Showing posts with label Elouera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elouera. Show all posts

2023/11/07

Arizona (Ha Long Bay, Vietnam)

Welcome back dear reader, the lack of connectivity has thrown me somewhat. By the time you are reading this, I will be floating on another body of water. However, that is the future. Let's pretend we're Tony Abbott and live in the past. On second thought, no, let's just read on together.

Despite imbibing the rice wine last night, our sleep was not the pleasant slumber we had anticipated. Unlike the hotel, the arctic strength doona was safely locked in the cupboard. A sheet was the only protection we had from the air conditioning and it was not enough. I attempted to adjust the air con around 1:30am, dear reader. Unsuccessfully. Sometime later I switched it off. Or so I thought. By pushing what I believed was the ‘off’ button, I actually adjusted the air flow to the setting I had attempted some hours earlier. Sleep at last.

Sunrise on the bay.

Breakfast was the expected clash of cultures. I went straight for phò. It’s light, tasty and nutritious. The coffee was pre-made in a large metal jug and looking at it is as close as I’ll get. The tea jug still had the Lipton tags dangling from the top. Maybe juice, there was no water. My choice: watermelon, passionfruit or guava. Passionfruit it is. One sip evoked a trip down memory lane to my teenage Passiona drinking years, although without the fizz.

More sunrise.

With that, let's dispense with today's song title. Arizona by Mark Lindsay, a one hit wonder from 1969, was a classic summer song from my pre-teen beach days at Elouera (near Cronulla).

A quick change of footwear into my boots for the cave experience and it was down to Level 1 to get on the tender. Our group numbers 13, but there were just two of us willing to take on the largest cave in Ha Long Bay. Plus Tea, and some of the other passengers. And no, dear reader, the person accompanying me was not Jayne.

The cave.

The Sung Sot cave is a naturally formed cavern in the limestone and has been used for hundreds of years as a home to local fishermen, or as a place to shelter from bad weather. The walk was described as being very difficult, 700 very steep steps. It was nothing like it of course. The climb to the cave entrance was steep, but it was a well-maintained stairway. The relaxed pace and the break for a kodak moment ensured an easy passage to the mouth of the cave.

Apparently that is a koala on the column on the left.

The cave is massive with a naturally regulated temperature. There are the usual limestone formations, stalactites, stalagmites, columns, shawls and so on, but it is not a living cave. There is not a consistent water flow to ensure the continued growth of the features. The path is well trodden, reasonably even, level, and well-marked out with lights and railings. There are limestone structures that the more imaginative have identified as buddha or a horse’s head or a koala. I saw Gollum, not a koala, but hey, the place had a Lord of the Rings feel.

Lord of the Rings or Journey to the centre of the earth.

Soon enough we were back out into the heat and humidity and the gift shop. Perhaps gift stall is a better description. It sold a wide variety of goods from pearls to local red wine to shells and handbags. Then we made the not-so arduous trek down the stairs, back to the tender and on to ship, where Jayne was waiting.

The gift shop.

The next stop was the Ha Long Bay pearl farm. I could feel my credit card warming up in my pocket.

The Àu Co II, our floating home.

The pearl farm is quite a significant operation. Every one of the floats (pictured) is attached to a rope that holds cages of potential pearl bearing oysters. The success rate is about 30% which makes the process expensive and labour intensive. Of that 30%, only about 10%-20% are deemed worthy of jewellery. The rest are ground up to make pearl-based cosmetics, a very lucrative industry in Vietnam, where the ladies are so skin conscious. 

Pearls, pearls, pearls.

We were able to watch the pearl doctor seeding oysters. He selected an oyster that had something inserted between the two halves of the shell to keep it open and placed it onto a stand. The plug was removed and he used callipers to keep the shell open. With something that resembled a dental tool he picked up a piece of the red substance on a nearby board and rubbed it into parts of the oyster flesh. Then he placed a small core into the oyster and removed it from the stand ready to be placed back into the water for a pearl to hopefully develop. The process was fascinating. The oysters, depending on their stage of development are then returned to still or moving water. The more mature, stronger oysters are placed in the moving water where they can feed more freely.

The pearl doctor.

Surprisingly there was a pearl shop. I know, are you as shocked as I am, dear reader? Once again we were subjected to Vietnamese high pressure sales tactics. One assistant makes a bee-line for you and follows you around, pulling out any piece of jewellery you might linger over. I actually went into the shop with the intention of buying another pearl bracelet, but the offerings were no different to what I already own. Jayne looked at the black pearls for a pendant to match her earrings, but wasn’t sure the colour match was right. The assistant apologised for the poor range because a man was in yesterday and bought 9 black pearls for his daughters. One each. That really doesn’t bear thinking about.

Back on board, we found that a large contingent of our fellow passengers had disembarked as they were only on the 2 day-1 night programme. It was time for a four-course lunch of Vietnamese dishes and then a nap before our APT group plus six others set off in the tender to visit Cat Ba Island and the Viet Hai village. There were two ways to arrive at the village, once we had disembarked from the tender; oversized electric golf cart or bicycle. I was keen to cycle but the information sheet identified three steep hills and when I inquired, I was told they were so steep I would have to push the bike up the hill. I opted for the electric cart ride with Jayne, only to find the hills were neither steep nor long.

A wasps' nest at Ha Vie village.

The island is quite mountainous and 60% of it is national park. The endangered Langur is resident there, although we did not see one. The village is like so many in Vietnam, subsistence living, although tourism plays a role in this area. We walked around one of the local farms and were dropped at a place to rest where we could purchase drinks to help the local economy and then stopped at a fish massage establishment. Don’t let your imagination run away with you, dear reader. It was the fish that eat the dead skin from your feet. A few of our group bravely removed their shoes and socks and put their feet in the water, only to remove them just as quickly, once the fish arrived. It was quite amusing and many laughs were shared before we headed back to the ship.


The afternoon activity was a swim around the ship. The water temperature is in the zone at 28° but the thought of having to pack wet clothes for tomorrow’s departure ensured I stayed in my cabin until happy hour.

Rowing with his feet while squid fishing.

Tonight’s feast was a bbq. The pick of the plates was the squid. The steak not so much – very thin slices, way over-cooked before your very eyes. There were prawns on skewers, chicken and pork along with papaya salad, spring rolls, noodles and rice dishes. This was followed by a nightcap with other guests before we retreated to our cabin to sort out our bags, in preparation for our departure tomorrow.

Our table napkin for the last meal.



Until tomorrow (or when I have a reliable internet connection).




2019/04/21

Bombora (Hamilton Island)

Welcome to day three my dear reader. All the photos in this post were taken yesterday in the intermittent afternoon sun. It gave old Hammo an opportunity to show herself off a bit.

Looking down the hill at the marina
The pattern was set yesterday and we are adhering to it, at least for today. The Stone Curlews returned around dawn to serenade us. Oh, you don't know what a Stone Curlew sounds like my inquiring reader? Click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi1GX_VRaM0 I'm sure that will rectify the deficit in your knowledge of this Australian bird.

There was rain overnight, but today is proving the best to date. We had our breakfast in our room watching the fast moving clouds, occasional shower and the build up of people on the beach. 

Easter, it would appear, is not the time to travel to Hamilton Island. The weather is not ideal, well at least at this time, and it is very, very crowded. Perhaps the confluence of Easter and the Queensland school holidays has facilitated this, but all I know is that every restaurant we have tried to book has had nothing available. Or if they did it was at 8:30pm or later. As I am sure you realise my dedicated reader, I am turning 60 later this year and 8:30pm is my bed time - far too late to be entertaining dinner. Anyway eating that late will give you nightmares. We did have two restaurants organised for dinner, the Beach Club on our first night and Bommie tonight. (Hence today's title, Bombora by The Atlantics, a classic surf song from the '60s). Both were booked from Sydney two weeks ago. I'm supposed to be on a relaxing holiday - who thinks about booking dinner two weeks in advance?

When the tide goes out, it really goes out.


But I digress. Breakfast was lovely. We then continued in relaxation mode on the verandah - reading. Time for some activity. We walked the beach, thankfully the tide was at mid-point so there was plenty of sand. The crowds seemed a little smaller than yesterday, either that or the hordes of marauding, noisy children were amusing themselves with activities away from the beach. A wander into town supported the theory the children were not around. If it was the Pied Piper, I would happily pay the fee.



After calculating the wardrobe requirements for the remainder of our time, it became apparent I would be one shirt shy if we jagged a lunch or dinner reservation at the Golf Club or the like. Resort casual means a collar. Why not go all the way and insist on a tie as well. The fashion police are alive and well. A shopping expedition was incorporated into our morning walk and I am now the owner of a new Oakley shirt.

Glad I bought my reef shoes

Back at the resort, it's time to read on the verandah and contemplate the most serious problem for the day. What time to open the champagne? We have dinner at 6:30 tonight so the bubbles need to be moved forward.

Lunch is champagne and a charcuterie plate on the verandah, listening to the waves, background noise from the beach and rustling palms fronds as they sway in the breeze. If I close my eyes and ignore the sound of the palms I am transported back to my teenage years lying on Elouera or North Wollongong Beach being lulled to sleep by the waves, drowsing in and out of consciousness, thinking about life changing issues, like girls and sex and when I'll go and get some chips and a can of Passiona, the sun baking me brown. The only thing missing is the smell of coconut oil and the crackle of the loud speaker playing Crocodile Rock by Elton John. Ah the good old days. If I'd known then what I know now, I'd have been sitting in the shade under the kiosk verandah, covered with a towel avoiding the skin cancers I have cultivated so carefully over my lifetime.

The charcuterie plate was delightful; prosciutto, salami, grilled zucchini, eggplant, pickled onions, greens, sour dough and sun dried tomato relish. The champagne of course, was the highlight. The rain came and left again. The sun has returned and the tide is still slowly ebbing away. Perhaps time for a siesta before the next round of activity.

Skippy having an afternoon feed


Siesta time was interrupted by tonight's favoured restaurant calling to confirm our booking. Our 6:30 reservation is now 7:15 and ... you are aware, it is the degustation sir? ... yes, that's fine ... and of course we have a dress code: no thongs, no beach wear and no singlets ... of course, do you mind if I go commando? ... and one more thing sir, purred the British accent, only people carrying Queensland passports or photographs of Joh Bjelke-Petersen or Clive Palmer are welcome. Long live the the right wing and white shoe brigade! I'm not really sure why I'm dining here, it really doesn't suit me. The last restaurant to question me about a dress code missed out on my dollars. Yes, I do have a jacket and no I'm not wearing to suit you (see what I did there?) - that was Dallas, Texas. The dining post-mortem will be posted tomorrow.

Until then.




It was so then, still not sure about the high rise.