Halong Bay: Cruising in a Painting

text and some photos by Ino Manalo

view of Halong bay from the movie, Indochine

Shots from Indochine

                                                                                          

                                                                                

There is a scene from a famous film where a couple evades the turmoil of their country by taking a boat trip through a fascinating archipelago. For countless hours, the lovers lie ensconced in their vessel as it glides past a fairyland of forest-covered peaks rising from the sea.

The fantastic setting for this unforgettable episode is actually Halong Bay in the northern Vietnamese province of Quang Ninh, an easy two to three hour ride from Hanoi. We arranged our cruise through our hotel in the capital. Since we had the good fortune of staying in an Inter-Continental, I expected that every detail of this marine experience would be carefully organized. It turns out that no one had looked into the matter of rest stops. The establishment where our driver chose to break our journey was not the most pleasant. It had a wooden shed in the backyard which served as the toilet! One would think that surely the folks at the Inter-Continental in Hanoi would be more meticulous about the itineraries of the tour packages which they offered their guests.

The pier where we boarded our boat was not much better. It was crowded, hot, and chaotic. I had no choice but to shrug this off – what else would a busy tropical port be like? Entering our boat, I caught a glimpse of a faint line of irregular forms, hovering on the faraway horizon. They would turn out to be the fabled isles that I had seen in the film.

As we drew closer, I began to see what had attracted so many others before me. I don’t know exactly what it is about this view of countless islands in all shapes and sizes which is so captivating.  In fact, the scenery was truly bewitching. Perhaps it is because the islands stand at different distances so that some are rendered darker or clearer while others are only blurred silhouettes. Chinese artworks come to mind with their varying areas of bold brush strokes and soft washes. Is part of the appeal the sense that one is lost in painting?

In the case of Halong, the experience is heightened by the fact that we were surrounded by a wide, dark sea. Every curve of peak is doubled, mirrored in a magical realm which appears or disappears according to the whims of the light.

The whole area – about 400 square kilometers – has been inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List. The inscription made special mention of the rich biodiversity with about a 1000 species of fish as well as a range of mammals, reptiles, and birds. The islands make up what is referred to as a karst landscape. Into this category falls the terrain of places like Guilin in Southern China or even our very own Chocolate Hills in Bohol. To be precise, Halong is more correctly described as a drowned karst landscape because of its marine setting. In this way it may be compared with Phang Nga in Thailand or El Nido in Palawan.

There are about 1,600 islands in the Bay most of which are uninhabitable because of the steepness of their slopes. We sailed past these emerald mounds anchored in celadon waters for what seemed like hours. Some of the mounds looked like immense stallions grazing in a field of grass. Others looked like castles with half-ruined turrets overgrown by vines. Still others reminded me of the vista from Camp Lookout in the hills behind Dumaguete. There a friend had observed that the clouds were pretending to be islands.

In Halong, time takes a nap on a chair on the deck. No one really talks. The mind is stilled.

Then the captain stopped the engines, suggesting a swim. Only my niece, Mia, took up his invitation. She dove into the sea  -  a plain of viridian glass. I had not quite noticed  -  so enveloped was I by the quiet -  that the sea had become completely flat. There were no waves. The islands had formed a wall that kept the winds and the rest of the world away. We were in a pond. Now that I look back, I wish that I had just jumped in myself. It would have been bliss. Where else can we come upon a pool in the middle of the ocean?

Our boat was a modest affair. There were no cabins – just a large hall that functioned as a dining room. The meal that was served was not fancy. There was fried fish, green sprouts quickly sautéed in garlic, something that was certainly a lumpia, boiled shrimps. We wiped our plates clean.  The freshness and the proximity of the sea made everything so sweet.

A friend who is a travel expert tells me that one can book more elaborate vessels. I have seen pictures of boats which boast of bedrooms that have canopies, carpets, and mood lighting. Some voyages offer well-trained chefs as well as butlers at one’s beck and call. I suppose this can be charming too. Yet how much more pampering does one need when there is this view? I imagine that the scenery will reveal itself just as languorously if one is sitting in plush quarters as when one is in a more spartan chamber.  

At one point, we stopped to visit a floating fish stall. We alighted onto a large wooden platform adrift on the Bay. There were several pens which were really just square openings that revealed nets set in the warm waters. The pens were brimming with sea-life, squirming and splashing about.  It seemed a pity to think that someone could actually point to any of these denizens of the deep and the poor creature would be caught, thrown into a pot and then readied for a fine meal. For a few moments I toyed with the idea of paying the fishermen to let their wards all go. Surely such an act would earn me a place in heaven.

Later on we docked to see a cave. We had to climb a steep path that led up the slopes to enter into the darkness which was actually not so dark. Colored lights had been installed. The caverns looked like a Las Vegas set. Stalagmites became Christmas trees and stalactites became chandeliers. Perhaps entertainers dressed as mermaids and mermen would appear at any minute. We fled back to our boat only to be greeted by a dolphin in the middle of the mountain path, its steel mouth ready to receive our offerings of trash before we were allowed to pass.

As we pulled out of the harbor I spied a huge sign – it was the emblem of the UNESCO World Heritage List. It saddened me when I thought about how it would have been better if Halong Bay’s inscription on this prestigious list were celebrated not with such a prominent marker but with the pristine quality of the environment. When one is presented with so much natural beauty, why is there a compulsion to add another metal dolphin, another cement bench in the shape of a log?

I suppose one should still be thankful. After all, the islands were not covered with billboards. The dolphin cans kept the trails free from trash and the caverns had their own bizarre charm. What’s a little neon light when one can take refuge in such sublime scenery?

During our return trip, our crew brought out some souvenirs to sell. I was actually interested in the way that our whole journey had been choreographed. Clearly, someone had studied the schedule carefully and worked out what should make up the standard trip. There was the moist towel offered when you entered the boat, then the initial cruise, stops at the fish stall and the cave, and the pause for a dip followed by a simple but delicious lunch. At the end came the time for souvenirs.

 I saw fans and pearls, lace doilies and t-shirts. The products were well-fashioned. I noted a wide selection of art works. A number portrayed the Bay. I had thought to myself: should I complete the circle and return from my cruise in the heart of a painting with an actual painting in hand?

I looked at the seascapes which were swirling by. I smiled at the seller and then put away my wallet.  I decided that I would just have to make do with the Halong Bay shimmering in my memory.