Cruising into paradise
There are certain occasions when cruising and boat travel comes into their own and yesterday was one. In planning my trip a friend advised that I should not miss Ha Long Bay, a world heritage site and he was right.
My day started with my customary brush with authority. As I made my way to the Finance Officer I wondered what difficulty he could conceivably make for for paying for a lithograph I had purchased and settling my bill to date. He found one. I now have a simple retaliatory technique. Whenever I encounter a tank block I cut out an item of cruise expenditure. This is not always easy as its inclusive but I cancelled my hair dressing appointment.
Having now nothing to do Jeeves San, my oriental butler, suggested I go to the lecture on China which somehow I missed on the daily schedule. Once again this was thought provoking. The lecturer argued that, whilst China does not have western democratic values, government is on the Confucian principle of for the people not preferred groupings or lobbyists. It was interesting too that despite the agrarian reforms that caused famine and 30 million deaths and the terror of the Red Guards, Mao Tse Tung still has his statue in Tiananmen Square. Contrast Franco who has been airbrushed from Madrid.
On returning to my cabin I saw a most beautiful site of numerous limestone rock formations and clusters from my balcony. We were entering Ha Long Bay. I went to a restaurant that had open deck tables and could only marvel at the view. You could never experience this by train, road or air. I had booked a ticket for the junk cruise of the bay but could not face another herded in, herded off, excursion. I later heard the junks took 45 minutes to board. Besides I had a wonderful view from my balcony and ship’s deck.
Our normal group met for drinks, less the charming Swiss lady and plus the brash Australian I met the first night and (between you and I) was my reason for switching tables for the New Years Eve gala dinner. Whatever the topic of conversation she managed to divert it back to herself. So when the child psychologist Labour MEP widower had some interesting observations on a screaming child and the parents finding his casting of food amusing, the Aussie said she had no children but cocker spaniels. Of course Mr Know-All from Dorking knew all about the training of cocker spaniels and the table was subjected to a conversation only marginally more interesting than the clay pot factory visit. I swiftly made my excuses and left.
