Fili’s world

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(This is the !#%^ time I’ve tried writing this post, with long intervals. The electricity on CatBa Island likes to shut down exactly when I’m about to push “Publish”. This time the post is written with a horrible very-loud Vietnamese music and construction going on in the background. It’s a miracle I’m able to write anything, or stay sane.)

Stones… Dry leaves. Find stones to step on… Find dry leaves to rest upon. I must be mad. Why else would I put my self through some thing like this? I look down at my feet and notice that they’re all covered with a blend of shit-looking mud and blood coming from someplace I’m unable to spot. It’s 40+ degrees and about a 100% rainforest humidity. I’m exhausted and soaking wet, sweat coming out of places I never knew existed. I stop and take another very needed rest and consider my situation. It’s not that I don’t mind the horrible conditions I’m now facing, but what makes it really unbearable is the fact that I have no idea how much more I need to suffer. Am I half way through? Maybe I’m only at the beginning? Asking the people coming downhill doesn’t add any new information. All are amazed at the fact that I’ve gone trekking upmountain jungle alone and respond with an annoying “Don’t worry about it, it’s worth it” and a yet more annoying “You’re at the easy part, it only gets worse”. Those shadows of former humans - ghosts covered with exotic jungle colors of brown and green - their expressions telling the horror that they have faced. Two forces I’ve learned to know very well are having a mighty fistfight within me. One cries out for the mercy of going back downhill and the other laughs at this idiotic challenge that I randomly chose to go through. Unwillingly, I realize my body resuming the climb - pushing forward, mumbling something nasty in an undiscovered language. I hate the CatBa National Park. No Vietnamese view up on the mountain can make up for all this.

Alone. A familiar feeling, yet in Vietnam it comes with an extra twist. Unlike Thailand and Laos, I don’t feel comfortable here. Vietnam gives me the chills. If Lao people are gorgeous looking and express pure souls then most Vietnamese people are just plain ugly and act as con-men. It’s not as bad as I thought it might be, and once you adjust there’s really nothing to it, but riding my motorbike around the island and going up that endless trek I’ve come to know what it feels like to be alone and scared. It sometime seems to me that if I roll over and die, they would just take my wallet and move on. Maybe if I wouldn’t show up to return my bike, they would search for the bike instead of wondering about me. I know it’s just a bad generalization rule I’ve developed and that there are some good Vietnamese people out there. Yet, it’s a different feeling here, one that I’ve yet to confront.

Anarchy. I’ve signed up for a ferry ride to CatBa island in my hotel. After saying my goodbyes to Senay (who’s horror con-story in email about going back to Hanoi I read with complete shock), I waited patiently till 12:00 when I was escorted to a very filthy hotel where all the tourists were suppose to head out together. I’ve asked all I could find, western and Asian, about the ride we’re about to take. Is it going to CatBa Island? How long does it take? How long do I need to wait? Where in CatBa Island does it stop? No body knew anything, really! All the westerns were people who signed up to some dodgy 2-3 days out on Halong Bay and all have had the worst ride from Hanoi, not having any idea what’s going to happen. Around 13:30 an overfilled bus takes all the tired bunch to wait next to the ferry. Time goes by and we board the water-vessel, doubting its ability to sustain such heavy load. All I really wanted was just a 1 hour trip to CatBa, but I’ve spent the next 6 hours on the boat visiting the caves and the floating villages on Halong Bay. I seemed to be somewhat of an expert on the boat, since this was my second time around the place, and I guess I really didn’t mind that surprise tour. I had a relatively nice time with some Dutch guys who live in HongKong and a British-Indian couple. As long as you don’t have a schedule, as long as you don’t mind how much money you spend, as long as you’re not annoyed about not knowing what going to happen with you or about feeling scammed - you just might have a good time.

Hands showing me the size and a warm smile convinced me to try the first fish on my SouthAsia tour. I’ve had seafood - all sorts of bizarre and exotic seafood - but I’ve managed to not have fish my whole Thailand and Lao tour. There are several reasons for that strange behavior. There’s the long eating bone-examining process and the fact that Fish can mean anything from a huge Cat-fish to a small goldfish. But this woman, on some deserted beergarden out west on the island, offered me to catch my own fish out of the big fishlake just next to us. Fishing isn’t my thing, but I’m really good at watching other people do it. Turns out I’ve missed out. I loved that fish, the big fried fish that it was. Just thinking about it - my mouth begs for more. Together with a wonderful vegetable salad, rice, Hanoi Beer and the wonderful island view - it was one of my best meals here.

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