Luna and the Dragons

Luna says we shouldn’t worry much about the rats.

They can swim as well as the cockroaches and they only come out at night but even then, they tend to keep to themselves – unless you’ve made the mistake of keeping food in your cabin.

If we’re lucky, we’ll see them leaping off the rocks.

We’ll just be cruising by in our semi-luxurious sleeper boat, drifting just a little too close to the incredible limestone towers that make the bay famous and suddenly it will be all leaping rats, rock shaking screams and regret.

That said, Luna would like us to know it’s far too late for a refund.

My friend Sam and I are on a bus halfway to our scheduled cruise in Halong Bay and Luna, our Vietnamese guide, shares the ratty reality with the diabolical, ever-teasing grin she reserves for her most devastating pieces of information.

She’s the best worst tour guide in the world.

She tells you about the rats and cockroaches in the cabins. She makes sure you know that the Sky Cave you’ll be visiting isn’t actually the best in the bay so you can feel free to sit it out and she advises that, instead of waking up at godless dawn to learn tai chi on the cruise boat deck, you sleep tight and practise the martial art in your dreams.

Luna doesn’t want us to be disappointed.

Her strategy is to downplay what you’ve paid for, dull all anticipation and trample any hope you have of a good time so when you find yourself in the majestic bowels of a sky cave or kayaking to a small private beach before swimming gloriously in the emerald sea, you can’t quite decide whether everything is incredible or you’re just utterly relieved.

It’s a bit of both and this is buoyed by the fact that we have such a great group.

That’s the tricky part about organised tours.

Sometimes you end up with a spectacular gang of duds. The kind of anti-social, side-eyeing mutes or just thoroughly obnoxious whingers who sometimes encounter me suddenly unable to speak or understand English – yes, cunningly milking the stereotypes.

“Me. Africa. No English.”

Luna’s group, however, is great.

A well-travelled older couple from England; a cornfed teacher from Alabama; another educator from New Jersey but living in Seoul; lovebirds from London and the woman’s little brother; a fiery red-headed biker from Australia; a sweet Swiss unit, Sam; a Lebanese woman I sat next to on the plane from Doha and who recommended the cruise, and me.

Most of us are completely, vocally appalled by the state of the world.

We laugh about the fact that we can hear such enchanting stories about the legend of Halong Bay in which the Jade Emperor sends the Mother Dragon and her children to help the Vietnamese defeat invaders from the north through the building of an emerald wall which today, after thousands of years, remains as the bay’s incredible limestone islands and islets but still steer the conversation into our feelings about climate change, Aboriginal affairs, the Nama-Herero genocide, the #MeToo movement and the 100 000 ways in which the world is aflame and what we need or are trying to do about it.

We pass a spirited, debate-filled and special night ordering three-for-two cocktails at our floating bar and talking for far longer than anyone with imminent, crack-of-dawn tai chi should.

The world is burning.

On that we can agree.

But for the moment, as the flames flicker in every place we call home, we feel safe and blessed to be on the water.

Protected by a grand and glorious guard.

Luna and the dragons.

– martha@namibian.com.na; Martha Mukaiwa on Twitter and Instagram, marthamukaiwa.com

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