A tribe of lazy looking goats lounged about the dusty road, unperturbed by the scooters which skidded around them. They sunned themselves and gave me stares as gruff as their pointy beards. The road wound its way steeply up before sloping down, the mountains raising themselves around me, almost protectively, cutting off my view of the sea and wrapping me in tranquil isolation. I felt beautifully cut off from the world. Although I appreciated this beauty much less when I realised I was also cut off from internet access. My isolation was achieved.
I left the dusty road, descending into a cosy path, enjoying the feel of the sun’s great power. Before long I came to a staircase which led directly upwards into the mouth of a cave. I was staring at the entrance to Hong quan Y.
Hong quan Y was formerly used as a secret Vietnamese military hospital back when the Americans were bombing the hell out of North Vietnam. Being hidden away inside an island mountain it was perfectly bomb proof. Rectangle passages ran through the mountain. Box shaped rooms like prison cells held waxworks showing what would have taken place 50 years ago. One branch of the main passage opened up into an unconverted cavern with rock shaped like the moon’s surface and dripping with stalactites. The huge hollowed out space connected multiple passages. Part hospital. Part cave. Hong quan Y was like something out of a sci-fi movie.
The grand and frequent movement of my travel may have halted, but it hasn’t stopped me exploring new places and learning more about Vietnam’s history. This is travel the way I like it.
I emerged from the back entrance of the cave and walked down another staircase, looking out over jungle and milky green streams. This was Cat Ba island. An enormous spread of mountains and gumpy hills cloaked in boisterous greenery. Somewhere there was even a town, though I hadn’t seen it yet.
My current hostel – the Cat Ba Buffalo Hostel – is the most luxurious hostel I’ve stayed in yet. I can’t see it being beaten by anything… 5 pounds a night and you get a free buffet breakfast thrown in. This on top of the pool and my dorm room which is the fanciest of dorms I’ve encountered. The beds are curtained and comfortable, equipped with shelves and plug sockets right by my pillow. And arguably the most important: a compartment-ed shower and not some dirty wet room where you have to inspect the floor every time you enter in case you get your socks wet. Forget the rest of Vietnam. Forget the rest of my travels. Why don’t I just stay here for a year?
Now I returned to this marvelous home-base of luxurious isolation. The staff were giving out free beer between 7pm and 8pm – just another of their many astonishing perks. I glugged the free beer with the other members of my dorm. Jack – a Canadian; Estelle and Sunny – a British couple who met while backpacking in Thailand, and are now faced with the difficult dilemma of dealing with their diverging itineraries.
I met another couple who have been moving in the opposite direction to me, making their way up from South Vietnam. They told me about the beaches of the south. Something I have clearly been missing out on big time. Fuck the beaches of the south.
Estelle lamented that she missed her routine – going to the gym every day after work in the UK. I listened intently as I ate delicious beef noodles to line my stomach before it was overcome from the high volume of alcohol that was being emptied into it.
Getting entangled in an overcrowded game of cards – which involved just as much drinking as it did players – led me into conversation with a guy named William: fresh from Nepal. He was there for three whole months, he told me. And so, I heard about the wonders of volunteering in Nepal while concentrating on not falling victim to the machinations of the other cards players who were always looking for reasons to make one drink.
The night had begun so early that the evening felt endless, and in the middle of nowhere time seemed to stand still. The sense of possibility returned to me powerfully. I suddenly felt unstuck. I should be heading south, I thought… I could be exploring south Vietnam… I could leave Vietnam and go somewhere else… I could go to Nepal… I should leave this island and go running out into the world. But a more powerful voice told me to stay put. You’ve finally found somewhere remote… when did you last experience so much peace? Do you really want to go rushing off this island when you’ve only just found it? DO YOU?
I thought about Estell telling me about her routine after work. That’s what I’ve been missing. My routine. I was married to it. And now I realised, that while I’ve only been away a little over a month, I’ve always been unconsciously craving my routine, trying to get it back even when it goes against the flow of travelling. Perhaps that is why your travels have FAILED! I thought.
But my travels hadn’t failed. Far from it. I was playing foosball with Jack the Canadian. Not against him, but with him. We played against Sunny and Estelle and we were victorious. Then one of the hostel employees started freely giving out shots of brown poison and a complementary coach rolled up to bring us to the town.
The town didn’t appear to be anything more than a lively street upon the waterfront, lit by towering hotel blocks. I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anything else. The bar we entered played western tunes from the early 2010s. Completely free of charge, the bartenders poured liquor directly from bottles straight into our thirsty mouths. All we had to do was lean forwards over the counter, and perhaps open wide if they didn’t immediately get the message. It was almost like an automated service. We danced to the out-of-date music and I wondered why anybody was bothering to buy drinks at all. Cat Ba Rocks.
Of course, I’ve always got to end up doing something stupid, and tonight I thought how lovely it would be to have a nice tipsy walk back to the hostel. So rather than wait for the coach I set out on a night walk – something I find hard to resist.
All was calm at first. The mountains were magnificently foreboding. They made the night blacker than anything, cloaking me in thick island darkness. But in the bliss and beauty of the night walk, the sound of lapping water on the beach and the peace of the pitch black, I became complacent. When I finally realised I was going the wrong way and checked google maps, I’d gone almost 45 minutes in the wrong direction…
I very hurriedly began to retrace my steps. But I couldn’t find the damn road I needed and had to take a longer route… suddenly the night did not seem so peaceful as it did eerie. My new path took me further inland… into the utter desolation of night. I felt deeply uneasy. I also felt little. Tiny. Then came the dogs…
They barked and howled. The sounds came from my left and my right. They came from behind me and in front of me. I hoped they were people’s pets. Pets that were chained up… They were not. Shadows came out into the middle of the road, moving on all fours. I began to tremble as I moved around them. I could not see their faces but I could imagine them. The relentless snarling made that easy enough. My head grew hot with fear. I kept hurrying around them but there were always more. I never hated dogs like I did then. I hated them more than anything. I was trapped on my path, too scared to turn back, having nowhere to go even if I did.
When I suddenly realised I was on the same street as the Buffalo Hostel, and could see the lights in the near distance, I could have died with happiness. All this time thinking I’d found ultimate peace just to have my nerves rocked senseless by the Cat Ba.
FUCK the Cat Ba…
