Karst Cruising and a Bull in a China Shop

March 3rd-7th

Upon arriving back in Hanoi, Mike and I decided to check out the Museum of Vietnamese Revolution as well as the History museum. They had been closed during our first stint in Hanoi and while somewhat interesting, they served more as something just to pass our time until we embarked on our next adventure.

We had signed up to Hanoi Backpackers' Halong Bay excursion aptly titled Castaways (http://www.halongbaycastawaytour.com). While expensive by Vietnamese backpacker standards, we had heard nothing but rave reviews and decided this would be the perfect sendoff for Josh, since these would be our final days together in Asia.

We gathered in front of the hostel and they gave us these ridiculously colored rainbow hats. We then hopped onto a luxurious bus and chilled on the 3-hour bus ride to Halong Bay.

Halong Bay, the biggest tourist draw in Vietnam and a UNESCO World Heritage site, is a collection of more than 2000 karst islands jutting out of the Gulf of Tonkin. Every island is unique and contains caves and grottoes for you to explore. The landscape is very similar to Guilin and Yangshuo in China; and Krabi in Thailand. Being a karst snob by this point, I was a little skeptical at first, but upon arriving I knew we were in for something extraordinary.

Most Halong Bay tours involve a huge amount of Vietnamese and/or Chinese tourists crammed onto a run-down boat that ventures from touristic island to touristic island, stopping at several caves that are illuminated with kitschy lighting and souvenir stands. Castaways on the other hand, is pretty much a non-stop booze-cruise that has its' own private island in the gulf and bypasses the caves and islands frequented by the other boats.

Upon entering the boat, our guide Gabe or Gay as he preferred to be called, set the tone and said that we all needed to shotgun a beer before the boat leaves the port. He also said that from this point on, we had to abide by the Asian standard of The Game of Life, that terrific game that requires you to do ten pushups every time you say the word "mine". It sounds pretty easy to avoid saying the word mine, but believe me, when pushups are at stake, you say it a hell of a lot more than you want to!
  

This was not going to be a typical Halong Bay boat cruise!

As the boat left the port we were given a generic Asian meal and then went onto the roof of the boat to enjoy the stunning scenery that Halong Bay has offer. The rock formations are the pride of the Vietnamese people, and what better way to show our respect than to take karst dick picks whenever we had the chance.

We were quite a large group and we quickly made friends with the other castaways. We were joined by some amazing Canadians: Kaja, Erika and Heather from Toronto; and Kaitlyn and Rebecca from Calgary. We also quickly became friends with Oli (who Mike thought looked like a young Mic Jagger and proceeded to call him Jagger during our whole trip), and Charlie, both from the UK. Sundar (who I mistakenly called sidecar) from Australia and Loy from Singapore rounded up our crew.

After several hours at sea, having passed some really impressive islets and floating fishing villages, we started to approach Castaways private island. Before arriving, Gay let some people jump off the boat into the waters below, but Josh, Mike and myself were too sober to do it: it was like 15 degrees outside!

As we approached the beach, we saw a large group of people awaiting our arrival. They all had mischievous grins on their faces and looked a little too eager to see us.  When we got off the boat we quickly found out why they were so happy to see us.

They were the group that would be leaving the next morning and they had set up an obstacle course as our initiation to the island. At the end of the course, they had dug a deep hole in the sand and filled it with beers. We all lined up at the starting line and ran full speed towards that hole full of beer. When I said a big hole, I mean a hole that could probably fit a person or two comfortably. Seeing as though we were between 20 and 30 people all vying for a coveted beer in the hole, things got messy pretty quickly. The whole race was a blur, but the end result was a pile of castaways, a few minor injuries and a ridiculously hilarious sight for the resident castaways.

That set the tone for the rest of the night, which involved beer pong, drinking games and way too much body paint. It looked like I had been seriously beaten up because of all the red and green still on my face. You don't know how hard it is to get caked-on face paint out of a luscious beard! I'm pretty sure I was still picking it out over a week later!

 (Photo Credit: Heather Corner)

We woke up the next morning to something that is really quite rare in northern Vietnam: a beautiful sunny day! We took advantage of it and went out for a morning kayak trip around some nearby islands and beaches. Castaways had also hired a rock-climbing instructor to come to the island and we all got to enjoy the island's private climbing wall.

We then enjoyed a little beach time before Olive (another sadistic guide on the island) offered to take us tubing. Oli and Sundar had gone first and their bleeding wounds should have been an indication that it probably wasn't a good idea, but we decided that it wouldn't be that bad.

Mike, Josh, Heather and myself climbed onto the the over-sized raft. The motor-boat (or speed-boat as we would soon find out) sped ahead at surprisingly fast speeds. While going in a straight line it was rather fun and a pretty awesome way to see the karst mountains surrounding our island. We were probably speeding at around 40-50km/hour when Olive and Gay decided that we had stayed on the raft long enough. They pulled a sharp turn and we flew off and hit the water hard enough to tear off scabs (that's why Oli and Sundar were bleeding).

Dazed and in slight pain, Heather and Mike bowed out and said that they were good just to ride in the boat. Josh and I stupidly decided to give it another go (a decision which I would come to regret for 2 months after the fact).

This time it was just Josh and I on the raft and the ruthless guides didn't feel as though we deserved to stay on for any amount of time. They brought the boat up to what felt like warp speeds and once again, made a sharp turn and Josh and I were airborne. While flying through the air, I instantly regretted my decision, and as soon as I hit the water, life began to suck. I was instantly winded and it took a good 30 seconds before I could draw a breath. I was also pretty sure that I had either broken a rib or at least severely bruised it (yes, I still did have pain in it up to two months later).

While nursing my sore rib, we were invited one last time out onto the boat for some wake boarding. Olive assured me that this would be an enjoyable experience and I reluctantly believed him. He kept his word and we all got a shot on the wake board and I was pretty stoked that I was able to stand up on my first attempt. The other castaways gave it a shot, while those on the boat enjoyed the scenery and soaked up the sun.
  

                  
As the sun began to set, a bunch of us invented some kind of volleyball/badminton hybrid game, while the rest of us devised our own initiation for the Castaway crew on their way to the island. Ours was far more kind and didn't involve the group jumping into a hole.

As expected, that night was an absolute shit-show and I thought that the partying and drinking would reach its climax that night. I was wrong.

Very wrong.              

Since most to all of the details were unconscious memories to me, I have employed the writing styles of Mike Risi, who meticulously documented the debauchery and contributed the following paragraphs to this post:   

After two rowdy nights on the island in Ha Long bay, the unofficial introduction to Asia for myself and the grand finale of Asia for Josh, we woke up expecting a low-key three hour boat ride back to the mainland, followed by a three hour bus back to Hanoi. James and I had planned on hoping on the night bus to Hue in the evening and figured we would have a day to recover. After all, we had partied hard the previous three nights (2 of which were on the island) and were in need of some recuperation. The boat ride started pretty normally with the anticipated grogginess of an early morning wake-up call from an alcohol-inspired sleep. We were all chilling on the mats making small talk when about an hour in, Gay, who was beginning a stretch of a few days off in Hanoi, had the brilliant idea that we were going to start shot-gunning beers. 

Most people thought better of it but there was seven of us who somewhat passively decided to participate: Me, James, Josh, Jagger, Sidecar, Charlie, and of course Gay. In what became one of the better decisions I made in Asia, I decided that the first shotgun wasn’t feeling well in my stomach and it was one and done for me. Little did I know, this would reduce me to the position of babysitter for the remainder of the day! 

(Photo Credit: Heather Corner)

Someone foolishly suggested that they would do shotguns every 15 minutes and the six of them began to rotate rounds for the group. After three rounds, Charlie presumably foresaw the destruction and decided that she was going to sit the rest of them out. Her disinterest didn’t dissuade the remaining 5 who charged on. And so they did. Aside from a lunch break on the boat, the fab-5 plowed through 6 shotguns at roughly 15 minute intervals before pulling up to shore. Concurrently, the group was also fully engaged in the game of life and were frequently doing 10 push-ups for their infractions. From my perspective having witnessed all 6, the group was doing pretty well. It was getting loud and rowdy but most, if not all, shotguns were being consumed quickly with minimal spillage. Tunes were playing and it was a good time. However; there were a few warning signs of the destruction that lay ahead. First of all, Gay purchased approximately 20 beers from the boat with the intention of sneaking them onto the bus. Secondly, and more significantly in this recollection, was that James was stumbling while exiting the boat and was having difficulty putting on his backpack. I had to take it off the boat. 

Back on the bus, the recklessness continued. We were situated at the back of the bus in a feeble attempt to hide the beer shot-gunning from the bus driver while the intelligent ones sat quietly at the front half. The fab-5 continued to charge on and things were getting messy as beer was starting to get spilled. That said, the 15 minute intervals were more strictly enforced. It was hilarious watching offenders do pushups in the narrow hallway of the bus. As their state of intoxication increased there were many memorable incidents from my perspective. Charlie and Gay were clearly an “item” at this point and were frolicking as such. Jagger was unsuccessfully flirting with Erika who albeit playful, wasn’t reciprocating and James was, at approximately 3 times the legal driving limit and most likely dark-sided, proposed to Kaja a life full of matrimonial bliss. While she didn’t say yes, she pretended she was entertained by the affection! By about 9 beers, there were many full bladders and the thought of the fab-5 pissing in the bus convinced the driver, who seemed pissed off with the entire situation, to pull over to the side of the road and let the group and others stumble off to relieve themselves.

It was around this time, that things started to get really messy. James seemed a little more intoxicated then the rest of the fab-5 and Gay who seemed like he shot-gunned beers at 15 minute intervals regularly, was starting to have some doubts as to how much further James could go. The remainder of the fab-5 and myself, the caretaker, vehemently defended his coherence and his ability to stay in the game. At several points, Josh and I contributed by saying that we had seen James more drunk than this. After the 11^th shotgun, which in my view was clean by the fab-5, Gay was more adamantly opposing James’s continuation of the game and it became the primary topic of conversation. Meanwhile, Josh seemed like he was having a nervous breakdown. He could not find his iPhone – the apparent life-blood to his life in Montreal, his work connections, important information, and his “flavor of the month” idea to work in Dubai. He needed to find that phone. We checked bags (as I had hidden James’s iPhone and wallet in fear of him losing it), under benches, everywhere. Josh was scrambling. He even thought it might have fallen out during the piss break. It was like he suddenly sobered up in fear of losing his most valuable possession. Suddenly, Sidecar picked it up from somewhere near Josh and asked if this was it. The look of relief on Josh’s face was palpable.

12^th shot-gun: Game over....for James. He spilled 3/4s of that beer and was falling over in the process. The beer was all over the hallway of the bus, not to mention the benches....I threw in the proverbial towel at that point. If James Michael Schuster was a boxer, he was knocked out. Gay and I momentarily argued as he re-stated his claim that James was done after 11. My defense was that the 11^th shot-gun was clean and he deserved to fight on. There was no defense to be had after the 12^th shot-gun. But James, basically incoherent and lifeless at this point was still adamant that he wanted to continue. We pulled up to the break point of the bus ride which interestingly enough, was full of expensive vases, some of which were 6 feet tall! Considering James couldn’t walk straight at this point, he was kept out of that building. Like someone at a gym, I became his “walk-spotter” doing so much like someone would spot a squat. He couldn’t walk but he wanted to continue. At the store, the fab-4 did their 13^th shotgun outside! James wanted in and was really making a scene. I think Jagger had the idea that we would fill one of the previously shot-gunned beers up with water and give it to him! We did! And then mockingly applauded his completion. He gave no indication that he knew it wasn’t beer. On this break, we sat James down on one of the stairs and I fed him water out of a bottle like he was an infant. It was cute really. Then Josh, who was arguing pretty regularly with James at this point after 7 odd months of companionship, popped the bottle in James’s face and the water spilled all over his shirt. This infuriated James but he was helpless to do anything.

At this point, it was time to leave. The fab-4 tried to sneak more beers on the bus to continue but the driver was having none of it. I think Jagger managed to get 1 or 2 on. James was staggering onto the bus when he delivered his most memorable line of the day. I walked right behind him with my arms under his armpits to support him as he passed the intelligent people on the front of the bus. I thought he was going stumble onto some innocent victim when he uttered “don’t judge me bitches” as we staggered by. It was priceless. The last hour of the bus ride home was pretty uneventful, fab-4 plus James essentially passed out. There was one stop though: Sidecar awoken and walked to the front of the bus and asked the driver to stop. I believe he was the first and only one to throw up.

When we arrived back at the hostel, we came to the conclusion that we could not possibly take the night bus that night, postponed the journey by a day, and booked another night in a dorm room in Hanoi. Since that bus ride had been the only thing keeping me sober, I joined the fray. We had a quick turn-around, showered up and starting drinking some beers again. Rather unexpectedly, the entire group got going as before. The beers were cheap and the next thing we knew, we were on our way to the nightclub down the street to drink slightly more expensive beer. After another night of drinking and dancing we were absolutely smashed! I recall jumping up on the mini-stage/stripper pole and dancing myself with several shy, timid, Vietnamese girls. This included joining some ballin’ Vietnamese guys and gals at a table who were happily sharing their drinks and dancing with us. Asians just love partying with Caucasians in their own country! Of course, none other than James Michael Schuster led the charge. In typical communist Hanoi fashion, the club closed around midnight and it was time to leave. James, who had obviously re-entered the darkside, was plastered. Probably a combination of the day drinking and the night drinking. We all left and it was pandemonium outside. People were everywhere and James could not walk. Loy and I were James’s armrests as we guided/carried him out and walked back to the hostel. I don’t remember if we took the stairs or the elevator at the hostel as I was drunk as well. But we got upstairs and as a group we were bouncing off the walls of the hostel hallways until we managed to find the hostel room. We quickly dumped James off on his bed where he instantly passed out, half on the actual bed itself. Loy and I went back outside to look for the group who had left for the second “after-club” but we were unable to find them. We shot the shit for a bit and parted ways.

So.

Needless to say, I woke up feeling beyond shitty the next day and almost everyone that was on our tour was nursing varying degrees of hangovers.

Despite the hangover, a pain far greater than any alcohol-fueled decision I have ever had was on the horizon: Josh's departure. Mike and I were to continue south to Hue, Vietnam's imperial capital, and Josh would be headed back to Bangkok, to make his return back to Canada.

We had spent over 7 months together and visited 9 countries, only being apart for brief periods of time. He is like a brother to me, an incredible friend and awesome travel buddy. As Mike and I packed our things and boarded our night bus, I couldn't help but shed a tear for the amazing chapter that had just closed on my incredible adventure.

   

    

The Beauty H'mong Us

Feb. 28th-Mar. 2nd

Aside from visiting all of Hanoi's historical wonders and partying our asses off, we still somehow managed to find time to organize a trip to the mountainous region of northern Vietnam.

Our train left Hanoi during the night, and since we opted for the cheapest package, our upright seats assured that we got as little sleep as possible.

We arrived at Lao Cai shortly before sunrise and were greeted by the usual pushy tout who brought us to our minibus for the rest of the journey to Sapa, our final destination. We were joined by a Brazilian girl named Joana who was finishing up her stint in South East Asia, and I spent the ride picking her brain for information on Vietnam and Myanmar.

After a beautiful drive through spiraling rice terraces and jagged mountains, Mike, Josh and I were dropped off at our hotel, the immaculate Sapa Summit Hotel. Considering the price we paid for our package, this hotel was far beyond my expectations. We checked into our room and made our way down to the dining area for breakfast.

Not only was the breakfast filling, but the dining area led to beautiful terrace overlooking Sapa and its mountainous landscape.

After breakfast we went back to the lobby and were greeted by our Black H'mong guide, Em. Although she looked like a child herself, she said she was 18 years old and had recently given birth to her first child. She seemed to almost beam with pride when she said she started working again only six or seven days after having given birth.

Sapa was established as a French Hill Station in 1922 and is now the epicenter of Northern Vietnam's Hill-Tribe tourism. The city is frequented by many of Vietnam's ethnic minorities and it is not uncommon to see women in beautifully coloured costumes and head-dresses selling their wears in Sapa's various markets and squares.
            
Out of the several minority tribes that call the Hoang Lien Son mountain range their home, over half of them are of the H'mong group. Em said her sub-group, the Black H'mong, could be recognized by their dark-indigo dresses. Although younger members of this group wear plainclothes in their everyday life, most would still wear their traditional costumes for special occasions and while guiding photo-op hungry tourists such as myself.

We started our leisurely descent towards the H'mong Catcat village. Although now considered a tourism area, many H'mong people still live in traditional houses, raise pigs and produce high quality textiles and clothing.

As we made our way to the village, the similarities to neighbouring China were quite evident: the magnificent rice terraces spread out as far as the eye could see reminded me of when I got lost in the rice terraces in Guangxi province in southern China.

Our mostly downhill walk culminated at the beautiful Tien Sa waterfall, where we stopped to take some group pictures, before watching a H'mong dance show.

While down at the waterfall, we met a Kuwaiti girl who would be joining us for the rest of our day. Unfortunately, she was as bratty as she was beautiful (and damn she was attractive!).

After having a good lunch and listening to our Kuwaiti princess insult our Vietnamese waiter for not speaking English, we asked the hotel manager where we should visit by motorbike. He gave us a map of the area and crudely wrote where some of the places of interest were.

After struggling to find the gas-station in downtown Sapa, we were finally on our way uphill onto the winding roads in the Hoang Lien Son mountains.

I've been on some pretty impressive roadways in the past, but this road has to have been one of the nicest. This mountain range is at the eastern extremity of the Himalayas; and their jagged, rugged peaks are a hiker's dream.

We spent the rest of the afternoon zipping around on our motorbikes, admiring the scenery, visiting some waterfalls, and just loving life in Northern Vietnam.

Because Josh was chauffeuring around the Sultana of Kuwait, Mike and I sped ahead and eventually lost sight of them. We searched around a bit, but eventually gave up and climbed a nearby lookout point.    

This lookout point gave great views of Vietnam's highest peak, Fansipan, standing at 3143m (10,312ft).

After pretending we actually saw the peak of Fansipan, we drove back towards Sapa as the setting sun illuminated the rice terraces in a gentle golden hue.

The next day, we were once again greeted by Em, who would be guiding us deeper into the countryside, where we would be staying overnight at a local homestay. We were joined by a French couple and Yulia from Russia.

The walk was incredibly scenic and Em allowed us to take many breaks along the way to admire the sprawling rice terraces and to catch our breaths from the combination of blistering sun and lack of shade.

We stopped for lunch and were instantly pestered by little H'mong girls trying to sell us colourful scarfs and bracelets. Although Mike and I each bought a scarf, the little girls kept harassing us until I responded 'Ochow' (thank you in the H'mong language), which Em had taught me earlier. In fact, every time I used the word from that point on, the touts would leave me alone. Genius!

What was particularly funny, was the approach these girls took to selling their items. They would all repeat "buy from me" in a monotone, children-of-the-corn-type refrain until someone would finally give in. It worked more often than not.

A short while later, we arrived in the multi-ethnic Ta Van village that would act as our home for the night. The vibrant headscarfs and clothing of the local women were a sharp contrast to the arid yellows and greens of the surrounding hills.

After dropping off our stuff, Mike, Yulia and I climbed up a steep path in order to get a nicer view of the area, but a growling dog made that goal unattainable.

Following a nice home-cooked meal, we chilled at Luckydaisy's Bamboo Bar, conveniently located right across the road from our homestay, before coming back and enjoying just the right amount of rice moonshine and calling it a night.

The next day we continued our walk toward Giang Ta Chai village, passing local children, animals, and traversing a small bamboo forest to get there.

Before reaching the village, we took a brief stop at yet another waterfall before having lunch and getting a ride back to Sapa.

Despite the touristic nature of Sapa and its guided treks, I would still highly recommend it. The scenery is quite different than other places in Vietnam and the climate is a nice change from the humid cloud that perpetually drapes over most of Vietnam's north.

  
Even though we only spent 2 days walking around the area, there are actually hundreds of kilometers of paths and numerous minority villages that rarely receive foreign visitors, if you desire a more self-guided approach.

Another night train awaited us that evening and before we knew it, we would be leaving tranquil Sapa and would awake in chaotic Hanoi, ready for the next round of culture and drunken shenanigans, and oh what drunken shenanigans they would turn out to be...