December 29, 2016

I take the night train back from Sapa.  It is a 4 hour drive to Ha Long Bay, through dusty towns lined with shops that all shout in loud red and yellow lettering.  What they are shouting I rarely know.

I board a chinese-style Junk that is somewhat faded, but still luxurious.  Fifteen other passengers are on the boat with me.  They put me, for some reason, in the best suite on the boat – taking up the entire back space of the second level.  I have a balcony on three sides of my room, and I can’t see anyone else when I sit at the little table on the balcony, just the view from the back of the boat.

The suite is also huge, at least by boat standards.  There is room on both sides of the king bed, and a small desk and TV in one corner.  The ceilings are vaulted to the height of almost two levels, with a Vietnamese silk chandelier hanging far above the bed.

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I just realized that I have stayed in the most romantic hotel rooms in my life either with a friend, an ex-boyfriend, or by myself.  WTF?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve stayed in some luxurious hotel rooms when I’ve traveled with boyfriends, but the ones that were stunning, “once-in-a-lifetime,” special have not been with romantic partners.  In the north of Thailand, when I stayed at the Four Seasons Tented Camp in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by an elephant sanctuary, I was with a buddy.  We laughed at the old-world romanticism of the clawfooted tub in the middle of our hard-wood floor, palatial “tent.”  We were not going to get any use out of that bathtub.  This past year, at the Sabi Sabi Earth Lodge in the private game reserve outside of Kruger National Park in South Africa, I was with my recent ex.  We had already discovered on that trip that no amount of romantic mise-en-scene was going to turn us back into lovers.

Romantic view from the back of my cabin…for one.

Fishing in Ha Long Bay

The lantern hanging in my cabin.

What’s up with that?  My next boyfriend is going to be forced into a few “once-in-a-lifetime” rooms so that I break this damn curse.  There needs to be sex the next time I walk into a fucking room and say “Wow.”  Be warned, Mr Next Boyfriend.  There will be immediate sex happening at that point.

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Romantic sunset…again, for one.

Sailing towards sunset.

A view of Ha Long Bay from above.

We have four meals on the junk, in a small dining room on the second level.  My seat (party of one) is at a table with a French couple, Dominique and Sebastian.   They are embarassed of their English, so we switch back and forth between French and English.  My French is worse than their English, but it gives me a chance to practice.  My vocabulary and verb tenses suck, but when I can figure out the words, my accent is pretty good.  There are a few times on the boat when I translate the English of the boat crew for them into French, which makes me inordinately proud.

Ha Long Bay is ridiculously beautiful, with karsts rising out of the ocean by the hundreds.  The sun sets between the cliff islands in broken oranges and red.

The karats and isles of Ha Long Bay.

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I’m not that guy who shrugs and says “Love will find me whenever, and if it doesn’t, I’m happy alone.”  Don’t get me wrong, I can be very happy alone.  Being alone centers me.  But alone-ness as a long term state of being isn’t the way that I want to live.

I’ve always known that I valued love over anything else, that I’ve always searched for “one of The Ones.”  Even when I wasn’t ready for it – when you probably didn’t want to be one of my ones.  I know I burned through a few feelings when I didn’t understand that I wasn’t ready.

I don’t picture myself the lone wanderer.  I love adventure, I love exploring, but I always want to turn to my side and grab someone’s hand to share the experience.  The feeling of wonder is one of my reasons for living, and sharing a feeling of wonder with someone that I care about is the best thing I’ve ever  experienced.  The wonder of the place, or the food, or the art, or the moment, is layered over by the sense of joy and wonder that this person chose you to be here with.  Travel means a lot more when you share it with someone.

After the overnight on the boat in Ha Long Bay, I spend one more day in Hanoi.  It isn’t a place of stunning landmarks.  The Temple of Literature is pretty.  The Old Quarter is fascinating, but not because it looks old or like an “Old Quarter” normally does.  It is a warren of small streets where old buildings have been torn down or refaced for new ugly ones.  Thousands of shoebox storefronts compete with thousands of cars and motorbikes for attention.

The Ho Chi Minh complex is interesting in a Communist propaganda sort of way.  I definitely had an odd moment as I’m the only white guy (and probably one of the only Americans) filing past the tomb of Ho Chi Minh.  The embalmed body of the leader lies state, under a dim glow.  Kids in military dress uniform make sure that the line stays straight and quiet.  I have an odd moment of discomfort as I think about my father fighting in the Vietnam War against this man.  And the entire complex is dedicated to the Vietnam version of Ho Chi Minh’s story – largely his rebellion against the French colonists.  The American War doesn’t seem to be brought up as much, a cultural similarity they share with us.  We don’t bring it up because we lost, they don’t bring it up because…they ended up more like us than they intended?  And because they are assimilating into the world economy and global tourism.

Vietnam doesn’t feel Communist in the same way that the divided East Berlin did, but only by a matter of degree.  There are the posters with the raised fists of workers.  In public places like this, the propaganda of the past lives in the present.  But Hanoi also hurtles forward into the future, with the smog of a million motorbikes and commerce on every sidewalk.  Though most of us understand the basic ideas of Communism, or at least what we remember from what we were taught in school, it’s hard to align those values with the ferocious and loud capitalism of this bustling Asian city.

I’m ready to meet up with Angel.  Though I suddenly just got a bit nervous.  The coming moment has a weight to it.  It feels like a beginning.

The sun finally sets behind the karsts.