I woke up this morning to the sound of rats scurrying across the ceiling. I wasn't too worried because they weren't in my room, but these small remainders kept my brain in Vietnam. After I woke up, the crew served use tea, dragonfruit, and melon. My only previous experience with dragonfruit was in Sobe, and the drink was red. The skin is reddish/pink, while the insides are milky white with black seeds. The flavor was very delicate; it was sweet and refreshing, but much lighter in taste than a melon. Our surroundings made breakfast more enjoyable. We were anchored in a quiet bay, where the only sound was that of the water. The sky and the distant limestone formations were a hundred different hues of blue. Upon thinking back to the noise of Hanoi's streets, this seemed like an entirely different planet.

After sailing around Halong bay for a few hours, we went back to Halong City, boarded the bus, and headed back to Hanoi. Alaster & I killed some time browsing $2 dvds and $1 cds, before heading to a massage parlor. I was a bit apprehensive about it, as I hadn't gone for a massage yet and I was uncertain if they'd try to sell me 'special' services. We walked in to the building and paid 80.000 dong to a man behind a desk. The man led me into a narrow hallway and then into a room. The floor was tiled, a single bed/massage table was in the center, and the paint was started to peel off of the walls. My massuese entered and asked me to strip down to my boxers. She spoke as much english as I speak Vietnamese, so we tried to communicate using her english/vietnamese dictionary.

Overall, the massage was ok. She didn't use any oil, so the result was that all of my body hair was pulled during the massage. The massage felt great in the end, but during the procedure I thought that she was going to break one of my bones. The most unnerving incident is when she decided to pick at a zit on my shoulder. I was so flabbergasted that it was happening, and coupled with my inability to communicate in Vietnamese, I tried to understand what the hell she was doing. While walking down any busy street, I've seen Vietnamese women pick at each other's faces. Maybe it's a cultural thing, but regardless of origin, I was freaked out.