With my precarious sleeping position, it wasn’t too hard to get up early and try and catch the sunrise. Much to my dismay, it was too misty, once again, for a proper sunrise. I tried getting back to sleep, but that proved difficult, even with my handy Virgin Airline provided sleep mask.
Our first stop of the day was Cat Ba, to drop off the American’s and Australian. I thought we might have some time to explore the island, but sadly we did not. The boat was loaded up with a few fresh souls – Vietnamese by the looks of them. We headed back to Halong City, and sat for too long at the terminal, once again, waiting to go for lunch.
Lunch was quick, and basic. I ate with Lynette and Li Sa, then we got back on our bus and made our way back to Hanoi. An uneventful journey, save for the aftermath of an accident we rolled by. A motorbike stood perfectly erect, wedged under a dump truck. Someone, police perhaps, used pink chalk to trace a few items on the ground, including a strewn bicycle and a handbag. No sign of the riders, but hopefully things weren’t as bad as they looked like they might be.
I had some hours to kill in Hanoi, so, after saying goodbye to Henri, and “see you later” to Lynette and Li Sa, who I figured I’d see on the train to Sapa, I dropped my bag off at the hotel, and went in search of a book. No luck getting a decent trade on my book, so I gave up, figuring I’d stick solely with the not-so-great book I was currently reading. As I headed back to the hotel, one of the fellows selling books on the street offered me a selection from his box of photocopied books. I bargained him down on a copy of Catch 22, which was great – even though I’ve got even more to weigh down my new bag now.
One of the guys at the hotel took me to the train station on his motorcycle. Crazy driver, but I arrived in one piece. Sat in the train station for a bit, but no sign of anyone from the Halong trip. Enough people filed past, that I assumed the train had arrived, so I grabbed my bags and found my spot. It took a while for others to join me in the sleeping car, but they were all Vietnamese, and only one, an older lady, spoke any English. She was a music teacher, and proceeded to pull out her video camera and show me a performance of her on guitar in some Hanoi bar. I pressed the camera to my ear, but it was pretty difficult to hear. She told me I had to come see her at the bar when I was back in Hanoi.
The sleeper cars were more similar to the European sleepers, with a high third berth (although these had ample bars to protect one from falling to one’s death or serious injury). Thankfully I was in the middle berth, so I didn’t have to worry too much anyhow. Unlike the beds on the European sleepers, the mattresses here were frighteningly thin. I may have been sleeping on a tabletop. That said, I slept pretty well. I think I’ve inherited my father’s ability to sleep anywhere.
