The Downside of Paradise
It's easy to compare Thailand to Vietnam. They both are roughly the same size, they also have phenomenal beaches, jungles, mountains and hip urban centers with backpacker strips, not to mention excellent cuisine and temples galore--but perhaps the similarities end there. Thailand has been doing the tourist thing for a very long time. While Vietnam was embroiled in war, Thailand was busy extending services to American soldiers. Of course, this created a negative impact in way of the sex industry, but it also set Thailand up to be a tourist powerhouse. Thailand has been in the industry so long that they know what works and what doesn't work, as they've had time to perfect the system. Also, in the traditional "Land of Smiles" way, Thai vendors seem genuinely happy to have your business, which makes the experience that much better. Compare that with Vietnam, which is relatively new to the tourist game. Yes, Vietnam is beautiful; yes, foreigners are curious and hungry to explore; and yes, there is a buttload of money to be made. These realizations have made the tourist industry explode in Vietnam; however, unlike Thailand, Vietnam hasn't had time to iron out the wrinkles and learn some valuable lessons.
In the internet age, it's incredibly easy to find out information on a place. It's not like the old days of thumbing through Fodor's or Lonely Planet guides (though those were great days). Feedback is almost instantaneous, and for Vietnam, the complaints are universal. The consensus among the backpacker community is that Vietnam is stunningly beautiful, and the sites are all worth visiting; however, transport is bad (i.e. sleeper buses), the vendors will rip you off, and the locals are unfriendly or aloof. From the near-mutiny we experienced in Ha Long Bay, it's clear that tourists will not stand for this forever.
My opinion is that Vietnam is currently cutting its teeth in the tourist industry. Perhaps with time, they may perfect their methods to maintain a steady flow of happy, satisfied tourists. Until that time, for those interested in visiting Vietnam, I would encourage you do to so. But be as informed as possible, and heed the tales of those who have come before.
Vietnam's Capital
We booked a room in a guesthouse in the historical center of Hanoi near Hoen Kiem Lake. This was a great focal point, great for walking around and gazing at Turtle Tower, a pagoda, on an island in the middle of the lake. There is a story surrounding this lake, something to do with a giant turtle and a sword. Though we didn't find any turtles while circumventing the lake, we did meet some lovely local girls who posed for us to take photos. The people we came across were upbeat, and there was almost a celebratory mood around the lake. Parents were buying ice cream and balloons for their children, and others were just kicking back enjoying the weather. Modern department stores and high-end restaurants lined the edges of the lake, giving this part of Hanoi a very cosmopolitan feel.
Just down the alley from our guesthouse was a large and dark Roman Catholic cathedral in a square. Chris and I frequented some of the restaurants in that area, and the food and the setting were both fantastic. One night we came across a reggae bar where a Jamaican guy was performing with his guitar, belting out Bob Marley songs while hip, young Vietnamese were socializing and texting on their phones. This was a bit like Valentine's Day for Chris and I as we sat under a cascade of paper hearts with messages, dangling from the ceiling, while singing along to "No Woman, No Cry." There were definitely good moments to be had in Hanoi.
Perhaps it was the change in latitude, but the sun didn't burn as fiercely in Hanoi. This made walking around more tolerable. We went to visit the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, the guy largely responsible for bringing the North and South together; in other words, a guy not high up on America's list of the Best People Ever. Once again, this kind of thing was more up Chris's alley, and I went along with him to view "Uncle Ho's" mummified body, only to find that the mausoleum was closed. This didn't bother me much, as I haven't had terribly good experiences with tombs of dead revolutionists (I once got kicked out of Lenin's tomb in Moscow). There was a park behind the presidential palace, which we ducked into through a hole in a stone wall. We thought maybe we were trespassing, but it soon became clear that this was a public park. Peacocks in cages, dainty curved bridges over small lakes, women in flowing, white wedding dresses--this seemed a vision out of Alice in Wonderland, Vietnamese-style. Turns out that the women in dresses were posing for photos; not brides, but models. How different they looked from the traditional bride we had seen on the Mekong River.
Our time in Hanoi was short. Mainly we were using it as a jumping off spot for Vietnam's main tourist attraction: Ha Long Bay.
We booked a three-day trip on a boat at a travel agency. The photos in the brochures sported exquisite emerald waters interspersed with nubby green humps of limestone, rising like giant's toes out of the water. Ok, we knew that Ha Long Bay was beautiful; we understood that part. It was the price that sort of had us flummoxed. Whatever happened to cheap tourism in Asia? The tours offered pretty much the same spots and activities. The only real difference was the quality of the boat and accommodation. Chris and I didn't want to go bottom-of-the-barrel, not when it came to a three-day tour. Wowed by the image of a traditional junk boat, and luxurious accommodations on a place called Monkey Island, we were won over. We handed over $215 (a colossal amount in Asian terms) and prepared ourselves for paradise.
The Tail of the Dragon
It was a four-hour bus ride from Hanoi to Ha Long, on the shores of the Gulf of Tonkin. From there, the tourists were crowded to board their boats. We could see that the styles of boats were numerous, but none of them looked like the dark wooden junks which were shown in the tour brochures. Maybe our boat was further down the harbor. We were escorted to a boat that sagged in the water next to larger, sleeker boats. We had do a double-blink to check our vision. Instead of a classic-style jewel of the Orient, we got Tommy Tugboat, or the nautical version of the Little Engine who Could.
Things just got more comical as we went along. Our boat, named Sunrise, puttered through the water, and everyone aboard looked just a little bit confused. In the words of Jim Morrison in An American Prayer: "Where are the feasts we were promised?"
Our first stop was at the Dragon's Cave. This fit in with the whole story of the dragon and the origins of Ha Long Bay. Ha Long actually translates to "the dragon descending into the sea." Indeed, the little islands of limestone easily resemble the scales of a dragon's tail. The cave we wondered around was the supposed home of this legendary dragon. I thought it cute, like something out of Puff the Magic Dragon. But other than some rainbow lights, there wasn't much magical about the cave. In fact, I don't remember the cave as much as I remember the walk to and from the cave; there was a lot of climbing and hauling ourselves over and around things. But the best part came as we were waiting for our boat, Sunrise, to come get us. She pulled into port with good intentions to squeeze between two larger boats. We heard a crunching of wood as little Sunrise took out the railing of her upper deck as she scraped along the side of the other boat. This served as fairly good entertainment, and everyone watched the action as she backed up, making the damage worse. "That's our boat," I proudly stated.
I decided to make light of the whole thing. After all, this was Ha Long Bay, a place so beautiful it's almost mythical. Our room was dingy even by tugboat standards, but it was clean, and if we left the door open, we could get a view of the water. Our fellow tour mates seemed in good spirits anyway. They belonged to the young backpacker crowd, and seemed happy just to be traveling. So yes, we had been promised music, booze and revelry, as we were all staying aboard the boat on our first night. The music--Celine Dion; the booze--ridiculously priced; the revelry--made up in the heads of tour operators. Still, as I stood outside on the dock and we began to chug into the emerald waters, the breeze was fine, Celine Dion was crooning about her heart going on (will it ever end?), and the limestone formations were obediently inching into view. It wasn't all so terribly bad.
We made a kayaking stop. This would be another first for me, as I've never kayaked before. Chris, who fancied himself as some kind of British rowboat expert, barked orders like a drill sergeant in the water. "I want to go over there," I told him, pointing at a large keyhole in a karst mound. "You have to say 'Paddle left'!" he commanded. "Whatever," was my response. "I just want to go over there." "But you have to say 'Paddle left'!" The activity became more like a military drill, and ruined the experience for me. Once again, Chris and I have proved that we cannot steer a boat without communication difficulties. Despite our differences, we did make it through that keyhole. Hallelujah!
Back on Sunrise, our tour guide looked completely stressed out. The complaints hadn't come on strong just yet by this time, but still the damaged rail didn't look good as we limped through the water. We were all laughing at it, and he didn't seem to appreciate the humor. There were complaints about the price of the booze. Beer was available at a price--$2 per can. This was outrageous, for beer in Asia costs mere pennies. What about those who had brought along their own booze? Well, the tour company had that figured out by asking a "service charge." This meant that nobody wanted to drink, and the "party" which was supposed to include karaoke, wasn't exactly taking off. There was a moment where we were all gathered on the top deck, and two girls from Bristol (Chris's hometown), who looked like they were up for anything, shed their clothes down to their bikinis and jumped into the water. This was a very high jump, and there was no way I was doing it, especially since I had seen a jellyfish go floating by just minutes before, but Chris, in the spirit of his fellow Bristolians, took the plunge. I have to give him immense credit for doing it. The girls may have had some booze stashed, but Chris had been sober. Major kudos to him for his bravery.
Our boat dropped anchor and we were set for the night. In good Asian tourist fashion, a lady sidled up to our boat in her rowboat, offering to sell us provisions. Some of our boat mates bought cheap cans of beer, which made our tour guide scowl, but he didn't stop them. Chris and I retired early to our room. We thought we might be missing out on a great party, but as we were find out in the morning, most everyone had gone to bed early.
On our second day in Ha Long Bay, we visited Cat Ba island where we went for a hike. Now, I'm usually down for a good hike, but there was something about the hike on Cat Ba that caused images of hospital rooms dancing before my eyes. There was a light rain falling and we had to transverse slippery rocks and pull ourselves up rusting ladders. As a side note, I would like to point out that I had been plagued with an incessant fear of getting hurt, I suppose ever since getting my head smashed in by police after moving to Britain. I used to be fearless; I used to go on hikes with friends, our flasks filled with liquor; I used to walk on ledges, I used to scale cliff edges--I was invincible (though I did fall off a cliff once, which sort of shook me up). This feeling had been haunting me for years, that something bad was going to happen. I had been diagnosed with PTSD from the police incident, so it was no surprise I was constantly on edge for something bad to come out of the blue, but it was a real tragedy that this extended to experiences in nature. Not that I thought I was going to die, but that I would badly injure myself. This constant fear both limited me and prevented me from activities I at one time would have happily engaged in. It also aged me, making me feel like a frail old lady. It was a shame. I wanted that fearlessness back. Still, I'm really amazed how much I actually did when considering that I had this constant fear. Ok, putting that aside, I can easily say that the hike on Cat Ba was not one of the highlights of our trip.
Our spot for the night was Monkey Island. This may sound like something out of Fantasy Island, with monkeys dripping from trees. Thankfully (as our past experiences with monkeys had been full of fright), there was not a monkey to be found. There was instead a fine-sand beach with a lodge and some huts. This was our luxurious accommodation which had been sold to us through the pages of the travel brochure. So you can image our surprise when we were shown to one of the bamboo huts. It was clean enough, but there was no windows and the bathroom was located behind a curtain. Our lounge area was a picnic table outside. I thought there was some charm to be found, but Chris was furious. We had paid a considerable amount for this trip. yet nothing was matching up with the brochure photos. It turned out Chris wasn't the only one who was complaining about our accommodations. Everyone on our tour was getting the sense that we had been conned. Though the complaints were many, the tour guide did upgrade Chris and I to a better room. We were the only ones; the rest just had to take what they were given. There was a cloud of contention cast over the rest of our tour, and the guide looked like he was ready to jump ship. His frustration was mainly with the tour operators, who pulled this kind of stuff all the time. It wasn't his fault; he was just the guide. I found this to be highly reflective of the tourist industry in Vietnam. They will sell you paradise, but send you out on a tugboat to find it.
Ha Long Bay was the worst experience we had encountered as far as conning tourists. Not only were the tour operators' lies blatant, but they were told in an unforgiving manner, as they watched wave after wave of disgruntled tourists come and go. There was no shame in their game, but hopefully the word will get out about these practices, and perhaps the government will enforce policies to keep these businesses honest.
Despite all that, Ha Long Bay was memorable. You can't go wrong with all that scenic splendor. And aboard our dilapidated boat, we got to know members of our group who were entertaining and good-natured. There were travelers from all over: Australia, Britain, Ireland, the Netherlands, Malaysia, Israel--we made up quite a diverse bunch. It's fun to think that at that moment in time, our paths all crossed on a little tugboat named Sunrise.
In the internet age, it's incredibly easy to find out information on a place. It's not like the old days of thumbing through Fodor's or Lonely Planet guides (though those were great days). Feedback is almost instantaneous, and for Vietnam, the complaints are universal. The consensus among the backpacker community is that Vietnam is stunningly beautiful, and the sites are all worth visiting; however, transport is bad (i.e. sleeper buses), the vendors will rip you off, and the locals are unfriendly or aloof. From the near-mutiny we experienced in Ha Long Bay, it's clear that tourists will not stand for this forever.
My opinion is that Vietnam is currently cutting its teeth in the tourist industry. Perhaps with time, they may perfect their methods to maintain a steady flow of happy, satisfied tourists. Until that time, for those interested in visiting Vietnam, I would encourage you do to so. But be as informed as possible, and heed the tales of those who have come before.
Vietnam's Capital
We booked a room in a guesthouse in the historical center of Hanoi near Hoen Kiem Lake. This was a great focal point, great for walking around and gazing at Turtle Tower, a pagoda, on an island in the middle of the lake. There is a story surrounding this lake, something to do with a giant turtle and a sword. Though we didn't find any turtles while circumventing the lake, we did meet some lovely local girls who posed for us to take photos. The people we came across were upbeat, and there was almost a celebratory mood around the lake. Parents were buying ice cream and balloons for their children, and others were just kicking back enjoying the weather. Modern department stores and high-end restaurants lined the edges of the lake, giving this part of Hanoi a very cosmopolitan feel.
Just down the alley from our guesthouse was a large and dark Roman Catholic cathedral in a square. Chris and I frequented some of the restaurants in that area, and the food and the setting were both fantastic. One night we came across a reggae bar where a Jamaican guy was performing with his guitar, belting out Bob Marley songs while hip, young Vietnamese were socializing and texting on their phones. This was a bit like Valentine's Day for Chris and I as we sat under a cascade of paper hearts with messages, dangling from the ceiling, while singing along to "No Woman, No Cry." There were definitely good moments to be had in Hanoi.
Perhaps it was the change in latitude, but the sun didn't burn as fiercely in Hanoi. This made walking around more tolerable. We went to visit the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, the guy largely responsible for bringing the North and South together; in other words, a guy not high up on America's list of the Best People Ever. Once again, this kind of thing was more up Chris's alley, and I went along with him to view "Uncle Ho's" mummified body, only to find that the mausoleum was closed. This didn't bother me much, as I haven't had terribly good experiences with tombs of dead revolutionists (I once got kicked out of Lenin's tomb in Moscow). There was a park behind the presidential palace, which we ducked into through a hole in a stone wall. We thought maybe we were trespassing, but it soon became clear that this was a public park. Peacocks in cages, dainty curved bridges over small lakes, women in flowing, white wedding dresses--this seemed a vision out of Alice in Wonderland, Vietnamese-style. Turns out that the women in dresses were posing for photos; not brides, but models. How different they looked from the traditional bride we had seen on the Mekong River.
Our time in Hanoi was short. Mainly we were using it as a jumping off spot for Vietnam's main tourist attraction: Ha Long Bay.
We booked a three-day trip on a boat at a travel agency. The photos in the brochures sported exquisite emerald waters interspersed with nubby green humps of limestone, rising like giant's toes out of the water. Ok, we knew that Ha Long Bay was beautiful; we understood that part. It was the price that sort of had us flummoxed. Whatever happened to cheap tourism in Asia? The tours offered pretty much the same spots and activities. The only real difference was the quality of the boat and accommodation. Chris and I didn't want to go bottom-of-the-barrel, not when it came to a three-day tour. Wowed by the image of a traditional junk boat, and luxurious accommodations on a place called Monkey Island, we were won over. We handed over $215 (a colossal amount in Asian terms) and prepared ourselves for paradise.
The Tail of the Dragon
It was a four-hour bus ride from Hanoi to Ha Long, on the shores of the Gulf of Tonkin. From there, the tourists were crowded to board their boats. We could see that the styles of boats were numerous, but none of them looked like the dark wooden junks which were shown in the tour brochures. Maybe our boat was further down the harbor. We were escorted to a boat that sagged in the water next to larger, sleeker boats. We had do a double-blink to check our vision. Instead of a classic-style jewel of the Orient, we got Tommy Tugboat, or the nautical version of the Little Engine who Could.
Things just got more comical as we went along. Our boat, named Sunrise, puttered through the water, and everyone aboard looked just a little bit confused. In the words of Jim Morrison in An American Prayer: "Where are the feasts we were promised?"
Our first stop was at the Dragon's Cave. This fit in with the whole story of the dragon and the origins of Ha Long Bay. Ha Long actually translates to "the dragon descending into the sea." Indeed, the little islands of limestone easily resemble the scales of a dragon's tail. The cave we wondered around was the supposed home of this legendary dragon. I thought it cute, like something out of Puff the Magic Dragon. But other than some rainbow lights, there wasn't much magical about the cave. In fact, I don't remember the cave as much as I remember the walk to and from the cave; there was a lot of climbing and hauling ourselves over and around things. But the best part came as we were waiting for our boat, Sunrise, to come get us. She pulled into port with good intentions to squeeze between two larger boats. We heard a crunching of wood as little Sunrise took out the railing of her upper deck as she scraped along the side of the other boat. This served as fairly good entertainment, and everyone watched the action as she backed up, making the damage worse. "That's our boat," I proudly stated.
I decided to make light of the whole thing. After all, this was Ha Long Bay, a place so beautiful it's almost mythical. Our room was dingy even by tugboat standards, but it was clean, and if we left the door open, we could get a view of the water. Our fellow tour mates seemed in good spirits anyway. They belonged to the young backpacker crowd, and seemed happy just to be traveling. So yes, we had been promised music, booze and revelry, as we were all staying aboard the boat on our first night. The music--Celine Dion; the booze--ridiculously priced; the revelry--made up in the heads of tour operators. Still, as I stood outside on the dock and we began to chug into the emerald waters, the breeze was fine, Celine Dion was crooning about her heart going on (will it ever end?), and the limestone formations were obediently inching into view. It wasn't all so terribly bad.
We made a kayaking stop. This would be another first for me, as I've never kayaked before. Chris, who fancied himself as some kind of British rowboat expert, barked orders like a drill sergeant in the water. "I want to go over there," I told him, pointing at a large keyhole in a karst mound. "You have to say 'Paddle left'!" he commanded. "Whatever," was my response. "I just want to go over there." "But you have to say 'Paddle left'!" The activity became more like a military drill, and ruined the experience for me. Once again, Chris and I have proved that we cannot steer a boat without communication difficulties. Despite our differences, we did make it through that keyhole. Hallelujah!
Back on Sunrise, our tour guide looked completely stressed out. The complaints hadn't come on strong just yet by this time, but still the damaged rail didn't look good as we limped through the water. We were all laughing at it, and he didn't seem to appreciate the humor. There were complaints about the price of the booze. Beer was available at a price--$2 per can. This was outrageous, for beer in Asia costs mere pennies. What about those who had brought along their own booze? Well, the tour company had that figured out by asking a "service charge." This meant that nobody wanted to drink, and the "party" which was supposed to include karaoke, wasn't exactly taking off. There was a moment where we were all gathered on the top deck, and two girls from Bristol (Chris's hometown), who looked like they were up for anything, shed their clothes down to their bikinis and jumped into the water. This was a very high jump, and there was no way I was doing it, especially since I had seen a jellyfish go floating by just minutes before, but Chris, in the spirit of his fellow Bristolians, took the plunge. I have to give him immense credit for doing it. The girls may have had some booze stashed, but Chris had been sober. Major kudos to him for his bravery.
Our boat dropped anchor and we were set for the night. In good Asian tourist fashion, a lady sidled up to our boat in her rowboat, offering to sell us provisions. Some of our boat mates bought cheap cans of beer, which made our tour guide scowl, but he didn't stop them. Chris and I retired early to our room. We thought we might be missing out on a great party, but as we were find out in the morning, most everyone had gone to bed early.
On our second day in Ha Long Bay, we visited Cat Ba island where we went for a hike. Now, I'm usually down for a good hike, but there was something about the hike on Cat Ba that caused images of hospital rooms dancing before my eyes. There was a light rain falling and we had to transverse slippery rocks and pull ourselves up rusting ladders. As a side note, I would like to point out that I had been plagued with an incessant fear of getting hurt, I suppose ever since getting my head smashed in by police after moving to Britain. I used to be fearless; I used to go on hikes with friends, our flasks filled with liquor; I used to walk on ledges, I used to scale cliff edges--I was invincible (though I did fall off a cliff once, which sort of shook me up). This feeling had been haunting me for years, that something bad was going to happen. I had been diagnosed with PTSD from the police incident, so it was no surprise I was constantly on edge for something bad to come out of the blue, but it was a real tragedy that this extended to experiences in nature. Not that I thought I was going to die, but that I would badly injure myself. This constant fear both limited me and prevented me from activities I at one time would have happily engaged in. It also aged me, making me feel like a frail old lady. It was a shame. I wanted that fearlessness back. Still, I'm really amazed how much I actually did when considering that I had this constant fear. Ok, putting that aside, I can easily say that the hike on Cat Ba was not one of the highlights of our trip.
Our spot for the night was Monkey Island. This may sound like something out of Fantasy Island, with monkeys dripping from trees. Thankfully (as our past experiences with monkeys had been full of fright), there was not a monkey to be found. There was instead a fine-sand beach with a lodge and some huts. This was our luxurious accommodation which had been sold to us through the pages of the travel brochure. So you can image our surprise when we were shown to one of the bamboo huts. It was clean enough, but there was no windows and the bathroom was located behind a curtain. Our lounge area was a picnic table outside. I thought there was some charm to be found, but Chris was furious. We had paid a considerable amount for this trip. yet nothing was matching up with the brochure photos. It turned out Chris wasn't the only one who was complaining about our accommodations. Everyone on our tour was getting the sense that we had been conned. Though the complaints were many, the tour guide did upgrade Chris and I to a better room. We were the only ones; the rest just had to take what they were given. There was a cloud of contention cast over the rest of our tour, and the guide looked like he was ready to jump ship. His frustration was mainly with the tour operators, who pulled this kind of stuff all the time. It wasn't his fault; he was just the guide. I found this to be highly reflective of the tourist industry in Vietnam. They will sell you paradise, but send you out on a tugboat to find it.
Ha Long Bay was the worst experience we had encountered as far as conning tourists. Not only were the tour operators' lies blatant, but they were told in an unforgiving manner, as they watched wave after wave of disgruntled tourists come and go. There was no shame in their game, but hopefully the word will get out about these practices, and perhaps the government will enforce policies to keep these businesses honest.
Despite all that, Ha Long Bay was memorable. You can't go wrong with all that scenic splendor. And aboard our dilapidated boat, we got to know members of our group who were entertaining and good-natured. There were travelers from all over: Australia, Britain, Ireland, the Netherlands, Malaysia, Israel--we made up quite a diverse bunch. It's fun to think that at that moment in time, our paths all crossed on a little tugboat named Sunrise.
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