Puppets, pigs and all that junk
From Nha Trang we flew north. It's worrying when the folding table in front of you is missing a few screws and can barely support your in-flight breakfast. It makes you wonder what else on the plane isn't properly attached. We somehow managed to reach Hanoi without falling out of the sky, so that was a relief.
After a one-night stopover we got a bus to Halong. The four-hour trip just flew by in the company of a South African guy, in his late fifties, who was very knowledgeable ("Do you know there is soya in asphalt?"; "Do you know that the Mexicans have fixed-term marriage contracts?"; Do you know I once had coffee that was made from beans that had passed through a cat?") and his little Cambodian girlfriend who must spend her entire time being bombarded by his random facts. He was also fluent in several languages which meant he could bamboozle the French couple across the aisle and the Spanish couple at the back aswell. By the time we reached Halong he had embarrassed the tour rep into silence ("Find me some cat coffee, my boy, and I'll do things for you that not even your wife will do!") and was leading the whole back section of the bus in a singalong of national anthems. He was very entertaining - every bus should have one! Not sure I could have spent more than a day with him though...
Luckily we didn't have to because, as it was Claire's birthday, I'd arranged for us to cruise
around Halong Bay for a few days on a luxury junk. Now the rest of this paragraph may get a little bit boring but that's
because I have to tell you that Halong Bay is one of the most beautiful places on Earth that I have ever been to. It is so endlessly breathtaking that I thought I might actually pass out. We cruised past some of the thousands of little limestone islands and rocky outcrops, each more stunning than the last, while sea eagles soared overhead and little fishing boats chugged b
y (one fisherman got quite a shock one morning as I'd left the curtains open in our water-level bathroom and he hap
pened to float by in his coracle just as I rose from the throne, so to speak). We got to cycle through a rainforest, climb through magical caves and even kayak to our own little private beach. Halong Bay is just unbeliveable - it's like being in Jurassic Park - and has instantly become one of my favourite places ever.
In contrast, Halong City is a shithole. It's split into two parts - Bai Chay, the hotel-riddled tou
risty bit, and Hon Gai, the older more traditional Vietnamese bit - which are connected by a big suspension bridge. Everything in Bai Chay is more expensive than either Saigon or Hanoi, it is nearly impossible to buy a cold drink and everyone is persistently aggressive - and that's the part of town for tourists. W
e went over the bridge to Hon Gai which is just as dirty and noisy but at least it's a bit more 'real'. We spent a lot of time at the market down by the docks, where the fish and oth
er assorted sealife comes straight off the boats and onto the stalls. The market is also full of various land-based creatures being butchered and sold. Pig heads seemed to be popular. The smells are other-worldly.
The next day we
were back in Hanoi and we hired another scooter to get around on. Only this time it had manual gears which I'd not attempted before. And I was going to have to learn on the streets of Hanoi, a city even more chaotic than Saigon. The first thing they show you on a hire bike is where the horn is. This is essential and must be used at every available opportunity to let people know you are overtaking, that you are pulling out, that you've noticed they are pulling out, that they are in your way or just because you've not used it for thirty seconds. All signs and traffic lights are to be ignored and it seems you can drive on either side of the road in either direction. As long as you're using the horn. We careered around the city, seeing the sights, and trying not to die too horribly.
Claire
had read about something called the Water Puppet Theatre, an apparent "must-see" attraction in Hanoi, so I agreed to go along - mainly because I was intrigued as to what this could possibly entail. Sadly, it was just as described: puppets in water. The horror of the next hour st
ill leaves me aghast. Firstly, there was a house band playing traditional plinky-plonky music while a female 'singer' emitted a sound that was very much like a dentist's drill being held against a piece of sheet metal. Then some crudely fashioned dolls attached to long bamboo poles were pushed through a c
urtain and wiggled about a bit in the large puddle that made up the stage. For an hour. All the while, there was some hammy Vietnamese narration that sounded like a distressed cat confessing everything it knew after a lengthy torture. Of course neither of us speak tortured cat so we were left trying to fathom what was going on by interpreting the wigglings of some wet marionettes on sticks. It was truly horrific.
SCOOTERS OF THE WEEK (Livestock special!)
After a one-night stopover we got a bus to Halong. The four-hour trip just flew by in the company of a South African guy, in his late fifties, who was very knowledgeable ("Do you know there is soya in asphalt?"; "Do you know that the Mexicans have fixed-term marriage contracts?"; Do you know I once had coffee that was made from beans that had passed through a cat?") and his little Cambodian girlfriend who must spend her entire time being bombarded by his random facts. He was also fluent in several languages which meant he could bamboozle the French couple across the aisle and the Spanish couple at the back aswell. By the time we reached Halong he had embarrassed the tour rep into silence ("Find me some cat coffee, my boy, and I'll do things for you that not even your wife will do!") and was leading the whole back section of the bus in a singalong of national anthems. He was very entertaining - every bus should have one! Not sure I could have spent more than a day with him though...
Luckily we didn't have to because, as it was Claire's birthday, I'd arranged for us to cruise
around Halong Bay for a few days on a luxury junk. Now the rest of this paragraph may get a little bit boring but that's
because I have to tell you that Halong Bay is one of the most beautiful places on Earth that I have ever been to. It is so endlessly breathtaking that I thought I might actually pass out. We cruised past some of the thousands of little limestone islands and rocky outcrops, each more stunning than the last, while sea eagles soared overhead and little fishing boats chugged b
y (one fisherman got quite a shock one morning as I'd left the curtains open in our water-level bathroom and he hap
pened to float by in his coracle just as I rose from the throne, so to speak). We got to cycle through a rainforest, climb through magical caves and even kayak to our own little private beach. Halong Bay is just unbeliveable - it's like being in Jurassic Park - and has instantly become one of my favourite places ever.In contrast, Halong City is a shithole. It's split into two parts - Bai Chay, the hotel-riddled tou
risty bit, and Hon Gai, the older more traditional Vietnamese bit - which are connected by a big suspension bridge. Everything in Bai Chay is more expensive than either Saigon or Hanoi, it is nearly impossible to buy a cold drink and everyone is persistently aggressive - and that's the part of town for tourists. W
e went over the bridge to Hon Gai which is just as dirty and noisy but at least it's a bit more 'real'. We spent a lot of time at the market down by the docks, where the fish and oth
er assorted sealife comes straight off the boats and onto the stalls. The market is also full of various land-based creatures being butchered and sold. Pig heads seemed to be popular. The smells are other-worldly. The next day we
were back in Hanoi and we hired another scooter to get around on. Only this time it had manual gears which I'd not attempted before. And I was going to have to learn on the streets of Hanoi, a city even more chaotic than Saigon. The first thing they show you on a hire bike is where the horn is. This is essential and must be used at every available opportunity to let people know you are overtaking, that you are pulling out, that you've noticed they are pulling out, that they are in your way or just because you've not used it for thirty seconds. All signs and traffic lights are to be ignored and it seems you can drive on either side of the road in either direction. As long as you're using the horn. We careered around the city, seeing the sights, and trying not to die too horribly. Claire
had read about something called the Water Puppet Theatre, an apparent "must-see" attraction in Hanoi, so I agreed to go along - mainly because I was intrigued as to what this could possibly entail. Sadly, it was just as described: puppets in water. The horror of the next hour st
ill leaves me aghast. Firstly, there was a house band playing traditional plinky-plonky music while a female 'singer' emitted a sound that was very much like a dentist's drill being held against a piece of sheet metal. Then some crudely fashioned dolls attached to long bamboo poles were pushed through a c
urtain and wiggled about a bit in the large puddle that made up the stage. For an hour. All the while, there was some hammy Vietnamese narration that sounded like a distressed cat confessing everything it knew after a lengthy torture. Of course neither of us speak tortured cat so we were left trying to fathom what was going on by interpreting the wigglings of some wet marionettes on sticks. It was truly horrific. SCOOTERS OF THE WEEK (Livestock special!)
Love the scooter pictures - had a c70 and used to carry potatoes on the back but never went as far as a pig!
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