“Great, I’m a novelty,” I said to no one.
Three preteen girls gasped then giggled, their hands glued to their mouths, when I smiled at them in a friendly gesture. They began speaking a mile a minute in continuous tittering, eyeing me like they’d never seen anything like me before. I retreated into myself as I grabbed both my bags and swung them onto the floor below. I turned to make my escape but there was nowhere to turn. Bodies filled every square inch around the revolving carousel.
“Jeez,” I said, unsure of what to do, but with that one word everyone around me scattered. “What is going on?”
“They’re afraid of you,” a chuckling man with a thick accent beside me answered.
“Why?” I asked.
“Have you seen you?” he answered, his eyes popping open in mock surprise.
“I’m tall, but that’s not that unusual.”
“It’s not just your height,” he explained, eyeing the revolving bags for his own. “It’s your size.”
I looked down at myself desperate to see what they saw. I looked around me. No one was taller than five foot five or so, but they were also very lean, thin. Ah, I get it. I was the proverbial American male to them. Broad shoulders from working the fields for years and all that comes with it. I’m sure my hair didn’t help either.
I threw my bags over my shoulder to the delight of the group of preteen girls which made my eyes roll and headed toward a sign that signaled exchange services. I converted a hundred American dollars into, I shit you not, two million one hundred twenty-one thousand five hundred Vietnamese dong.
The exchange agent spoke English, so I took advantage. “Excuse me, do you know the best way for me to reach Hạ Long Bay?”
“There are many options,” she explained, rummaging through a pile of pamphlets on her desk and pulling out one what looked like a schedule. It was in Vietnamese, though. “There’s a minibus that leaves here in half an hour that goes to Hạ Long City. You can also rent a taxi or motorbike.”
“How far away is it?” I asked, considering the taxi route.
“About one hundred forty-five kilometers. By taxi, it would take about two and half hours. The minibus is less expensive but an hour is added onto your trip.”
“How much for the taxi do you think?”
“Around eighty-five American dollars.”
I inwardly sighed. The idea of getting on yet another contraption full of strangers for hours made me cringe, but I didn’t have the cash for the taxi. I spent most of my savings on the plane ticket and the rest I had saved to support myself the months I would be there with Fin.
“Where’s the minibus at?” I asked.
She pointed me in the direction of the little station. I needed to find the bus that read Hạ Long City and I could pay the driver, she had explained. I dragged my canvas luggage onto my shoulders and huffed it to the bus terminal as quickly as possible. I apparently had less than fifteen minutes to get to the bus or I risked waiting another two hours to catch the next one. And the terminal was ten minutes away. That fact panicked me. I’d had enough of traveling.
When I reached the minibus, I was thoroughly out of breath but I got there in less than five minutes carrying two fairly heavy canvas duffels. There was a line of people so I joined in, dumping my bags at my feet.
I read the fare was two-hundred twenty thousand dong. I did a quick calculation in my head and realized it was only about ten dollars, which relieved me. Nervous butterflies took residence in my stomach at the thought of seeing Finley. I couldn’t decide if it was because it was just the thought of seeing her or if I was afraid of how she’d react to seeing me. A little of both, I finally reasoned.
I paid the fare and boarded the bus, catching a window seat in the very back. As we left the airport, the lulling chatter of the passengers around me subdued my unease and I took in the country that was Vietnam.
Right off the bat, I thought it a magnificent place. The people were beautiful and stylish and the land seemed to match them. I got a kick out of the fact that their street workers wore those conical leaf hats. Later, I would find out they were called nón lá. There were motorbikes everywhere. I winced when I saw a very pregnant woman on one but I supposed that was normal for their people.
Entering the highway was beyond scary. Instead of the entrance ramps I was accustomed to, it was a free-for-all from what I could tell. I’d noticed incessant honking since we’d left the airport and it seemed even more outrageous in the cluster of vehicles trying to maneuver past one another. I sat up, white-knuckling the seat bar in front of me. When we got through, I looked around me and almost burst out laughing at all the slack Westerner jaws with their wide eyes.
To me, the highways and regular city streets weren’t at all different. The speed limits seemed the same to me but then again, I couldn’t read the signs indicating the rate. Though we did share the Roman numeral system, it was hard to guess what meant what.
We had reached the city proper in under an hour and the driver had explained in broken English that we would be stopping for a half hour break so they could refuel and we could eat something or shop. When I left the bus, I was amazed at the bustling life all around me. It was intimidating to say the least. Strangely, they carted around massive amounts of cargo on the back racks of their motorbikes. What looked like a giant sphere worth of wicker baskets came barreling through everyone, surprising me, and making me laugh. The woman driving the small motorbike looked on a mission. Cars, motorbikes, and bicycles alike shared the streets in a chaotic battle to further their efforts. Horns bombarded my ears like buzzing bees. Every inch of the Old Quarter seemed to hum, actually. Small alleyways were packed with people and street vendors.