Hanoi and Ha Long Bay: To Heaven and Hell and Back

It is mayhem here. The streets are alive with noise. There doesn’t seem to be any coordination. Right outside a nice coffee shop there will be a woman fixing an old motor and a chicken running around. It’s busy and the traffic is so unorganised, but somehow it works. Everyone just drives in the direction they want, across the road, the wrong direction and even sometimes in the right direction. Crossing the road is a lot easier than it looks though. Quite simply step out and the bikes will go around you. Wes wasn’t convinced, so I proved my theory by stepping out without looking and made it across fine. Sorry Mum, probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.

We got a motorbike taxi around the city. The driver handed me a feeble excuse of a helmet. It was made from a thin bit of plastic and the buckle was broken. As we drove around I had to hold it on with my hand. In the unfortunate event that we were in an accident I don't think it was going to be of much use.

You'll notice everyone is driving in different directions

Taking his shopping home on both handlebars and giving his mate a lift.

We went to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. I didn’t know Ho Chi Minh was a person, I’ve only known him as a city. He was the first president of Vietnam and helped gain independence from France…I think. To be honest I’m still not entirely sure who he was and what he did. I was too hungover to really learn that much about him. He must have been pretty important to have had a city named after him. I ought to read up about him.

We later went to the Maison Centrale Prison. Built by the French to imprison and torture any Vietnamese who opposed their rule, and later housed American pilots that crashed and landed in Vietnam. John McCain was imprisoned there. It puts my complaints of being hungover into perspective.

Back at the hostel and both Wes and I agreed that we must not get drunk that night as we’re getting picked up for a boat trip at 6am. You can imagine what happened next. This one was my fault to be honest. I was easily attracted to the 3-hour happy hour – with one of those hours of FREE beer. I’m not entirely sure what time we retired to bed, but only a few hours later we were up and preparing ourselves for a 6-hour journey to Ha Long Bay. Bus, boat, bus, and another boat journey and we made it. And when we got there all of our complaints were forgotten as this was to be our home for the next few days.

A tropical, hidden paradise. No wifi and no connection with normal society. Just and incredible view and a few beers.

Unfortunately the island was already inhabited by a group of people called “reps”. These people are employed to make sure you have a “good time”. 

Wearing the typical uniform of flip flops, shorts, a baseball hat on backwards and a very loose fitting tank top. They often shout through a microphone “who’s ready to have a good time?!” Just shhh. I want to have a good time, but stop shouting. Give us some safety information, tell us where is the first-aid box is and put some music on. The rest will take care of itself.

Drinking from 1pm is dangerous. If there was a competition for who got the drunkest I definitely won and partly down to Wes. One of the rules of the beach bar is that if you ring the gong hanging nearby you must buy everyone a drink. Wes turns to me and asks “should I ring that gong?” to which I have the easiest answer for him. “Yes. Yes, you definitely should”. He did. Twice. He has more money than sense and he doesn’t have that much money.

The next day there was very little time to rest and enjoy the scenery as we were on a booze cruise at 10am. Yes, 10am. It was a pretty sweet day of meeting new people, kayaking through Ha Long Bay, and drinking. It’s a truly beautiful place.

Two days on that island is enough though. After 2 days of very intense partying, no sleep, eating the same food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, sleeping in a sandy bed, getting sunburnt, being hungover, and having to listen to those reps constantly shouting I was ready to go. Unfortunately for me we had the 6-hour journey back to Hanoi ahead. I was suicidal.

I am currently writing this edition from an overnight sleeper train from Hanoi to Hue. It’s peaceful and I’m going to get the first good night’s sleep in since leaving England.

It’s almost been a month since I stopped working, travelled to England, back to Seoul, and have been enjoying myself in Vietnam. It’s moments like this one that you appreciate the small things. A bed free of sand, a non-alcoholic drink, and time to rest. 

My Dirty Weekend Away with the Missus

OK, I’ve been getting lazy with this blog. I’ve gone from writing two a week to one every couple of weeks…sometimes. The last few weeks here in Korea have been unbearably hot and humid. Yesterday it reached 34°C but, with the humidity it supposedly felt like 40°C. I’m not sure how they work that out, temperature is fairly definitive. There are no added clauses on a thermometer but, at some time this week a Korean has said that it currently feels 40°C and I’m not going to argue with an Asian who deals with numbers.

Last weekend we went to the 17^th Boryeong Mud Festival, an event that I’m sure you can work out what happens from the title. People come from far and wide to cover themselves from head to toe in mud. My dirty weekend away with the missus got off to a terrible start. As she is Korean, I left her to organise the accommodation, travel, all the important organisational stuff. She just told me where to be at what time. “Meet at 10:20 at the Express Bus Terminal Station, Nambu Terminal”. OK, easy enough, I’ve been to that station plenty of times.

I met a few friends for some drinks the day before on Friday. After some drinks that afternoon I met some other friends and we went to a house party organised by some people we met at Korea Burn a few weekends before. A few too many drinks later I headed home. As I woke very hungover, I realised that I was late. I had to gain consciousness, evaluate my life, pack a bag, and get the subway to EBT Station. As I was packing I realised I didn’t have my wallet. Fuck! Where is it?! It turned out that I’d left it at the party, and Somi had messaged me to tell me that she picked it up as she left. Good and bad news, at least I haven’t lost my wallet but, now I don’t have a wallet for the weekend. I searched around my apartment and found ₩2,000 (£1.20), enough money to get the subway to meet Angie. As I evaluated my life I was at a low point, I was enduring a violent hangover and I felt that I was going to be sick at any moment. I put a plastic bag in my back pocket in case of any impromptu vomiting on the subway. Always thinking.

I arrived at Express Bus Terminal Station (no vomit) on time but couldn’t find the Nambu terminal. I searched for ages but finally had to ask. The lady at the information desk told me it was two stations down the line. Bollocks. I’m at the wrong station. No time, no wi-fi, no wallet, no money, no idea. The low point hit lower. Finally, I got wi-fi and told Angie. All the guys we were travelling with made the coach but Angie had to go and meet her clueless boyfriend. I asked her if she was angry, she said no but she definitely was.

We got a coach from EBT and headed for Boryeong. We arrived and it was time to get muddy. I had heard that the festival was just filled with boozy foreigners, and not to let the reputation down it was time to start drinking again. The last hangover had just worn off but I had a feeling I was in the process of starting a new one. The festival was fun; obstacle courses, mud slides, mud wells, a music stage, and all the events were beside the beach.

We got a lot muddier but I think we were all too muddy to operate a camera. Never mind.

We went back to the pension and spent the evening playing drinking games. So many drinking games I can’t even remember them all. We also played the longest game of Ring of Fire that I ever witnessed. We played the entire game, as the last card drawn was the 4^th King. We played so long that we actually ran out of alcohol. An impressive feat.

After the drinking games we went down to the beach. As we frolicked on the sand and watched the fireworks I had one of the most random moments of my trip so far. Sometimes on your travels things just start to become normal. Living in Korea isn’t weird anymore, it’s just normal life. But at 3am on Boryeong beach I was watching middle-aged Korean couples doing the waltz, as someone blared classical music from their car. I had an “oh shit, I’m in Korea” moment.

It was a fun weekend all round.

The following weekend Karl and I went indoor fishing. I didn’t even know that was a thing. We had discussed going fishing for a while but in this intense heat you want to spend more time inside enjoying the delights of air conditioning. 

We went in and the room was dark, this was to stop fisherman targeting the larger fish as the fish were electronically tagged and by catching the larger ones you could win a prize. It wasn’t long before we were both baited and had our rods in the water (that’s not a euphemism). It took all of about 15 seconds before there was a fish on the end of my line. I felt a mix of joy and accomplishment by catching a fish, I was hardly a match for Jeremy Wade or David Seaman but, still. But as I pulled the fish out of the water it started splashing and I felt terrified, and began squealing at the thought of unhooking the fish. Luckily there was no one else there to judge our lack of manliness. Karl plucked up the courage to touch it and we released it back in the water.

I think I liked the idea of fishing but in reality I’m too much of a coward to deal with a harmless fish. It’s one of my believies.

I was catching so many fish it was becoming unpleasant, the repetition of joy followed immediately by terror. I said at one stage “oh bollocks, I’ve caught another one!” something that has never been said in the history of fishing.

A while into our indoor fishing nightmare 3 Korean guys joined the party. Before long they were catching fish too but they weren’t squealing. These were obviously real men. I was too ashamed to catch any fish in front of them and decided to stop baiting my hook. Unsurprisingly and thankfully, I didn’t catch any more fish.

Despite spending the afternoon panicked and petrified I did have a fun time. Another fun weekend in the Land of the Morning Calm.