We
had decided to do an island tour from Nha Trang - the punters on the boat were an
eclectic mix of English gap year types, Filipino engineers working on
the soon to open Nha Trang Marriot and a few locals enjoying the
weekend, plus us. 5 minutes after leaving, the first stop was a small
island with an aquarium which we decided against entering on the
grounds that the tanks we could see were woefully small for large
marine animals like sharks, preferring to stay on the boat for the
alloted 20 minutes. The people who did pay in confirmed our
suspicions when they got back.
As
we left the aquarium the host/guide introduced himself as Funky
Monkey. He was hilarious – a real charachter. He explained the
agenda for the day and then handed out beers. We considered whether
or not to get back on the horse so early for a few seconds before the
expression on Funky's face said it all. Drink or be thrown overboard.
Psst... and the Tiger beer flowed. We reached another island a while
later and were given snorkels and masks. As the gap yearers (led by
Funky of course) somersaulted overboard I wondered whether it was
wise to get my ears wet. They felt fine, and I could hear as well as
I ever could ... so jumped in.
It had been raining quite heavily the
day before so visibility was very low. We could just about make out
some grey-green coral and Claire thought she saw a clown fish but
wasn't sure. I had spent so much bloody cash on multiple waterproof
cameras in the trip I was determined to take some underwater snaps.
When we got back on board it seems the camera saw a lot more than we
could.
After
a move away from the coral island we were joined by a boat full of
locals for lunch. The benches we had been sitting on were transformed
into a table and a huge spread laid before us.
As we chatted and had
some more beer Funky Monkey started to pluck away on a guitar. Much
to everyone's surprise he was soon joined by a drummer (playing pots and
pans) and a basist. They were actually a really good make shift band
– Funky had a great voice and they got both boats going in no time.
Then the karaoke started – Nick was called up for a decent
rendition of Waltzing Matilda and then it went around the boat –
the Filipinos, clearly well practiced karaoke afficionados were very
good. The Chinese weren't great and the English girl called up was a
bit young to know the lyrics of The Bangles 80s singalong classic
Eternal Flame. Thankfully Funky Monkey let Claire and I escape
scott-free in favour of 2 Vietnamese girls who were brilliant. I
actually thought they were professional go go dancers – they got
the whole boat gyrating - the table had now become a dancefloor.
The
sun shone brilliantly as the band packed up and we motored on again.
We stopped and a strange metal contraption was produced and flung
overboard. We soon found out it was the floating bar. The music was
cranked up and the boat disgorged its occupants who floated about in
rings. The hilariously foul mouthed floating barman who only answered
to the name homosexual told us the only rule – if you say no you
finish your cup of cocktail.
So, those people who had had enough of
the concoction and declined were topped up again. Now that I'm
writing about it it does sound like a recipe for disaster – 40
people in various states of inebriation bobbing around a bar tethered
to the ship by a thick piece of twine but it was great fun and a unique way to spend the afternoon. The
Filipinos in particular were great sports. A lot of them couldn't
swim but soldiered doggedly on in their life jackets, never turning
down a drink and water-dancing and insulting the barman along with
the rest of us.
After a final stop at yet another island we made for
home and poured ourselves into our taxis home, promising to meet up
with everyone later. We broke all the promises – I'd like to blame
it on HBO but I suspect it had more to do with a lack of stamina for
all day drinking than anything else.
A
massive rainstorm descended on Nha Trang the following morning. Nick
had left a note to say he'd had enough of Nha Trang and was trucking
on. it's not much fun in a beach town when the weather is crap so we
decided to book our own onward trip but could only leave the
day after. We settled into an Irish bar and had fish and chips for lunch
and eventually felt ready for a quiet beer and a few games of cards.
We played pool. The rain kept coming. We visited another bar and
played more pool. It continued to pour down. We went back to the
irish bar and played darts and got talking to a Franco-Irish couple.
The Irish guy was pleasant enough but he got a bit weird and started
talking about the merits of the Real IRA. We moved on and met a Norwegian
helicopter pilot and his crazy girlfriend. Then finally a brief respite
in the rain which allowed us to go home.
The
sun returned the next day and after checking out of the hotel we
rented some shaded loungers on the beach to kill the day before our
bus in the evening. The water was beautiful and calm and the beach
peaceful except for the constant hawkers peddling trinkets and tat.
A
lady in the ubiquitous Vietnamese conical hats approached. She
carried the most amazing mobile restaurant on a bamboo balancing
stick on her shoulders – she looked a bit like a human scales. On
her scales were a fire, a huge pot of boiling water, and a pot of
lobsters and crayfish fresh from the fishing boats. We couldn't
refuse and decadently ate 2 exquisitely cooked lobsters for
breakfast. It only cost about a fiver!
The day languorously flowed on
and eventually it was time to pack up and jump on the next bus.
