Halong Bay and Hanoi Elegance, 1-2-3!

We returned last evening from our Halong Bay excursion with Handspan tours and were delighted to find that the Hanoi Elegance 2, home for the night, was directly across the street from the Handspan office, where we were deposited, enriched, weary, thrilled and bedraggled. We were also dreading the inevitable battle to get a partial refund for the trip, comprised of polar-opposite experiences. Oh, and for those wondering, it really is possible to gain weight while suffering from dysentery. That is, unless my clothes feel snug due to abdominal distention from the dysentery itself. It's gotten so that I accept as routine what back at home would be debilitating stomach cramps.

This Hanoi Elegance 2 should not (well, not completely, anyway), be confused with the Hanoi Elegance 3, where we spent two nights before heading off. In fact, both are exceptional boutique hotels under the same management. (No, we won't get to see Hanoi Elegance 1). So here's what $55 (Hanoi Elegance 3) and $50 (Hanoi Elegance 2) gets you in Hanoi. (Thanks, once again, go to www.tripadvisor.com.)





But I'm here, at the Hanoi Elegance 2, waiting for a taxi to the rail station, where I board an overnight train to Lao Cai for onward passage to SaPa and my hill-tribe trek. I hope the train has reasonably clean bathrooms, where I will undoubtedly spend most of the night. The train arrives in Lao Cai at 5 am. I go to the hotel for breakfast and then hit the trail straightaway. Oy.

Halong Bay was a mixed bag of the sublime and the seedy: the surreal experience of paddling through ethereal karst formations and lagoons, an ultra-luxe stay on Cat Ba Island at a resort, lounging under thatched roofs and sipping freshly squeezed pineapple juice balanced with a bug-infestation in my junk cabin (Dan was reassuring and soothing, and devised a brilliant Janny-protection protocol involving spraying DEET around the perimeter of my bed), rodents (thank goodness I was unawares until the following morning), and food poisoning. It all promised to end on an up note until we boarded...the ferry back to Haiphong. :O I've never more appreciated the US Coast Guard and all our navigation regulations. To say I was surprised that our entirely unseaworthy boat--greatly over capacity, as witnessed by the fact that they began handing out plastic stools to passengers when the seats ran out--is a vast understatement!

Edit: August 11, 2008

Halong Bay got short shrift in the blooging department and so I'm adding some pix and details long after-the-fact. Disappointing junk boat accommodations aside, it was nevertheless a highlight of the trip and the majesty of the famous karst formations soaring skyward from the depths of the bay were spectacular. We left Hanoi by bus to Haiphong, where we boarded our junk. Initially, it seemed quite nice. The rooms were necessarily small, but attractive, and we were welcomed with hand towels in the dining room, where we later enjoyed truly delicious and nicely presented meals, albeit of questionable hygenic preparation standards. The roof deck afforded us lovely views of the bay and other boats, and the three diverse couples aboard our boat (Norwegian, Dutch and a Brit/Italian pair) were fine company.

When we left the docks in Haiphong, we cruised past karst mountains and just generally marvelled at the sights. It was truly a surreal experience--I felt that I had stepped into a postcard. I had a few first cues that the accommodations might not be all I'd hoped when I first entered my cabin, No. 204, and was olefactorily struck by both a toxic-substance odor and noxious diesel fumes. That the air conditioner was, well, under-performing, only increased my anxiety: any hope I had that it would double as an air-purifyer was summarily dashed. I quickly changed clothes, leaving my suitcase open and half-spilled on the bed, and left my cabin, AC on high, fingers crossed. Dan and Hein's cabin seemed toxin-free and cool by comparison, so I figured I'd give the AC a chance and hoped the air would be both clean and breathable when I returned. It wasn't.

We first cruised to Surprise Cave, a toursity but nevertheless fun, interesting, and blessedly cool grotto that was reportedly discovered in 1901 and used by the Viet Cong as a hideout during the VN war. A short but steep climb leads to three inner chambers, somewhat garishly lit throughout with yellow, orange, green, red and blue lights. It was actually more compelling a destination than I'd feared and we enjoyed our little "interpretive stalagmite hunt", as our guide quizzed us about which animal images we could find: tiger, dragon, penguin, turtle, rooster and, of course, the large phallus...er...canon. From the top of the cave, we looked out over the sprawling bay at the myriad junks--ours now among them.

We next cruised to a beach crowded with tourists swimming in waters of suspect cleanliness, but a strenuous hike to the top of the mountain was a worthy escape with breath-taking 360-degree views of the bay.

Back on board, we enjoyed a great meal, sunset from the roof deck, and then...

Janice, tearfully, voice quavering: "Dan, will you please come down to my cabin...it's infested with bugs."

Upon retiring to Cabin No. 204, I switched on the lights to find (in addition to the toxic lacquer smell, diesel fumes, and warm air), cockroach-like bugs swarming in and over my suitcase and its contents. This, as those who know me can attest, was nothing short of a travel crisis. Our guide and a crew member assured me that the smell was safe (freshly painted lacquer varnish is perfectly safe, didn't you know?), that my AC was simply on the wrong setting, and that the bugs had entered my cabin through two holes that remained from incomplete renovation. Plug those babies up, and I'll sleep like a baby. Uh, no. After stuffing tissue into the holes (which i knew wasn't going to make a damned bit of difference--these things were EVERYWHERE!), I began implementing Dan's three-point bug-protection system, the linchpin of which was to pull my bed out from the wall and protectively spray DEET around its perimeter. (Needless to say, this did little for the already dangerous air quality in my cabin.) In the end, I sealed myself, sweating and still panicky, into my silk DreamSac, and slept, fitfully, with the lights on after confirming that my tormentors re-emerged as soon as the lights were out. Thank you, Ambien. Thanks, too, to those eyeshades.

The next day's adventure was the centerpiece of our cruise--sea-kayaking! This part of the trip, in contrast to my cabin, met and exceeded our expectations. Paddling past a floating village and fishing boats, into lagoons and under karst-tunnels was both thrilling and peaceful. And Hein, for her part, never having kayaked, was a courageous trooper and a natural and was paddling like a pro in no time. When we'd had enough paddling, we reboarded our support boat and headed to Cat Ba Sunrise resort, the first time on our trip that the oft-used word "luxury" actually applied.