Ha Long Bay

Several hours east of Hanoi lies Vietnam's most spectacular sight - Ha Long Bay. Thousands of jagged isles spring out of the Gulf of Tonkin, reminiscent of the karst formations I encountered in Guilin but on a much larger scale. A hundred vessel strong fleet of wooden ships ply the waters in the bay, carrying the tourists who make this one of Vietnam's most visited attractions.

As the legend goes, when Vietnam was threatened by invaders the gods sent forth a family of dragons to protect the nation from the foreign armada. The dragons cleared their throat emphatically, spitting out some jewels which turned into the limestone rocks that we see today. The invasion force promptly ran into the newly formed defensive shield and sunk deep into the depths, never to be seen again. The dragons descended into the bay after their work was finished and retired in the area, giving Ha Long Bay its name.

The waters of Ha Long Bay are a healthy shade of turquoise. I enjoy the view from the bow of the ship as we approach a dense cluster of islands. Lunch is provided on board the vessel, and then it docks beside an extremely large and awe-inspiring cave complex. Sung Sot Cave is a geological wonder, full of surprises and stalactites.

Some ships have been constructed to resemble ancient junks, their distinctive battened sails standing tall. In secluded coves that could function as secret hideaways of pirates from days gone by, a few vessels drop anchor. Kayaks are provided for visitors interested in exploring the shoreline of some islets in more detail.

While most of the tourists wander off on their kayaks, I am surrounded by a trio of Vietnamese ladies. Blessed with good taste, they seize the opportunity for an impromptu photo shoot as soon as they get a moment alone with me. They invite me for dinner the following night, but I must politely decline due to my packed travel schedule. I will be en route to Luang Prabang in Laos by then.

Girls Day

I was having dinner with a Korean guy I had met while traveling in Wando. As we ate, the large screen TV inside the restaurant was showing the weekly countdown of the latest K-pop hits. When a idol group known as Girls Day started performing their latest single, every male head in the restaurant swivelled towards the screen. The girls were busy fiddling with their smart phones and hand mirrors, so they were blissfully unaware of the happenings around them.

Korean guy: Why you don't have Korean girlfriend?
Me: They are scared of me.
KG: Oh, really? Maybe they fraid to speak to you.
Me: Yes, and the ones that are not afraid don't like my style. Clothes, hair, skin, glasses. They complain about everything.
KG: But you looks like handsome.
Me: I know, but they don't realize it.

At this moment one of the effeminate boy groups was prancing about on the TV screen.

KG: You should dress like that.
Me: Never! I will not wear short tight pants and thick glasses without lenses, put on makeup, carry a large purse, or have the same haircut that everyone else does.
KG: But that is what Korean girls like.
Me: I won't dress like that. Also, they complain about my body hair.
KG: Girls especially hates your arm, chest, and leg hair.
Me: And my back hair.
KG: You have back hair!? You are beast.

The Hungry Tide - Sundarbans

The Sundarbans are the largest continuous mangrove network on Earth, covering an area of over 6000 square kilometres. Two centuries ago, it was three times its present size. A combination of human development and natural phenomena have led to its shrinkage, threatening the very existence of the royal Bengal tigers and other wildlife that call these mangroves home. I took a tour of the Sundarbans while visiting with family in Kolkata.

Spread across a delta cutting its way through India and Bangladesh, it opens up to the Bay of Bengal. India's largest tiger reserve and national park can be found here. Dozens of small communities are scattered throughout the region. Boats are the primary form of transportation from one islet to another, through the Sundarbans' many rivers, streams, and vast expanses of open water.

I usually abhor the elementary school nature of organized tours, with their set timetables, unnecessary hand-holding, and annoying companions who you are forced to spend large tracts of time with in close quarters. However this tour was organized by West Bengal Tourism, so it was bound to be entertaining and unpredictable. After some initial bumbling, the tour operators did redeem themselves with generous servings of hearty Bengali fare during each meal.

After a long bus ride from West Bengal Tourism's head office in Kolkata, we were dropped off on the main street of a dusty village. A ten minute walk later we reached the pier, and waited for our ship for  a lengthy period of time. There were no bathroom facilities around, and the bladders of many a lady were bursting at the seams. They had to go aboard a docked ship and use the toilet there.

News slowly traveled through the tour group that we would have to take another boat to reach our actual ship, as there was a bridge on the river that was too low for our vessel to sail under. A rickety raft was overloaded with the tourists, who were then transferred to the barge where we would spend the next two days and one night. On the return journey, the raft had been freshly painted. I was left with an irremovable black tar stain along the backside of my designer jeans as a souvenir.

We enjoyed the tranquil scenes of the idyllic coastline as we slowly sailed by, stopping at several nature reserves on the way. As darkness fell, the boat anchored for the night. Everyone came to the top deck to enjoy a night viewing of Bodyguard, an entertaining Bollywood flick about the musclebound titular character and his seduction by (not of) the lady he was protecting.

Famed for its man-eating tigers, the Sundarbans can be a dangerous place. Many villagers have lost their lives to tiger attacks. At one point, 50-60 victims were consumed annually. Why the tigers of this region enjoy human flesh as part of their meal plan is not yet known, but is believed to be hereditary. Despite repeated efforts, I did not spot any of the magnificent beasts.

A Bahraini Day

I was stuck for 12 hours in the Fiumicino Airport in Rome, not for pleasure or for a layover, but due to a delay of a Bahrain Air flight to Mumbai. For a large airport, Fiumicino has little to offer those have no particular fascination with luxury handbags. Gucci, Armani, Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, and Fendi stores are peppered through the airport. There was no word from the airline on how long the delay would last or if the flight would be cancelled altogether.

The other passengers grew increasingly agitated and spent their time yelling at the Italian airport staff, two of whom left as shells of their former selves. After becoming a handbag expert (giving me something to discuss in the future with purse swinging Korean men), finishing a novel, babysitting some children with the assistance of their mother's iPad tablet, eating some pizza, and napping, an announcement was made that the flight would not be cancelled. Five hours later we were on our way to the oil-rich Kingdom of Bahrain, but anyone with a connecting flight had long since missed it.

A fellow passenger commented on my extraordinary patience and coolness during the whole ordeal. The Indian men who had caused a commotion at the airport protested, saying they were also even tempered fellows. They had only pretended to loose their cool for entertainment purposes as they had nothing else to do during the flight delay.

We would have to spend a day in Manama until we could be put on the next flight to Mumbai. I spent the better part of a day exploring the mosques, skyscrapers, and markets of Bahrain's capital. The locals abhor doing any physical labour, as black gold runs through their veins. The heavy lifting is done by labourers from the Indian subcontinent and South East Asia. The population of 1.2 million is split evenly between citizens and non-nationals.

*****

An inexhaustible good nature is one of the most precious gifts of heaven, spreading itself like oil over the troubled sea of thought, and keeping the mind smooth and equable in the roughest weather. - Washington Irving

Seoul's Symphony of Fire

Each year, the city of Seoul hosts an international fireworks competition on the banks of the Han River. Similar to Vancouver's Celebration of Light, massive crowds gather to see several countries present pyrotechnics demonstrations choreographed to a musical score. A winner is announced at the end, but by then most of the crowd has dispersed and begun making their way to the nearest subway station.

With hundreds of thousands in attendance, it is a nice chance to see a cross section of the entire society in one place. Families and oldsters arrive hours in advance, setting up their picnic mats and relaxing by the river all day. There is barely any room to manoeuvre, as the whole river bank is covered by tarps, people, and bottles of soju.

As night approaches, couples and groups arrive and stand in front of the picnic crowd so that they can enjoy unrestricted views of the fireworks bonanza. The sitters loudly complain about the standees who have arrived after them and are now blocking their much anticipated view. By and large, their gripes are ignored even after they start chanting "Sit down! Sit down!" or the Korean equivalent.

The journey to get to Yeouido, the island in the middle of the city from where the fireworks can best be viewed, is a spectacle that parallels the actual fireworks extravaganza in entertainment value.  The subway is packed tighter than a Korean male into his skinny jeans. I had to transfer from one subway line to another to get to Yeoudio, but even the transfer station was extremely congested.

I circumvented the lineup by going one extra station in the opposing direction, and then crossing back onto a train heading in the correct direction there. At the destination station, bodies poured out of the subway and slowly bubbled to the surface from its subterranean depths. Wave after wave of black haired heads poured out the exits of the station, greeted by their first fireworks of the night.

*****

Boom, boom, boom

Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

- "Firework" by Katy Perry