Vietnam

Previous post in this series here.

Following the whistle stop tour of Sapa, and subsequently getting very confused attempting to find our bus back, we arrived back in Hanoi  and were dropped off by the side of a busy bypass at 3am. Continuing the theme of the holiday (being always lost), we used gut instinct to locate our hostel (and were fortunately correct) and despite our lack of reservation, the hostel were kind enough to let us crash in their media room before our 8am pick up to Ha Long Bay which did result in a rather uncomfortable night, or what remained of it, with several of us sprawled across the limited selection of sofas on offer. The cumulative total of sleep experienced  over the last few days were definitely taking their toll on me.

The journey to Ha Long Bay was another experience in itself as is often the case with travelling through Asia. Our cramped little minibus of backpackers served as leg 1 of the journey, what I had not prepared for was the 3 subsequent legs it took alternating from boat to bus and back to boat in a continuing series of deterioration in transport quality all to reach our final destination: Monkey Island.

Now I’m a nerd, everyone knows that, and growing up I was obsessed with the Monkey Island videogame series, so imagine my childlike excitement when someone told me I was going somewhere called Monkey Island. Everything from the dodgy boat landing in high winds, winding overgrown path up to the view point, to the somewhat dilapidated accommodation I was able to connect somehow with that game and it felt like I had some private joke that no one else would understand and they’d accuse me of being a bit weird for thinking; but I enjoyed it anyway.

Yes, there were monkeys on Monkey Island

The excursion to Ha Long Bay was a nice change of pace where everything from food to activities had been arranged for us and we could take a bit of a breather and planning to make the most of it I bought a bottle of rum off the bar ready for the first trip out kayaking around the bay. I know I won’t be the only one, but I behave very differently on holiday than I do back home. At home I’m the sensible, quiet one, but when I’m backpacking and completely out of my comfort zone I can forget that persona and pretend to be someone entirely different; someone that looking back I wish I could be more often, like the someone who when everyone else is sat around being awkward and not talking to each other after being told that we’re allowed to go swimming off the boat climbs up on to the railing of the upper deck and dives straight in before anyone else has even dipped their toes in (in hindsight though that water was disgusting!). The spot we were swimming in was also where it had been advertised that we could go cliff jumping much to the encouragement of the hostel staff on the boat with us and the discouragement of the signage on the rocks explicitly warning against diving from the cliffs. I was determined though, and after circling the rock trying to find a way up, and using some bouldering techniques from back home, I was stood at the edge of the 12m drop overlooking the water and the boat full of people about ready to shit myself in fear.

12m is a hell of a jump, it’s about high enough that you realise you’re falling. That might sound stupid but what I mean is that it’s a big enough height that there’s a significant delay between jumping and hitting the water and its in that time that it all catches up with you and you start to wonder what on earth you are doing; then you hit the water and it’s the most exhilarating feeling in the world and you’ve never felt freer in your life knowing that you’re surrounded by this incredible world heritage site with not a care in the world (other than your sliced up foot from the rocks as you missed the talk on the boat where they mentioned they provided rubber shoes).

I have this mentally with photography where I want the hard to get photos, the ones no one else can get. But part of that comes from the experiences too. My photos have meaning to me and I want the photos that when I look back I don’t just think “oh that was pretty” but am instead overcome with memories of incredible moments and experiences tied to those photos so sometimes you’ve just got to let loose. I’ll always try to get the photos I want but I won’t pass on the other opportunities and experiences too; like throwing myself in to the water from a cliff, or going skinny dipping in the middle of the night, or playing volleyball naked on the beach after your clothes get stolen from the subsequent skinny dipping. Because now, whenever I look back on this photo of Monkey Island, I can’t help but smile and laugh at all the stupid stuff I did there.