[Vietnam]
I walk out of the small, dilapidated Hanoi terminal, and find the first taxi that will drive me the four hours directly to Halong Bay. Later, I find myself in a tiny three room hotel on the shore of the seaside village of Bai Chay. Only this morning I had woken up on the 34th floor of the Hong Kong Sheraton.
When arriving here, I had a couple hours of worry. Walking into town, young men on scooters made every attempt to engage me, but their English wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t figure the place out. I stopped and sat at some sort of tea shop with a family. No English, but lots of laughing and pantomime as they passed the tobacco pipe. But then, a young student named Huynh rode up. With good English and a lots of warmth, he had within an hour arranged my hotel room on the shore, and a boat and guide for the following day.
I went to dinner with him that night, and ate an electric eel that I selected from an outdoor tank. Hundreds of scooters whipped by on the road next to our table.