Back to China, onwards to Vietnam

All Visaed up, back we go to China via Shenzen and on to Guangzhou to pick up a train to the island of Hainan off the south coast. An unscheduled stop in Guangzhou due to ticket shortages led to a dingy, windowless room and a night of KFC, nasty people and rain. Bliss.

Finally making it to Hainan we took the train to the southern tip of the island after crossing the straits on the train that was first shunted onto a boat. Oddness. Sanya is a bit of a tourist trap with overdeveloped beaches aimed at tourists from the mainland and Russia, handy enough because we could order stuff and ask for the bill in Russian but a pain when the entire tout population of the island chases after you with shouts of "Drastvutye". Picked up a car for the first few days to explore the coast, no rules-of-the-road or signposts hindered progress somewhat but we did a bit although our dream of surfing on China's best surf beaches were quashed by a timely typhoon. Fantastic waves but a tad out of our league. After a relaxing week of sunburn, burgers and sposiba-sposiba, off we headed to Haikou (pronounced High-Coe) on the north of the island to pick up a boat back to the mainland. A night in Haikou turned out to be a blessing. Cute little hostel with pool, pingpong, DVDs, good grub and a gorgeous if slightly bickering pairing of a dalmation and something approximating a basset hound.

After a single night in Haikou we headed off to the ferry port to get the boat to Beihai. The simple task of ticket buying and boat boarding turned out to be a tad more complicated than we thought. Ticket counter was easy enough, gesticulating and pointing did the job as usual. We were then pursued by random-man-in-white-shirt-who-likes-shouting (a constant fixture in Asia when you're trying to do something, we'll call him "RMIWSWLS") who tried to get us on a bus. Eh, no thanks buddy. After joining a queue to a boat we eventually realised this bus was to the other side of the ferry terminal where we'd be getting on a different boat. Clear as mud. Off we went, watching groups line up and board while people milled around, spitting, smoking and dozing. When it came to our turn we made a move to the departure gate, only for the RMIWSWLS with the megaphone to start barking orders in Chinese, instigating a rush of bodies to the ticket window and a lot of shouting, banging on glass and general mayhem. Boat cancelled? Ferry full? World ending? Who knew.

Eventually the brave Fi makes a move and tries to ask RMIWSWLS what's going on. He looks horrified at our mere presence during this mayhem (we were the only non-Asians there and obviously hadn't a clue what was transpiring) and proceeds to drag Fi through the melee into the caged ticket office, leaving Seamus guarding the bags and hoping the growing riot doesn't extend his way. The shouting only gets louder, at this point a crazed tour group leader is whacking her metal flag off the glass and screaming, and the frenzied crowd watch in disgust as the RMIWSWLS scribbles something on our tickets and takes us through the back door and directs us onto the earlier, already fully loaded boat. Bless his heart, he took enough pity on us to find us what was probably the only free cabin (post-analysing this we realised that no normal people travel without a tour group in China and fitting thirty people into our two man tin can cabin might have been a tad tricky). I didn't envy him the return walk into the terminal to deal with the mob but he kept his cool through it all, there's a reason he was appointed as RMIWSWLS in charge of passenger boarding.

Safely ensconced in our cabin, we tracked down the essentials in the tiny shop. The options extended to vacuum packed mystery meat in mystery sauce, noodle tubs and beer. The beer and noodles won. A makeshift seasickness wristband for Seamus saved the day (TOP TIP- The pressure on the front of the wrist from an inverted watch acts like the usual band on the acupressure point that calms the nausea)

We awoke at dawn on the final approach into Beihai harbour. Slightly rested and still a bit shaken after the adventure of boarding. Departing we followed the crowd into a small terminal building where some darling staff helped us find bus tickets to Dong Xing (pronounced Dong Ching) on the border with Vietnam. 3 hours later and we're in a bright yellow milkcart taking us from the station in Dong Xing to the Border Crossing over a narrow brigde into Mong Cai, Vietnam. The usual mess of queues, forms, checks, double checks, stamps and accusing glares from border guards marks our arrival. They must have forgotten the banners, balloons and streamers.

A negotiation with some cheery taxi drivers left us with the option of spending a fortune on aircon taxi to Halong City further down the coast, a 6(ish) hour bus journey, or our initial plan of staying for a night and getting a high-speed boat down the coast where we would eventually be meeting Paddy. The option involving a bed, food and pleasant boat journey won the day. A guesthouse near the bus station welcomed our custom with the expected greeting of giggles and confusion. Boat tickets sorted and chinese/Vietnamese mix border food hunted and paid for, we settled in to one of our many nights in limbo. Not quite where we want to be or where we thought we'd end up, just another step in the journey.

The morning brought us to a bus which would then bring us to our high-speed, high-tech hydrofoil boat which would whizz us down the beautiful coast to Halong Bay. As they loaded us on to an overcrowded old timber tub we weren't in the least bit surprised. A rough calculation and we figured it would take 10 hours to make the 70km trip, but the woman perched on the bow with a pink petalled face mask offered us mandarines and mystery dried fruit, so it's not all bad. After 40 minutes of chugging into the open ocean we were greeted by the sight of a hydroil, raising itself supremely over the waves as it sped towards us, and as it dropped speed and settled it's hull onto the water we took part in a game of throw the bags and passengers from one rocking boat onto another. Some things just can't be done the easy way.

We sped into Halong City on the edge of the UNESCO World Heritage Site that is the karst limestone islands, bays and inlets of Halong Bay. 1,969 island and nearly as many beaches frame and shelter the island of Cat Ba, Quan Lan and a couple of other inhabited islands in the area. Halong City was enjoying the first day of its annual Carnaval as our boat docked and we made our way on to the pier. We put off the trip to Cat Ba island for a couple of days to soak up the noise, energy, parades and fireworks as this huge city went slightly nuts and partied underneath our harbour-view balcony. Popcorn, Pho and Fishy(photos will come later) all entered our lives as we alternated between trying to find a boat to CatBa, to meet up with Paddy, and watching the great and good of Halong show off their floats, dance moves and costumes.

Come Monday the party was definitely over, the stages and pontoons were wiped away, unveiling the "grimy city" the guidebooks had warned us off. Still enjoying the initial colourful taste of Halong we made our way to Cat Hai on another taxi-boat-ferry-bus adventure that brought us in to Cat Ba town to soak up the beach and party atmosphere as promised.

Costa del Sol in the 1970s was the final judgement. The great and not so good of Vietnam descended en masse to celebrate Liberation Day and Labour Day in quick succession. After booking into a hotel for 2 days we were all booted out after the first night when the charming hotelier decided to accept a more expensive booking over our own. Our newly formed trio was advised that you can rent tents on the beach, take a flying leap if you will. We eventually found a passable guesthouse that would put us up for triple the usual rate and bless us with 6th floor rooms and no lift. Oh my aching thighs.

Cat Ba has little to offer beyond a couple of half-decent restaurants and a free pool table with cheap ales. The assortment of once serene beaches is marred by imposing facilities buildings, touts, umbrellas, Christmas lights and the usual tools of the trade for over-eager tourism development types. Organising a tour out to the bay and getting scammed for as many dollars as you have available are an automatic combination. We opted to hire a couple of kayaks and explore the bay on our own terms. Packed lunches, a cartoon map and lots of paddling later and we found ourselves travelling under huge stone arches, exploring tiny bays between the towering limestone formations and poking around in the rubbish and detritus that marks high tide on the random spits and beaches we came across (UNESCO might want to note that). Tourist boats gawped as we crossed the bay, avoiding the hype and bites of Monkey Island and the other oft-frequented tourist traps. There's nothing like a Tour Group to ruin the sanctity and peace of an otherwise beautiful scene. After 4 hours of paddling we eventually returned to the floating fishing village and gingerly stepped onto dry land. Sore arms, cramped legs and damp clothes, all well-earned with cheesy photos to match.

After a few too many overpriced meals, overpriced rooms and ridiculously early mornings precipitated by noisy Vietnamese visitors, we arranged for another hydrofoil to Hai Phong on the mainland where we would board a train to Hanoi where burgers, lakes, museums and a decidedly waxy Ho Chi Minh waited eagerly for our arrival. The PaddyFiMoose machine never stops turning, never loses will, and never passes up the opportunity to hunt out a bargain room with a big TV for the football and a mini-fridge.