had pushed off, being steered steadily by the native crew. We were floating between limestone peaks, most covered in bright green foliage. I had no idea they would be so green, having expected smooth gray rock instead of the jungle that seemed to be growing out of the water.
“These are called karsts in English,” said Red, who had taken the seat next to me. He had a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt untucked and a glass of his terrible orange drink in his hand, as he always seemed to. His face was very attractive, that was undeniable, but his look was one of studied slovenliness, as if he’d applied the faint stains on his pants himself. “They are limestone, like all these isles.”
“They’re marvelous,” I said, looking at them, so dramatic despite their relative lack of stature. Their sheer number, color, and brilliance made them seem otherworldly.
“To the rock wonder in the sky,” he said, lifting his glass in the air.
“That’s a nice way to put it,” I said, marveling at the beauty.
“I stole it,” said Red, lowering his sunglasses and grinning. “It’s from an old Annamese poem. A very old one, but quite famous.”
“He steals words along with hearts,” said the journalist, breaking in with a laugh. “Anything authentic in there?” he said, pointing to Red’s head. “Or did you smoke all the good stuff away?”
“This from a journalist,” said Red. “Selective truths are worse than lies.”
The two men laughed and continued to exchange light jabs. “Legend has it,” the journalist told me, “that the bay sprang into being when a naughty dragon plunged into the sea and thrashed his tail around, cutting apart the land and creating these little islands. There are over a thousand of them. ‘Ha Long’ itself means ‘where the dragon descends into the sea,’ so don’t believe this ‘rock wonder in the sky’ nonsense from Red. Actually, don’t believe anything Red says,” he added with another laugh.
The two men conversed, and I listened more than I spoke, as we all had champagne and finished the delicious clams Khoi had served. We all spent the day drinking and sunning ourselves, engaging in light conversation, falling asleep in the cool breeze, and then starting the process over again. Red kept a respectful distance, and I found that I was the one moving physically closer to him, so that by the time it was late afternoon, we were sitting only inches apart. At five o’clock, Marcelle disappeared below board while we spoke and reappeared a half hour later with a camera in her hands.
“Let’s take a few pictures before the sun sets. So that we can remember a time when we were all young and beautiful. Well, the women, anyway,” she said, grinning.
I stood closer to the men and then was joined by the rest of the party. “But you have to be in it, Marcelle,” I said.
“Trust me, I’ve been photographed enough for one lifetime. Those flashbulbs have probably taken half my soul with them, but all right.”
She took off her hat and tied a green ribbon around her dark hair, then came and squeezed in right next to me, not separating me from Red, who was on my other side. Marcelle smelled like gardenias and the spice of local food, a perfect mix of East and West.
When a small silver bell rang indicating dinner, Marcelle took my arm and held it tightly. “All we do on this boat is eat,” she said. “Well, at least until the sun goes down. But it’s worth adding a pound or two. The food is the best you’ll taste in Indochine.”
We ate dinner early in a capacious dining room downstairs where the tall, open windows framed a view of the sun, just beginning to set. Afterward, the whole group moved down the hall to an elegantly appointed sitting room with low couches, reclined chairs, and piles of silk pillows. I sat on the largest pillow and stroked the fabric, sure that it was the finest silk I had ever touched.
Khoi said something in Annamese to a girl in a bright pink ao who had appeared at the door. She ran off, returning a few moments later with another girl. In their hands were several long wooden pipes, each with a small ceramic bowl attached to a saddle on the top.
“Opium?” I asked Marcelle quietly as the others chatted animatedly around us, suddenly feeling quite out of my element.
“You still haven’t smoked opium?” said Marcelle. She laughed but lowered