Dragons, Sequins and Ginger Tea: Our Ha Long Bay Fairytale

The day began with that classic traveller’s lie we all tell ourselves: “Let’s catch the sunrise!” The alarm went off at 5:30am. We are on holiday. Why? Who knows. But we shuffled out of bed and made it down to Hoàn Kiếm Lake where the city was already alive with locals twisting, stretching and grooving in what looked like a mixture of tai chi, aerobics and early-morning disco. Dozens of elderly women in bright tracksuits were line dancing to tinny pop music while another group appeared to be doing interpretive hip hop with their feet. Dana said it looked like a Czech wedding after too much Becherovka. Everyone was smiling, moving, and full of energy, while we clung to our coffee cups and tried to remember how to blink.

After breakfast, we packed up for our next adventure: Hạ Long Bay. A private car collected us from the hotel, and within 30 minutes we’d travelled a grand total of one mile, thanks to Hanoi’s million mopeds. The journey took about two and a half hours, with a brief stop at Legend Pearl — a glittering “factory” designed purely to convince tourists that pearls are worth mortgaging your house for. Dana wisely declared, “Too shiny, too expensive,” and marched us back to the car before I could even pretend to look interested.

As we crossed Cổng Tuần Châu bridge, Hạ Long Bay revealed itself — part paradise, part tourist circus. Imagine a stone gorilla statue towering above rows upon rows of cruise boats lined up like eager swans. We were welcomed by the Lux Cruises team with green tea, smiles and an elegant lounge soundtrack interrupted only by a symphony of honking horns outside. Dana, ever the linguist, was deep in Google Translate trying to master “thank you very much” in Vietnamese - “Cảm ơn rất nhiều” - which came out as something like “come on red noodle.”

Before we could correct her, we were whisked onto a small speedboat for a 25-minute ride across the jade-green water. Quiz time: “How many islands are in Hạ Long Bay?” The answer — 1,969 — also happens to be the year Ho Chi Minh died. (Bryan, of course, turned this into a free-beer trivia rule for the rest of the trip.)

Our main boat was a stunner: dark polished wood, glinting brass, and a crew who greeted us like royalty. They ushered everyone into the lounge for the safety briefing, though somehow only Dana was given a special cup of ginger tea — “for madame.” She beamed, I sulked. We were handed our key — Room 212 — and opened the door to find a four-poster bed, balcony, and a bathtub facing the bay. Five-star luxury with a view you’d happily sell your mother-in-law for.

Lunch was a buffet that could make Michelin weep. Every dish perfectly balanced, every bite a love letter to Vietnam. As we sailed slowly through the emerald waters, limestone pillars rose from the sea like sleeping dragons. “It’s like sailing through a painting,” Dana whispered. And she was right.

The afternoon brought kayaking and swimming. Dana, first-time kayaker, was a natural. I mostly sat at the back pretending to steer while admiring her determination. We paddled to a small sandy beach and took a dip in water so warm it felt like soup — delicious, salty soup. On the way back, Dana panicked, convinced our giant boat was moving away. It wasn’t. But her Czech commentary on my paddling skills was… expressive.

Once back on board, dripping wet and leaving puddles everywhere, we headed straight for the tiny pool on deck. As the boat moved, the water sloshed side to side, creating our own mini wave machine. We laughed so hard the crew probably thought we’d gone mad.

Then came bath time - a double tub with panoramic views of the bay. Utter bliss. That is, until a small boat pulled up alongside with a man enthusiastically waving cans of beer for sale. Dana screamed, ducked to the floor, and I nearly drowned in laughter trying to shut the blinds while stark naked.

Evening descended with cocktails on the upper deck. Dana appeared in her silver-and-black sequin dress, shimmering like a disco ball. As we climbed the stairs, four staff members gasped in unison, then clapped and shouted “WOW!” She bowed like a queen. I followed in my bright floral shirt and Embassy London shoes — more court jester than king.

As the sun melted into the horizon, the bay turned golden. Dozens of boats anchored around us, their lights twinkling like fallen stars. Warm breeze, gentle waves, the scent of the sea — perfection.

Before dinner, there was a cookery class on making bánh xèo, sizzling Vietnamese pancakes. The batter looked like it had eggs in it but was actually made from rice powder. Dana volunteered to try. Her first attempt split like a bad relationship. The second? Absolute triumph. The crew applauded. The other guests had drifted off, leaving just us chatting with the chef, swapping stories about food, family, and the magic of travel.

Dinner was fit for royalty — literally, since we’d dressed up in traditional Vietnamese outfits, dubbed “the King and Queen of Lux Cruises.” The staff loved it. Our free bottle of white wine (compensation for a date change) didn’t hurt either.

Grilled oysters with cheese — heavenly. Green bean soup — surprisingly rich. The seabass and steak — pure perfection. Dana’s was well done, mine rare, both cooked like dreams. The manager, Chris, joined us between courses, teaching us Vietnamese words and telling stories about the bay. Then came a spontaneous show: first a birthday celebration complete with cake and singing, then a 40th wedding anniversary where the crew paraded glowing letters spelling L-O-V-E. It was joyous, cheesy, and utterly wonderful.

We ended the night watching King Kong: Skull Island, filmed right there in Hạ Long Bay. As the camera panned over familiar limestone towers, Dana smiled sleepily and said, “See, even Hollywood knows this is magic.”

And with that, the dragons of Hạ Long Bay rocked us gently to sleep.

Tomorrow’s plan: avoid all alarms, unless the dragon himself calls.