as I struggle to produce noises that bear no resemblance to English. For example, the instructions for one sound, is to push out your chin, stretch your lips into a smile then make a “u’ sound that is generated from your lower throat not your mouth. After about 100 attempts I achieved something that was roughly correct then I was expected to combine it with other letters and to remember to use the designated tone!

My confusion is compounded by elements that are not what they seem. For example there are two “d” letters, one written in the normal way and one that has a horizontal line through it. The normal “d” is pronounced as a “y”. Why this was not just written as a “y” is a complete mystery for me but when I am thinking about it I can remember. Unfortunately, when I am concentrating on the other elements of the word, this bit of information evaporates from my mind and I repeatedly slip back into making a “d” sound. I am not sure who gets more frustrated – me or my instructor!

I have two instructors, each for an hour-and-a-half, one-to-one lesson. In the morning I have a man who is pedantic and exacting. Other volunteers who have studied with him talk of their strong desire to strangle him after a few days. He jumps on every error as it leaves your lips leaving absolutely no time for self correction. If you hesitate for a moment before tackling one of the convoluted sounds on the charts he jumps in and tells you what to say. Yesterday he was most disturbed when, irritated by his approach and incredibly frustrated by my own lack of skill in hearing and reproducing the required sounds, I was reduced to tears. Sternly he told me to calm myself but for a period I was completely unable to shape my trembling chin to achieve anything like to required sounds and tones. On other occasions I get the giggles which do not help at all as I try to stretch my mouth into the required vertical oval with my cheeks sucked in or to place the tip of my tongue between my teeth to achieve a silent “t”. The Vietnamese do not pronounce the ending consonants on words but the shape of your mouth is critical for achieving the correct finish.

My complete lack of musical ability is a real disadvantage when trying to remember and replicate the various tones. I seem to have no aural memory and again and again have to go back to the beginning to try to instill the correct pitch and development of each tone. I am sure that I sound like an ailing sheep as I repeatedly say “ma” in each of the different tones.

But despite my difficulties with Mr. Tuyet I do feel that I learn during his lessons. The teacher in the afternoon is much more relaxed. Whether it is from a lack of interest or a deliberate strategy I am not sure but she happily ignores most of my mistakes and tells me I am doing well no matter how appallingly I mangle her language. It is much less stressful but I suspect that I am learning much less during her sessions.

It is exhausting. By the end of each lesson I am glancing furtively at my watch between resting my head on the desk in front of me as I desperately hope for the one and a half hours to be up. I then stumble out into the street with my head spinning. We have been given a CD which I have loaded on to the IPOD that Tim and Laree kindly gave to me so now on the 40 minute walk to and from class I make a wonderful impression of a madwoman as I walk along repeating three types of “a” etc.

Apparently the one big advantage of Vietnamese is that, unlike English, the language is consistent. Once the pronunciation rules are mastered it is supposedly possible to read text reasonable accurately even if you can’t understand the content. The other volunteers assure me that they too felt like the stupidest person in the world during their first week and say that it gets better in the second. We will see!

The Long Drive – Traveling from Quy Nhon to Ho Chi Minh City. 1st June 2008

The Long Drive – Traveling from Quy Nhon to Ho Chi Minh City. 1st June 2008

I traveled today to HCMC to begin my three weeks of language school. One of the VSA vehicles, a large 4x4 had to go to the city for some work so it was arranged that I and three other volunteers who needed to go to the city would travel in the car rather than go by train. We were joined by one of the interpreters, the driver and three of the driver’s relatives (including a five year old child) so in all nine of us made the trip. It was a long, crowded journey. Thank goodness for air-conditioning.

It is about 650 kilometers and, although this is supposed to be a standard measurement, I am sure that a kilometer is further here than in NZ! Constant traffic, narrow roads and enormous potholes mean than the average speed is about 60 km/hour. We had planned to stop overnight on the way but the driver was keen to press on, so with only three brief stops when we managed to convince him that our bums were too numb to cope for another minute, we traveled from 7:30 am until we arrived at 8:30pm. Despite the tribulations it was a fantastic trip and I am glad to have done it. The train goes overnight so I would not have had the opportunity to see so much of the countryside.

Initially the road follows the coast. Rustic fishing villages were nestled beside deep turquoise bays. There are a few resorts developments but mostly this area is unspoiled. Long narrow boats with eyes painted on one of the upswept ends and huge fishing nets suspended between poles had my frustrated photo finger itching again. Unfortunately we passed dozens of roadside stalls selling large pieces of coral. A huge amount of damage must be being done to the reefs to support this trade. One of the volunteers, Pat, is a marine conservationist. He believes that this is only one of the problems that is bringing the local fisheries very close to complete ecological collapse.

When we turned inland we drove through an area where the hills were covered in gigantic boulders that were piled in a seemingly impossible manner onto of each other. They teetered in piles like giant irregular building blocks assembled by a deranged giant.

A curious characteristic of the Vietnamese is the tendency to establish identical businesses alongside each other. This is apparent in the cities where many shops selling the same goods (for example pets, mats, stationery or electronic goods) are often lined up side-by-side. In the country-side this was also evident. In one long stretch of road there were a multitude of stalls selling melons. Only a few meters apart, each had a woman sitting under a palm leaf shelter selling identical produce. Another area, on the top of a cliff had a multitude of truck washing stalls with untended hoses spraying high into the air and for about three kilometers of otherwise isolated road there were roadside coffee stands.

When we traveled over a pass there were machines working on the hill above us. Suddenly a boulder, about a meter in diameter was dislodged and started to roll down the hill towards us. While the rest of us held our breathes our driver, Dong, calmly circuited around it just as he did the dogs, cows, children, motorbikes and buses that constantly crossed our path. As a person who has sometimes grizzled about OSH’s strictures in New Zealand I have come to see that it does have some advantages. When walking on the footpaths not only are you constantly negotiating holes, tilted pavers, tree roots, motorbikes, rubbish, dogs and stalls you are also likely to have lumps of wood or bricks casually dropped next to you from building sites.

I choose to wear a seat belt in the car even though this is seems to be considered poor form. Given the volunteer nurse’s descriptions of the hospitals’ under-resourced wards where typically there are three patients in each narrow bed and the most basic cross-infection measures are overlooked, I want to do everything I can to avoid going to one. The child traveling with us stood quietly between her mother’s legs for most of the journey. I found this somewhat distressing but nowhere near as concerning as the constant stream of children, including little babies, riding completely unprotected on motorbikes. I know that it is unreasonable to impose western standards on this emerging nation but I really worry about the injury risk for these children.

One of our few stops was for lunch. Having passed cafes in many beautiful places Dong stopped at a nondescript grimy restaurant. In this outwardly unlikely place I finally got to taste Pho Bo (beef noodle soups) that was truly delicious. The toilets here and at the other places continue to be an olfactory and physical challenge. Others who have traveled in Asia may be familiar with the process of balancing over a squat toilet while attempting to keep ones backpack and trousers away from the wet, fetid floor. Declining to use the supplied hose I always have a supply of tissues and a bottle of hand-cleaner with me. The system is not designed to cope with toilet paper so you are required to add your tissues to an unpleasant basket before flushing by ladling in a bucket of water from a nearby trough. I cope because there is no alternative. At least, so far, I have always had a door of sorts so I have not had an audience for my awkward fumbling.

One of the sights that amused me as we traveled was, on an isolated stretch of road seeing a man walking with a tray at his chest, (suspended from his shoulders), selling small red, white or yellow horses with nodding heads. Why would anyone driving along this road think “excellent – just what I needed to buy, a nodding horse”? I also enjoyed the passing trucks with flashing, multicolored religious statues on the dashboards.

About two hours from HCMC we passed through an area growing dragon fruit. These strange shaped fruit grow on succulent bushes that look like something drawn by Dr Suess. Further on there were grape vines growing on horizontal frames with sheep feeding underneath. There are plenty of long eared goats but these are the first sheep I have seen. It must be incredibly hot for them. This area seemed very poor. Many of the houses were incredibly small including some built from mud bricks and others from thatch. Some houses were up on stilts, constructed from sticks had animals housed underneath.

We passed through a number of toll gates as we journeyed. These, like many facilities in Vietnam, seem designed to maximize employment opportunities. First we would stop at one booth to pay the fee and collect a ticket. A few meters down the road we would stop at another to pass the ticket to a second person. Sometimes there would be a third person employed to raise a gate. With four lanes this meant that twelve people were kept busy. Similar systems are in place at almost any venue where it is necessary to pay for entrance.

It was dark with bright flashes of lightening but no rain when we finally reached HCMC. Absolutely exhausted I was pleased to follow along behind Noel, an ex-VSA volunteer, as we made our weary way down a little lane to our hotel. I would have been happy with anything but was relieved to find a clean and comfortable room even though it was up on the fifth floor. Extremely grateful for the young man who hefted my bag up the stairs and I fell into bed.

Halong Bay Heaven – 26th May 2008

Halong Bay Heaven – 26th May 2008

After a very satisfactory week in Hanoi I shouted myself a trip to Halong Bay. I decided that I may never be back in this area again and that I would take advantage of the opportunity to see an area which is a world heritage site that has been designated one of the “seven wonders of the world” (just how many places claim that title I am not sure!)

I had heard very different reports from Anne and Selina who had been there and the Trip Advisor website included stories of people who have been pleased with their experience and others who have been very disappointed so on the “you get what you pay for” principle I decided to go for a mid-price trip of $100 US. This gave me the trip there, two days on a boat with meals and my own cabin. I trooped around a few of the many travel agents and selected one on no more scientific basis than that I liked her and made my booking. As it turned out the first day of the trip was superb and the second a bit disappointing but overall it was well worth going.

Sixteen of us were collected from various hotels and crowded into a van. We set off through the city and then traveled for three hours eastwards down the Red River basin and delta to Halong Bay. A young guide proudly described the intelligence, hard-work and creativity of his people who, having survived 4,000 years of oppression by successive invaders, have during their last 33 years of independence, been rebuilding their nation. It was interesting to hear his very direct descriptions of historical events given the multi-national nature of our group.

The countryside of was again very interesting and in some aspects quite different from my home province Binh Dinh. It appears to be a more affluent area with a huge amount of new development. Initially we passed through horticultural land interspersed with many relatively new large industrial buildings and warehouses. For a long way there were canals on each side of the road crammed with pink or white lotus flowers. There were still large rice paddies but also extensive areas growing vegetables and many fish farms. Initially the numerous towns lining the highway looked relatively prosperous and the pagodas and cemeteries seemed more ornate than those of Binh Dinh. We traveled on a substantial road and over some impressive new bridges. Some of the houses had a whole host of spires and turrets while the commercial buildings included some novel styles.

We stopped for a break at a shop selling dusty, tired, handcrafts and souvenirs. It provides employment for children with disabilities and wanting to support them I looked about for something I would like to buy but nothing appealed at all. During the trip a CD of music played an unpredictable mixture of tunes old and new. I could not keep from chuckling aloud when amongst at Jingle Bells came bursting out. The ridiculousness of traveling through the a sweltering Vietnamese May morning while listening to this old Christmas chestnut really appealed to me.

Nearer to Halong the landscape changed. Walled villages of mostly unpainted concrete houses could be seen across the paddy fields while other houses were located amongst palm and banana groves. As we approached the distant hills I again tried to define for myself what it is about their color and shape that is so distinctly Vietnam. An attempt to sketch the outline only served to remind me that I am an artistically talent free zone!

As we approached the coast the distinction between land and sea became blurred as the marshes, canals, tidal rivers, estuaries and walled fish ponds melded with the land. The roads and houses were built on reclaimed land and dykes. Tall limestone outcrops, with steep, dark grey rocky sides contrasting with recently eroded white cliffs rose up from the plains like island.

Most of my fellow travelers were snoozing in the very warm van but I felt excited by the landscape unfolding around us. Several times as we journeyed, I unintentionally blurted out ‘look at that’. How could they resist the pleasure of seeing a bride in full wedding regalia riding sidesaddle on a motorbike with her veil streaming out behind her, a long row of eight foot tall concrete Buddha’s, mostly without heads, being constructed from concrete on the side of the road or a pickup truck with little dogs and monkeys dressed in bright yellow and red jackets tethered on the back? It seems they could so I learned to keep my observations to myself!

In Halong city we went straight to the dock. In a seemingly chaotic, but not at all haphazard manner, tourists from various vans and buses were regrouped and our cluster of travelers for the trip was assembled. I kept my eyes locked on our young guide as we wove through a mêlée of tourists, hawkers and guides to find our boat amongst the dozens tied up to a concrete sea wall. Embarking on to the boat was an experience in itself. I was grateful for the preparation that a midnight gulley walk with Nick and Joe before I left Hamilton had afforded me. Scrambling over a log across the stream was good training for the process of teetering up a narrow, flexing duckboard while gripping on to a bamboo pole held at each end by a boatman. This was followed by a process of scrambling from boat to boat by climbing up the side of one and leaping across to the next until we reached the “Dream Voyage”. It certainly served as a good ‘ice-breaker’ for the group of 12 with whom I was to share the journey.

We began relaxing and getting to know each other and after awhile were seated for a delicious lunch. The process of being seated for the lunch was a mystery in itself. The crew directed various people to stand and move to different seats until we were grouped to their liking; a Vietnamese family at one table, two Malaysian business men at another and the rest of us; me, a brother and sister from Slovenia, a man from Holland and a young man from Canada at another. Given that we had been talking with each other, and were subsequently all served the same food, the reasons for this imposed seating arrangement was not clear but we all dutifully complied.

The boat like most of the others was heavily built from wood. It had three decks, cabins on the lowest, a dining area, the ‘bridge’ and more cabins on the middle and an open deck with sun-loungers on the top. At the front was a large carved dragon’s head and colorful flags decorated the ropes and mast. It did not have the functionless but decorative sails that denoted some of the boats as “junks”. My cabin was a reasonable size with two comfortable beds and my own toilet and shower. It was an excellent day.



Unable to cross my fingers for good luck (that is a very rude gesture here) I hoped fervently for the lake-like calmness promised in the pamphlet as we crossed the bay and made for the distant islands. After a particularly disastrous attempt, back in New Zealand, to go swimming with dolphins when I retched unceasingly as others frolicked in the water, I had sworn never to set foot on a boat again but fortunately the sea was calm, and apart from a short period on the way home, I never felt unwell on the trip.

The Vietnamese family stayed inside in the shade but the rest of us congregated on the top deck and enjoyed lively conversation while taking in the changing view. It is a stunning place. We only traversed a tiny section of the Halong Bay area but as far as we could see, in all directions, we were surrounded by steep sided limestone islands of various shapes and sizes. Our first stop was at “The Amazing Cave”. In a trail of tourists from a number of boats we climbed up some steep steps then descended into the welcome coolness of the caves interior. The commentary, explaining the creation of the area by a descending dragon, was cheesy and the focus on highlighting phallic shapes amongst the stalagmites somewhat obnoxious, but the cave was amazing. It was cavernous and eerie. As we wandered along a well constructed path I wondered what it had been like for people who came into caves such as this before the advent of lights and torches. What was it like to be in a massive cave with only a fire on a stick that could not possibly penetrate the full extent of the darkness?

After the cave we went kayaking. I was a little nervous at the prospect but wanted to give it a go. Again events at home had serendipitously prepared me for my adventures. Not long ago Anne K kindly organized a day in which I tried kayaking for the first time so I knew I could do it. They were double kayaks but I chose to go on my own. As I paddled along past the high cliffs to look at a shrine, with steps up to it carved into the rock, tears stung my eyes as I thought about how good it would be to be doing this with Rob. From high in the sky a big hawk came down and flew for a time along beside me as I drifted on the jade green sea. I am not suggesting that this was Rob in her promised reincarnation but it did feel very meaningful. My spiritual cynicism may have served me well over the years but it has taken some heavy knocks over the last year!

Back on the boat we traveled through seas turning golden in a perfect sunset. It was a precious time – a time when I felt enormously grateful to be alive and to be in this beautiful place. The camera got a thorough workout as I took numerous cheesy photos of the sunset. After dinner some of the passengers and an exuberant crew went swimming. This entailed leaping off the top deck into the warm dark sea – I was not game enough to join in. The rest of the evening included a period of excruciatingly bad karaoke, a German form of yahtzee (a great traveling game for people of mixed languages) and increasingly silly card games. Not being into drinking the copious beers being consumed by the others and the crew I eventually retreated and enjoyed a lovely period of solo star gazing on the top deck before going to bed.

The next morning I rose early hoping for an equally dramatic sunrise but the day just emerged grey and cloudy. It was a bit of a wasted day. We only motored around in the same vicinity, exchanging passengers with other boats as people were sorted out into different tour groups, depending on how long they were staying, the returned to the dock, where we reversed the process of embarking but this time we climbed over five boats before reaching the land. It was a pretty hairy process during which I cut my hand as I grabbed at the rough lead edge of a boat’s roof. We then began our long, hot journey home.

One of the things that amazes me about Vietnam is the extent of the cash economy. The trip, for which we had all paid quite different prices (even those of us who got to do exactly the same thing), was like everything else here, paid for in cash. I have no idea how the money was divvied up as people were moved from boat to boat but I am afraid I resisted our guide’s insistent pleas for tips for him and for the crew. Maybe I am cheap but I felt that I had paid over the odds compared with the others on board and we certainly did not go to all of the places that I had been promised in my pamphlet. I am pleased that I took an overnight trip as the sunset was well worth it.

When I returned to the Hilton (much to the surprise of the other passengers) to get my bags I ordered a hotel taxi to take me back to the cheap streets to find an affordable hotel. The taxi driver seemed at first bemused and then quite annoyed as he wound his way through the increasingly narrow streets of the old quarter. I do not think that he is used to transferring his customers to the modest hostels of this neighborhood.
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I stayed in the City Gate hotel. My bedroom would have served well as a cupboard but it was clean and the staff were really friendly. There was even a poor bleary eyed young man who had been sleeping on the hard couch in the entrance way to assist me to my taxi at 4:00 in the morning