Day 9 - Halong Bay - 15th September 2014

Halong Bay Day 9 - 15th September 2014

We sleep with the three windows and the door open wide, and the air conditioner going, it is a luminous green sea and sky, no stars, it's like being in Lord of the Rings, or some other ethereal magical place. I discover nobody else has done this, they shut everything up and maxed the aircon. I felt like we slept outside, I like the heat and the breeze and the sound of a silent night. Gerald jokes that perhaps there are pirates grappling up the side of the boat, James Bond style. QuNg assure us this would not occur, the Maritime Security patrol.

We are told we can do Tai Chi at 6.15 am as the sun rises, but I am awake at 4.30 am and the sky is already red, I sit outside for a time enjoying a solitary moment, then head back to bed, sunrise is away before 6.15am. But I am on the top deck at 6.10 am and Steve is already there, I have a cup of tea (thank god I travel with my own tea bags as they have no green tea on this junk). Five of us participate in a surprisingly strenuous 40 minute session, perhaps it is the sticky heat, but I am pouring sweat, as is everybody else. The instructor is grace personified, and I feel like an elephant, but am doing ok when I look around and see the grimaces on the others faces. There are so many subtle movements and breathing all happening together, and it enjoy the flowing energy and balance. It's a complex dance and I think I shall check out if they do it at home.

Breakfast is shared with others, we relinquish the table for two, only fair, and I eat fruit and pho whilst all around me bacon and eggs and sausages are going down a treat. We eat with Evelyn and Les who we have not spent time with before, they have been married for 49 years, she is 69 and her face is unlined and pretty, but she is grossly overweight. Les has had two bouts of cancer, and needs a hip replacement, and looks surprisingly healthy. Evelyn is incredibly generous in her acknowledgement of us, saying how fit and young we look. Then she says, "Does your son photograph you? You are such a beautiful unusual looking woman, I thought so as soon as I saw you!' I am taken aback, this group so far have not been prone to praise, and I thank her, holding her hand in mine. Does he?, she insists, he should be recording your feminine beauty for future generations. She thinks Joshua must be incredibly good looking. Of course, this is my cue to show her his photo, we have after all, seen their grandchildren's pictures.

There is an announcement, received by some with disbelief at first, there is a typhoon less than 24 hours away, heading to Halong Bay, and we cannot stay here, it is unsafe, so we can go on the boats to the Fishermans Village, but. It to the island where Gerald and I had planned to do a motor bike ride, chosen instead of bike riding, as it is soooo Vietnamese. Others were to walk, but I didn't bring my walking shoes, and others who cannot walk far, travel in an electric car. People are abuzz with the thought of being involved in a real life drama, but Gerald and I are happy to go with the flow, and avoid the danger of drowning in a foreign land. Besides, we are being taken to a apart do this country we would not otherwise have seen.

There are four in our boat, paddled by a small and strong Vietnamese woman in a conical hat, through scenery so breathtaking I have to close my eyes and refocus. It's like a surreal painting, mystical, magical, silent, not a boat, nor a motor, and floating villages of homes, children play, dogs sniff each other's bums, women wash, and men sleep - all on floating homes. Where do the dogs poop I wonder? We are paddled for an hour, she has a rhythm and a knowledge of her craft and the environment, and takes summit to the edge of these incredible rocks, without a scratch or a bump. There are zero animals, zero birds, they have all been eaten I imagine. We pass underneath another large bridge of a rock, and there are coal ships loading and unloading in this Unesco World Heritage Listed paradise, and oil leaking from the tender boat. I think of the Great Barrier Reef and grieve. There is less rubbish than I imagined, but still there are dozens of floating water bottles, plastic bags, and garbage of all sorts floating in some places, and in the shoreline in particular places, it is three feet deep. Did I mention that one of the women almost stepped in a rusty syringe on the beach yesterday? Heroin is a major problem here, but ICE is 'just starting' - that's progress for you.

Back on the boat we shower again, and put on our wet and sweaty clothes, we have only brought a very small overnight bag, and at 11 am it is lunch. Yes, we have to eat again, and early, as we leave on the bus at noon. Come on, Sandra, you can do this. I eat another bowl of pho, some grated carrots and fruit, and we say our goodbyes to this helpful crew, who now have to deposit the female staff on land (they cannot swim, Vietnamese women don't, something to do with not baring their bodies) and the men have to sail the junk to a safe harbour 1.5 hours away and stay on board to protect it.

How easy our lives are in comparison to this. Typhoons happen 8-12 times a year, and there are tornadoes before the typhoon hits, and mudslides afterwards, and hundreds of lives are lost every year, something we do not even hear about. Safe in our air conditioned bus, we head to our safe haven, a five hour journey. I am writing this feeling a little queasy as we drive. We stopped at the same place we stopped at only 24 hours ago, because it has 'Western clean toilets' but I have my doubts. The place is a mega cash cow, with busloads of tourists herded through its halls, filled with colourful and well made artworks, clothing, lacquer work and jewellery. I wonder what the mark up on all this is when Gerald spies a bag of our favourite lollies, Haribou Gummi Bears, which we buy at Aldo in Nowra for $2.60. The price here is US$5 a bag!! But I purchase a further selection of well made embroidered cotton, voile and silk bags as gifts, suitable for jewellery or underwear, for just a couple of dollars each. We are stunned to see the group sitting in a hectic coffee shop, eating ice creams, lollies and drinking coffee and cokes.

I fall asleep, as does Gerald, the rocking of the bus, and the heat, despite the air con, is a like a others arms.

The journey is long and people are tired, restless, the guides are working hard to alternately be quiet, tell jokes, inflate the wonder of what is coming next (free massages!) and downplay the hours spent in the bus.Who can blame them or the travel company for a typhoon? Nobody complains. These people despite their health, age, weight, and garrulous ways, are Australian, and nobody whinges, even the older folk take everything in their stride with good humour. Imagine this with a bunch of Poms. Or Americans. I am glad to be Australian.

We learn about the tensions between China and Vietnam. China recently redrew the map outlining which sea belonged to them, and took a chunk of Vietnam's, who rightfully were upset about this. They spent billions on an oil rig which they set up 118 miles off shore of Vietnam, and shot at marine police who objected and several were killed. Things escalated, and for some while, many thought a war was imminent, but then China, only because they didn't want to damage their expensive oil rig in an oncoming typhoon, towed it away and the threat of war eased. But they may be back. Han showed some cockiness for the first time, when Ashley said 'Vietnam could not win against the might of China.' - his response 'Who knows? I won't say who won the war with America - but they withdrew - and we have chased the Chinese out before over thousands of years!' The Chinese have a one child policy, and Vietnam has a two child policy, and Han thinks the Vietnamese are ready to 'lose one child in the war but the Chinese are not'. I am breathless with this, but manage to say 'Nobody wins in a war!' but the men are now engaged in a full on war talk, and nobody hears.

Thankfully, we do have to finally make the first 'Happy Bushes' stop for a fellow who drank two cups of coffee at the Cash Cow Shop. We are on a major highway, bamboo and rice paddies lining the road, a thousand cars and bikes and scooters and mountains in the distance, and we are still 45 minutes from our destination. I decide a pee will in read my comfort level and follow him out. I say don't look tat me, and I won't look at you. The women are aghast. He is in a hurry, and makes it down a steep rocky path, and standing with his back to me aiming into a rice paddy. I cautiously edge down sideways, when the soles of my inappropriate sandals slip, and all of a sudden, I am flying down towards him, off balance, and seriously concerned for my ankles and trying to avoid landing face first in the muddy water of the rice paddy. I manage to stay upright, arms flailing and speed increasing, and his broad back serves as a stopping point, I run into him with the force of an American footballer. Ya right, love? he says, eyes straight ahead, and am certain continues his steam unabated. Laughing a little hysterically, I squat behind him, hidden from the road by the hill, interested locals on the horizon, and pee a river which runs down between his thongs.

We eventually arrive at the Emeralda Resort, built here some years ago in the middle of nowhere, but since then, thousands of businesses and people have flocked to the area. It is so vast we have to take an electric car to our room, a journey of several minutes, and we are greeted with a blasting of freezing air con as we open the door, and Gerald hurries to turn it down. He heads to the fridge and I hear the passht of a beer can opening, we have not even taken our hats off. How much is that beer, I say sternly. I don't care, he replies. Fair enough. We must not open the doors as there are a zillion mozzies, although no malaria - I have not seen a single mozzie, and have counted two flies. How come? The room has a tiled floor, rather Mexican and is huge, with an enormous bed, a wall of doors to a verandah which we cannot use because of said mozzies, teak furniture, softly lit lamps which are romantic but with our aged eyesight we cannot see too well, and another glass wall over which is a bamboo blind when raised exposes a huge bathroom with a big marble both and flash fittings. Nice. But we leave here at 9.30 am and only have half an hour to change for dinner, so the indoor and outdoor pool, the billiard room, the wifi and spa are just to tempt us. I determine I shall have a bath here before bed. The shower has two temperature, boiling or boiling, and once more I thank god for my Beloved, who manages to find somewhere in between. He takes the protective paper off water bottles and opens water bottles designed to test the strength of Olympians, carries suitcases, takes photos, changes money, works out how to get water out of the tap not the shower head in bathtubs and showers, he orders drinks and works out how to get the kettle cord to reach the electric outlet, he charges our phones and iPad, takes care of tipping, manages itineraries, the alarm clock and time frames, fobs off hawkers, drinks beer and laughs with the blokes, is courteous to the women, never whinges and is an all round perfect travelling companion. He does so much to make my life easy. I am so blessed with this lovely man.

Dinner is a sight to behold, an enormous square filled with tables laden with food at varying heights, and displayed with the most artistic eye. Despite my statement at lunch time that I would never feel hungry again, I am hungry. There are chefs with big white hats and smiling staff, and the room is the size of a football field with some noisy and drink Japanese, the smells are wonderful. But the meal is disappointing, despite a vast array of choice, and my determination to find something spectacular. I turn my attention to my watts app as many others are doing, as there is no wifi and Joshua has sent us a short video of a shoot on our jetty of a model. Ewwww. Our house looks great in the background. We recognise her as the depressed girl who left early at Tropfest in December. She looks overweight, spotty, and pouts like a porn queen. I forget the title of the clip, but it's for her portfolio I think, and may be a montage of sensual poses. Back in the room I have a long both, and lights out by 9.45 pm.

Best Regards

Gerry Groom Executive Coach

P O Box 256 Berry, NSW, 2535 Australia Mob : 0408162408 Tel : 44487910 Email : groomgerald@gmail.com