A couple of years ago I went to Vietnam with a group called Intrepid out of Australia. We were a mixed bag of adventure seekers, Australian, Swiss, Chinese, one lone Canadian and a Maori from New Zealand.
One night we stayed in a houseboat in Halong Bay, and although the shot I took above was not our boat, ours was identical.
After our antics of the day, cave exploring and kayaking, we retired after an extraordinary meal to laugh, dance and sing, and then someone pulled out a karaoke machine and we all started howling at the moon, to songs like this one from Bette Midler, to many others as well, and the night went by swiftly.
One of my poignant memories was that of our Vietnamese guide, a lovely soft spoken and very kind man who pulled up a song from his country and sang it alone, disappearing into memories and history.
He lost many family members in the Vietnam war, although he was very young when he did so. I remember his voice, haunting and lovely, as it filled the houseboat with loss and sorrow. He was not aware we were there. He just turned to the window, full moon on the water, and sang.
One night we stayed in a houseboat in Halong Bay, and although the shot I took above was not our boat, ours was identical.
After our antics of the day, cave exploring and kayaking, we retired after an extraordinary meal to laugh, dance and sing, and then someone pulled out a karaoke machine and we all started howling at the moon, to songs like this one from Bette Midler, to many others as well, and the night went by swiftly.
One of my poignant memories was that of our Vietnamese guide, a lovely soft spoken and very kind man who pulled up a song from his country and sang it alone, disappearing into memories and history.
He lost many family members in the Vietnam war, although he was very young when he did so. I remember his voice, haunting and lovely, as it filled the houseboat with loss and sorrow. He was not aware we were there. He just turned to the window, full moon on the water, and sang.