We headed to our
final stop in Vietnam; right in the north is the capital Hanoi.
Hanoi is a super
ramo idiot town, where walking from A to B is made incredibly difficult by the
fact that the pavement is not allocated to walking. Instead pedestrians must
walk along the road with the minimal cars and ample mopeds weaving in and out
of women and children as they hustle about to go and get their next awful meal
– probably chicken feet covered in pork semen wrapped up in a squids scrotum,
or something equally unappetising to anyone who shits sitting down.
The streets of
Hanoi are quite obvious, I realise that that doesn’t make a lot of sense but
bear with me. Each street sells something different which makes them easily
identifiable and means that if you want something specific you know where to go.
If you were to go do a Sunday Big Shop however you would be in a lot of
trouble.
Specific areas
include: The men’s clothes area, the women’s clothes area, the children’s
clothes area, the children’s toys area, the baby products area, the bank area,
the cigarette corner, the sunglasses area, the hairdressers area, the shoes
area, the flip-flop area, the motorbike parts area and the door locks and
handles area. There are more areas but I suspect you get the idea.
Still though
within these areas no one shop is different from the other, they all have
exactly the same stock and this has been true across Asia and Mexico. What is
the USP here? What is Vietnamese for “diversify”? How can I make a street
vendor realise that if I said “no” the first man selling a shoe shine for my
trainers that 10 more vendors down the line I still down want (or need) my
trainers polished?!
To top off
Vietnam before flying to Bangkok we had one last trip planned to Ha Long bay. A
soup of a billion islands or so in the sea. If you have ever seen the Vietnam
Top Gear episode then it’s the end but in the water.
To do this we
went on the “Castaway Tour” organised by one of the hostels which promised to
be a fun filled romp amongst the islands. After a 4 hour bus we boarded a boat
for another 4 hours. As the boat set off a few ground rules were set for the
boat.
“Rule #1: No
drinking with your right hand. If you do and someone shouts buffalo then you
have to neck your drink.”
Oh right, I
thought, what a funny joke and it’s one of those trips. I’ve never really been
a fan of this sort of drinking game; it always seems to me that the people who
are most keen to play are also the ones who seek attention by getting caught
the most and then going “oh what, me? Oh well” with a stupid look on their face
saying “silly me, I guessed have to drink this drink now” and then only take
like a couple of sips. Gay douchebags. The lack of people actually downing
their drink was pitiful, especially considering they were serving drinks in
such tiny cups filled with ice.
“Rule #2: You
cannot say the word T-E-N. If you say the word T-E-N then you must do T-E-N
press-ups”
How this improved
the speed of drinking and getting people drunk, I don’t know? nether the less
this was quite a funny rule in hindsight
“Rule #3: You
cannot say the word M-I-N-E. If you say the word M-I-N-E you must do T-E-N
press-ups.
Similar to Rule
#2, but a welcome addition.
Those were the rules
so once the guide stop talking we hit the bar (LOL) on the boat, 3 for 2
drinks, and to avoid getting caught in the games we utilised our natural left
handedness and used words like TENt and MINEfield.
The group got
settled and were mingling but before people could get too acquainted and have too
much of a laugh everyone was called upstairs for some forced fun, generic
ice-breaker shit that everybody hates. Whats your name? Where are you from?
Tell us a fact about yourself.
It went round in
a circle as people told us where they were from in as broad a sense as
“Australia” and “England”. The facts were also rather tame with examples like
“this is my sister”, “my favorite colour is orange”, “I am a homosexual” and
“I’m an alcoholic (in a jokey sense)”.
Hang on a second…
everyone looked round at each other… did that guy actually say he was gay, and
is he gay? He said it so nonchalant that it could be a joke or that he is very
comfortable. I would later refer to this man as “Batty Twat” because he was an
idiot.
After a swim en
route we were about to arrive at our beach residence for the next two nights
situated on one the numerous islands, but not before more forced fun. Our guide
(still can’t remember his name) said that the group from the day before were
already on the island and would be planning a welcome for us so we should do
the same on the boat.
The ideas were
flying; “everyone do a moony” one person said, “Gangnam style” said another,
“sex positions” said a third. Finally the group settled on a human pyramid…
oooooh what a great idea. Except there were 40 of us. I’ve never seen anyone
even attempt one so big on land let alone of a boat. Low and behold after 12
people were involved there was no space so me and Jack sat at the side and
leant into make the pyramid look more slopey.
To top it off the
other group were brilliant and didn’t even plan anything, well they sort of
hid, so they completely did us as our pyramid was all for nothing.
On the island the
drinking continued.
It continued much later for many others including Batty Twat who had unfortunately ended up in our hut along with 8 or so others. His bed was located around my head and next to the side entrance allowing him to enter and leave his domain approximately every 5 minutes, I guess to seek attention and be a bell end, making a racket and trying to talk to people.
It continued much later for many others including Batty Twat who had unfortunately ended up in our hut along with 8 or so others. His bed was located around my head and next to the side entrance allowing him to enter and leave his domain approximately every 5 minutes, I guess to seek attention and be a bell end, making a racket and trying to talk to people.
The next morning
the group arose and one of the camp called “ladyboy”; due to a story he told
about a night in Thailand, asked “what happened to my mosquito net." It had
been completely ripped from the 8 foot ceiling… oh look Batty Twat was using it
as a pillow.
Batty Twat also
complained about how there was mud on his bed and that people had been walking
on it, when I told him that he had caused it all himself, he ignored me and
carried on being a dick. Jack made sure that every time he entered the hut he was sure
to wipe his shoes all over it from then on. It was completely coated by the end
(LOL)
That day was a
bit wasted really, I went wakeboarding and stood up for approximately 3
seconds, but enough to get a picture making look like I’m a pro. I asked Jack
if he wanted to go wakeboarding and he said “Do I Fuck”.
In the afternoon
we went kayaking for about 2 hours, shattering and insightful. All the floating
fishing huts had dogs on, as if they expected you to board and steal the
copious plastic baskets of shite. Also underwater were tied down plastic boxes
of mold, like tones of them.
That night was
very subdued with the next group arriving being quite sparse in number. A mass
drinking game with 50 people was alright and got everyone involved but the
guides were being a bit gay asking for absolute silence as they took their
turns, no one cares lads just get on with it.
Anyhow we left
the islands, it was a good trip and everyone was shattered, myself included.
From too much alcohol and far far far too many press-ups.
x
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