While waiting at some drop point for another bus to pick us up for lunch, my Serbian friend Z decided that now was a good time to look for a plane ticket. He hobbled off grumbling to a nearby internet cafe while I chatted with a girl I had met on he tour. The cafe was only across the street, so when the bus finally did come, I figured I had time to grab him. So far, nothing in Asia had moved fast or efficiently anyway. But of course, in the 45 seconds or so it took me to get Z, the bus was gone. All we knew was which direction it had headed, not its destination nor its timeframe, nor the names of our guides or specific tour (they all had similar names anyway). Less that, we had no idea how to get back Cat-Ba Island to Hanoi, where all our stuff was (again, thank god I had my passport!). Z flew into a rage, blaming everyone and everything in this blasted country. Trying to be a little more pragmatic, I began questioning anyone with a clipboard if they might have an idea where our bus would have gone. Finally, after much struggle, I located a lady who claimed to be some kind of National Tourism employee (she had a clipboard and a walkie-talkie, so good enough for me). She seemed to know where they most likely would have gone for lunch. She called us 2 motorbikes that wanted 20 dong each for the ride (I don't remember the exact amount, but we'll say 20 dong for now). Z would have none of it; he was tired of feeling ripped off. "20 dong for both!" he spat. The drivers shook their heads. For 15 minutes they bartered angrily over what amounted to about sixty cents. I tried to intercede, saying that I would pay the difference in order to begin searching for the group, but he wouldn't budge. This was his stand.

In the end, he won, and we were driven by surly drivers, dropped off at a strange intersection and pointed in a vague direction. By the grace of god, we somehow found our group just finishing up lunch. No one had noticed we were missing and the guides just smirked at us when we yelled at them. We shoved some leftover noodles in our mouths before stuffing ourselves on a packed bus which delivered us to the ferry back to the mainland. "I can't wait to leave this place!" Z blurted before laying his head down on the table to try and sleep off his hangover. Just then, one of the tour guides plopped down in the seat next to him (the rest of the cabin was available at this point). They glared at each other for a moment, then the tour guide turned around, lit a smelly cigarette, and began cantankerously laughing with the boat's pilot.

Z seethed, but I couldn't help but laugh.