Halong Bay. A landscape of two thousand small islands, scattered in the ocean. The grave of an ancient dragon who dropped hundreds of pearls here, which turned into stone when he died, forming a gallery of natural art.

The islands and boulders pass slowly, while our boat makes its way through the stone-and-water-maze, to Cat Ba island, where dinner is waiting, and a shower. Then back to the boat, to sleep out there in the ocean.

'Sleep on the boat' ~ want to know how this feels? You sit on top of the deck, under the night sky, in the open water, surrounded by huge boulders. You talk about travelling, about life and death, about love and the universe. Have a last Tiger-beer, a last 555-cigarette. Then you lay down on your mattress, the sky your ceiling, the boat your bed, the ocean your guesthouse.

And what a perfect guesthouse it is: the waves rock you gently, while the boat circles slowly around the anchor point. You feel like in a natural cradle, in an endless water hammock. The moon smiles at you, the stars send little rays of light through the clouds, and you find yourself humming this is all I want is all I need, and wondering why you never did this before. And why you spent all this summer nights at home in your bedroom instead of taking the mattress outside to the garden.

Part 9: Places that lost their meaning

this travelogue is part of the subside travelzine
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