Ha Long Bay: Part 2

In my previous post I failed to mention the presence of another passenger on our trip to Ha Long Bay- the mixologist. He rode in the back of the van with us from Hanoi and carried with him a cardboard box filled with clanking, half drained fifths. His mission was to train the bartender on our boat whom I imagined alone on the ship and making an exhaustive attempt at opening a can of beer with a corkscrew. Our friend had trouble gaining access to the boat, what with his libation bottles, but eventually words were exchanged and promises made and he joined us in the cabin. While he stayed after lunch and taught the crew how to evenly layer a cosmopolitan no one would ever order, we climbed up to the deck and partook in smuggled scotch swilled from plastic rinse cups.

Liquor purchased from anywhere other than the sparse bar on board was strictly prohibited, but this didn't stop the boat vendors that paddled from ship to ship from pushing product. One woman accosted us from her floating 7-11 the moment we slowed to reach the ferry that would take us to Sung Sot Cave, the largest cave in Ha Long Bay located on Bo Hon Island. Her inventory of beers and snacks were tempting, but the look from our guide suggested we stick to the rules.

The cave itself was magnificent and (much to my amazement) rivaled the caves of Mulu National Park in Borneo. While climbing up to the mouth of the cave, we couldn't help but slow down the procession of followers by taking extra time to enjoy the view below. The combination of green water and wooden ships framed by harshly vertical limestone islands seemed of another era. There were more than a few prime locations reserved for families and couples, but Sami had opted to stay back on the boat, having grown increasingly sick and worried that she had contracted a virus. The only thing she was able to keep down was sliced white bread.

Inside the warty icicle stalactydes and stalagmites- typically the color of mud, glowed bright green, yellow and blue under artificial light. The ambiance couldn't have contrasted more with the 17th century pirate scene out in the water. It was like walking through a Star Trek episode.

Of course, the lighting inside of the cave makes it impossible for a camera to capture it's true magnitude of depth and complexity. I tried in vain to snap digital photos, but our cheap Kodak captured the scene as a blur of grainy color. The pictures might as well have been taken at an Ecstasy fueled rave.

Pictures never turn out inside caves

 One image that did come in clearly was a trash receptacle fashioned as an orca. At least I thought it was an orca. Tor called it a dolphin, but to Becky it was a penguin. Identical trash receptacles lined the path inside , which worked wonders for keeping the cave clean even if they did seem a bit out of place.

Penguin? Orca?

 After the cave we were ferried to another small island with a peak resting pagoda that offered even more spectacular views of the bay. After taking pictures at the top, I tried to get the young man at the beer stand to sell me a can for anything less than thirty-thousand dong (or was it 40?), but he wouldn't budge. After initially walking away in disgust, I sheepishly returned, all to eager to maintain my fading buzz. We sat at a picnic table and drank our '333' brand beers and watched as a girl stripped down to her bikini on a dare and ran into the cold water. It couldn't have been warmer than 50 degrees outside. I think she may have been European from one of those Scandinavian countries.

When we got back to our ship I checked on Sami who was in terrible shape and questioning our decision to travel in the first place. One of our fellow shipmates offered up a litany of suggestions intended to handle morning sickness, not of which were available to us given our current location.

While Sami lay suffering in our cabin a few feet away, the rest of us gathered around for our Vietnamese cooking lesson. It wasn't cooking really, just assembling spring rolls, the ingredients of which had all been chopped beforehand. The mixture consisted of a beaten egg, mushrooms, garlic, white and green onion, pork, carrot and salt. I volunteered to wrap the first one and when our guide commented that it was too big, I informed him that mine was "American sized" while patting my belly.

That guy looks pretty happy about my roll

After dinner (fish, rice, vegetables and our spring rolls for us; bread in bed for Sami) we went upstairs to finish off the scotch. I should mention at this time that Sami insisted I go up and have a good time. I fear I am starting to sound like a selfish drunk.

We sat and chatted with the older Australian bloke. He tried to explain rugby to us and we tried to explain American football. Neither party left impressed.

After finishing the bottle, it was a wobbly walk down the steps. I don't remember much of the night other than visiting the toilet to call dinosaurs. Perhaps Sami could tell the story better, but I doubt she wants to.