Friday 1 September – Hanoi
Awake. Time check. 4.30am.
Seriously?
But good!
Back to sleep in my very dark room.
Eyes open again. 6.00am.
Yeah, that’s not happening.
Make it to 7.00am, and while I’m awake, I can’t really be bothered.
Lethargy and laziness.
7.30am arrives, and I can put it off no longer. There’s an appointment looming, and I have stuff that needs to be done.
Downstairs by 8.00am, and a decision on breakfast, now that the Emerald’s in house breakfast is well and truly back up running post Covid, needs to be made.
There’s plenty on offer, either buffet style or via the menu, and it all looks really good.
But being morning, and me being the person I am, well, it’s all just a bit wasted on me.
I disappoint the kitchen staff severely, and go with some fruit, along with a cà phê sữa đá, which I clearly must have said wrong, judging by the blank look I receive.
We eventually get there.
Fruit is good, as too is the cà phê sữa đá, and I’m outside around 8.30am to begin some chores.
Up Hang Manh, and then up Hang Bong, stopping briefly to watch bricks being unloaded from the back of a motorbike, and carried Vietnamese style, as in on your back, into a hotel undergoing refurbishment.
I just love the way the Vietnamese get things done.
Down in the general direction of St Joseph’s, and as half expected, our laundry place from last year, and 2019, for that matter, is closed today and tomorrow for the National Holiday.
The situation is far from desperate in relation to clean clothes, but with leaving early Monday morning for Sapa, I would prefer to start with a relative clean slate, so I don’t have to deal with clothes washing up North.
Well, at least not for a few days.
The walk continues down past the hospital, and there’s heaps about already. But to be fair, there’s often a lot around here, as there are outside most hospitals.
Down into the hems behind, and beside St Joseph’s, and then around to the front of it. There’s plenty about, and the road that it is on is teeming with cars, bikes and pedestrians.
It most certainly has that holiday feel about it.
‘My’ church.
The walk continues, and while it’s rather aimless type walking, I do have two ATM options in mind, seeing as I would like to stock up on cash early in the long weekend, on the off chance the ATMs start to run out of money.
Down to the lake, and not surprisingly, it’s even busier than around the church.
Past several ‘photo shoots’, which the locals tend to really enjoy, including one involving two really cute kids, who have at least twenty phones and cameras pointed in their direction.
I can’t resist, so it becomes twenty-one.
He was tolerating it, but his patience was begining to wane.
Around the corner, and knowing from previous Googling that there’s a VIB bank ATM just up a bit, I set off to deal with my potential future money concerns.
ATM is found, card inserted, ‘other’ is pushed in the hope of getting 10 million Dong withdrawn, and a message pops up telling me I can, and that it will be dispensed in 50 000 Dong notes.
My mathematical ability isn’t quick enough to tell me exactly how many 50 000 Dong notes make up 10 million, but I do have the ability to know that it is a number far higher than I want, and a number that is far, far, far higher than I need, when it comes to looking after them.
‘Cancel’ can’t be pushed quick enough, my card is returned, and I start thinking about plan ‘B’, which is already in my head.
Back down to the lake, and then to the southern end, and down a bit further to Hai Ba Trung street. Turn left, and there, a bit further on, is a VP bank ATM on the left.
Into its little glass box, and the whole procedure is repeated. But unlike a few minutes ago, my 10 million is spat out in, mainly 500 000 Dong notes, understandably and fortunately, but also in a few assorted lower denomination notes.
Job done, but with senses now heightened, I head back up to the lake, and down around the southern end.
It’s the usual weekend sights on this public holiday Friday, with the kids already out and about in their remote controlled cars.
I love the lake at any time of the day, but that particular sight at the southern end when the streets are closed, always makes me stop and watch for a few minutes.
Weekend / public holiday Hanoi.
Getting close to 9.30am, and still with an hour to go until appointment time, what better way to fill that time than with the second cà phê sữa đá of the day.
Back up towards St Joseph’s, and over to a café that became ‘our café’, way back in 2017, after first finding it in 2016, on the second trip.
Now known simply as its name, Affetto, we have been back ever since.
It’s amazing how these little connections come about.
Cà phê sữa đá ordered, and unfortunately, with no seats available outside, it’ll need to be an inside one. Doesn’t matter, as an inside one is better than no cà phê sữa đá at all.
Coffee savoured, the 25 000 Dong bill fixed up, it’s time to get organised.
Back to the Emerald to get stuff sorted, and then a quick chat, for the first time this trip, with Kate on the way out. It’s good to see her again.
The walk up to Ma May begins, and I can’t help but think back to the last time I undertook this walk to get a tattoo done.
The trepidation I felt 11 months ago, just isn’t there this time, and I’m actually really looking forward to getting it done.
Well, okay, maybe there’s a tiny bit there.
Up to 1984, and like yesterday, quickly upstairs.
Paperwork sorted, and then it’s up another flight of stairs to where the pain is inflicted.
Sit and wait for a bit, and the realisation hits me that I have no idea who is actually doing it. There’s a girl, with pink coloured hair, getting organised, and I guess it could be her, but right now, I don’t know.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter, as I trust them.
I get talking to one of the young guys, whose English is pretty good, and he’s interested in my existing tattoo, as well as the one that I’m about to get. To give him a little more information on the history of the first two, I look up a couple of photos that are on last year’s blog, to show him.
When he sees the photo with Lisa and her tattoo artist, his eyes light up and he immediately points to the girl with the pink hair.
I’m stunned, it’s Hip, who did Lisa’s last year, and I can’t believe I never recognised her.
He shows Hip the photo, and straight away she exclaims, with a big smile on her face, “I remember!”
She then tells me she’s doing mine.
I’m rapt, and it kind of just feels like it’s supposed to be, after last year.
A few minutes later and the process is about to begin.
Hip has the design in front of her, and the discussion is had on the exact placement.
She then takes a close look at my existing tattoos, and immediately says she wants to touch them up, at the same time.
The question of, “Is that okay?”, is asked.
It was a question that really didn’t need to be asked, because if she cares that much, then there’s no way I’m going to knock back her offer.
Location sorted, and it’s about to start.
“Are you ready for the pain?”, Hip asks.
“Yep, no problem”, I confidently reply, seeing as I’m an old hand at this tattoo thing.
“No, it’ll hurt more than the others”, she responds.
“Oh, really? Will I cry?”, I ask, part jokingly, but now also with a little more nervousness than I had.
“Yes”, she says, as she goes to hand me a tissue.
Was funny, but I’m now wondering…..
Sharp implement meets my skin, and black lines begin to appear.
Tissue, at the moment, is not required.
And it begins….
Young guy comes back and asks if I would like a drink, but this morning’s two cà phê sữa đá’s are still hydrating me.
But he doesn’t want to take no for an answer, and hands me a menu with a list of drinks available.
Hip is also insistent that I have something, and seeing as she’s the one holding the pointy thing, I give in, and order the juice of the world’s greatest fruit, pineapple.
Drink quickly arrives, and as expected, it’s good. But each sip is a nervous one, as I take more care than ever to not move the arm that is being stained and altered forever.
Half an hour in, it’s really taking shape, I already love it, and even better, there have been no tears.
Hip continues doing her thing, and her attention to detail is incredible. I thought the guy last year was good, but Hip is fantastic.
A couple of the younger guys come across to check out the progress, and each time they do, they give me an approving smile and nod.
It’s a nice feeling, and while I think the acknowledgement has got a bit to do with the design, as well as, obviously, Hip’s work, I think it’s more about what they represent.
Their country, and what length this silly 50 something Western guy is prepared to go to, to show and confirm what their country means to him.
On Hip goes, and then, a bit after 12.00pm, it’s done.
A quick look, a bit of admiring, and yep, I’m rapt.
But I don’t get long to do the admiring thing, as Hip begins to touch up the other two.
Again, the time and care taken, and the attention to detail, is amazing.
The touching up takes another hour or so, and during it, I just sit back and enjoy the whole experience. The pain, which is little more than a slight discomfort, rarely enters my mind, while, not for the first time, I contemplate how I got here.
It was all a bit surreal 11 months ago, coupled with feelings of nervousness, apprehension, and enough doubt to, well, really doubt what I was about to undertake, as we made our way to our appointment. But once it was done, there were absolutely no regrets, and there have been no regrets ever since.
But, those first two were only ever going to be the only two, and as far as I was concerned, there was to be no more inking of my body.
Things changed, however, a few months ago, when a desire for something Saigon related, emerged.
I wasn’t sure what it was to be, and despite asking some Saigon friends, who in turn asked their Saigon friends, no one could come up with a symbol that related to it.
But then the Saigon Bia can, sitting on my bar at home, became the focus. Or more to the point, the dragon on it.
The dragon, while probably linked to a number of countries, is, in my eyes, certainly Vietnamese. While perhaps not Saigon exclusive, the Saigon Bia dragon, being in the shape of an ‘S’, sort of helps.
And then of course, there is the beer connection, which sits very, as in extremely, and perhaps not surprisingly, comfortably with me.
Like Hip doing the work, it just feels like it was meant to be.
Again, amazing where we end up.
The job is finally complete, and there they are. in all their either new, or touched up, glory.
I’m blown away, I absolutely love them, and I now can’t imagine not having the dragon.
Hip and the young guy take a few photos, which then reminds me that I desperately need one to send to Lisa. I hadn’t told her I was getting it done today, and she, like me until yesterday, thought it was going to be done in a week and a half.
Photo sent, and yep, she’s more than a little surprised.
But not as surprised as when I send her a photo of me and my very talented artist. She’s blown away when she realises it’s Hip.
With Hip, and my now complete tattoo.
I then get neglected somewhat, with Hip wanting to follow Lisa on Instagram, and Lisa wanting to follow Hip. Or whatever it is you do with Instagram….
Leaving them to sort out their Insta thing out, I head back to the waiting area for post tattoo stuff. There’s a French girl there who is about to go through what I just did, and we get chatting about tattoos and all things Vietnam.
It’s her second tattoo, but with the first one rather small, this one, on her side, is a little more significant.
From a Vietnam point of view, this was her first trip, and she’s actually heading home tonight.
But like me, she’s fallen in love with the country, and she is definitely coming back.
Her turn arrives, and then it’s time for my arm to ‘bandaged’ up in paper towel, and then ensconced in plastic wrap.
Bill is then fixed up, huge appreciative cảm ơn’s given to Hip, along with a promise to return with Lisa once she arrives, and I head out to do something about lunch, now that it’s a bit after 2.00pm.
Up Ma May towards Nam Bittet, and then a quick 5000 Dong toilet stop at the facilities beyond it.
The walk continues in the general direction of the Emerald, but in all honesty, it really is a very general and vague idea of where it is, as well as where I am, at any given point in time.
I struggled with it last year, and a year later, I’m still no better at it.
These streets just don’t seem to go where you think they’re going.
I eventually somehow find myself in Hardware Street, and knowing Hardware Street becomes Stainless Steel Street, I now know where I am.
Down near the Emerald, and with no desire to frequent the busy bun cha places at the end of Hang Manh, nor the yellow seat thieves around the corner from them, I head up behind the hotel.
I get to what Google Maps says is Cho Hang Da, and even though I’ve not been inside, I don’t actually believe it to be a market.
Well, not a market in the sense of what I think constitutes a typical Vietnamese market.
It’s a building that I’ve walked past many times, and it’s one that always stands out to me, but only because I don’t think it really fits the area, for some reason.
I don’t actually like it, but it may not be the building itself, with it maybe being the area around it, with it all being rather open.
The other thing that annoys me about it, is that I can never remember the name of it, even though it’s written on the front of it.
Anyway, past the area / building that I don’t like, and up the side street. I come across the bun cha place we went to a couple of times last year, the one run by the deaf women, and while they’re in the process of packing up, they invite me to sit down when they see me show interest.
I quickly have lunch in front of me, and like last year, it’s good. Although maybe not quite as good as I remembered.
Then again, is that because of falsely increased expectations / memories over time?
Don’t know.
Lunch enjoyed while ‘chatting’ to one of the ladies; yes, now dealing with both the language and hearing barrier; mainly about my covered tattoo, while watching the other lady and old guy continue to clean up.
Lunch done, I ask my lady how much. 50 000 Dong apparently, which, while I can’t remember how much it was last time, sounds about right.
I hand her a 50 000 Dong note, and she hands it to the other lady.
The other lady makes a move that appears to be one of retrieving some change, but the first woman makes a gesture to indicate that 50 000 Dong is how much it is.
It’s a weird little interaction, and while I can’t be a hundred percent sure of what I think I may have seen, I can’t help but feel that I may have paid a touch more than I should have.
Back to the Emerald to cool down, as well as, just out of interest, to check last year’s blog post on the day we had bun cha, and sure enough, it was 40 000 Dong.
I’m by no means quibbling over 10 000 Dong, and there is of course the chance that the price has gone up in the last 12 months, but after that strange little interaction, I now have this suspicion that I’ve paid a ‘tourist tax’.
If I have, it disappoints me, after making a bit of a connection with them last time, especially since it was on two separate occasions.
Oh well….
Cool down achieved, but still a little disappointed, I head back outside to do something I should have done before I left 1984 Tattoo Studio, and that is get some tattoo cream.
Down to the bottom of Hang Manh, and across to our nước mía đá guy we went to last year. Still 10 000 Dong a cup, and still just as good.
Up to 1984, cream quickly purchased, along with a brief chat with the French girl, who, like me, is very happy with her second tattoo.
Still a little early for a beer, I make my way down to the lake, and just for a change, begin a lap in the clockwise direction, which is the opposite to the way we, and the vast majority, normally do it.
There’s still plenty around, and I get lots of stares from people looking at my paper towel and plastic cling wrapped arm.
To be fair, it does look like I’ve had some sort of nasty accident.
Down the bottom end, and then back up, turning off towards St Joseph’s. There’s still plenty up there, too, along with one of the biggest tour groups I’ve seen, all obediently following their ‘master’ and his white flag on his long stick.
Like the cyclos, I really don’t understand the desire, or need, to be led around by someone here in Hanoi. Or most places, for that matter.
Back to the Emerald, and seeing as my two hours since the inking of my arm is up, it’s time for the unveiling.
Plastic and paper removed, and I love it.
Like, really love it!
Close enough to 4.00pm, and with a ‘dinner date’ planned for 6.00pm, I head up to do my thing at Bat Dan.
Through Stainless Steel Street, then up towards the train line, and I’m soon back in my happy place.
With my newly altered arm on display for all to see, I take the opportunity to send a photo to a few back at home, who may, or may not, be interested in what stage of my mid life crisis I’m up to.
One of those is the boy, who is ‘looking after’ the house, and I quickly discover that my new acquisition is actually pretty good, when he uses several positive adjectives, interspersed with a number of expletives, in a reply text.
Hmmm, I wasn’t really expecting that, and it seems his old man might be a little cooler than what, up until now, he’s been given credit for.
Struggling to stop looking at it.
A couple more beers while watching Hanoi go about its afternoon, and I get talking to an incredibly friendly local woman, who is doing exactly as I am.
She doesn’t have a lot of English, but she does have enough to ask a little about where I’m from, and how long I’m here for.
It was nice that she took the time to show an interest.
Beers done, and with my second appointment for the day fast approaching, the bill is fixed up and I head off back to the Emerald. A quick stop at my convenience store in Stainless Steel Street, and the puzzle is solved on exactly how much their beer is, with Saigon beer being 14 000 Dong per can, and Hanoi beer 13 000 Dong.
I will sleep easier tonight….
Back to my ‘home’, and a quick shower is had, heeding, with great difficulty, the advice not to get my left arm wet.
Somehow manage to succeed, and just a few minutes before 6.00pm, my room phone rings. It’s Jenny, and she’s called to say I have a visitor.
Scramble downstairs, and sure enough, standing out the front as promised, is Quan. We’d met him last year, after being introduced by Khoi, who owns Water Buffalo Tours.
It’s great to see him again, and while this particular catch up was always going to happen as soon as my flight was booked, tonight was only organised a couple of days ago, after I’d landed in Saigon.
Onto the back of his bike, and we’re quickly zipping through the streets of Hanoi. I love it, and it makes me think back to last year when Lisa and I were doing the same, when we somehow managed to ‘hire’ a couple of xe om’s (motorbike taxi), to take us to the sports centre, where we first met Quan.
Out towards the west of Hanoi, past the train station, and it’s not long before I lose all sense of direction. But it doesn’t matter, as having knowledge of where we are isn’t really of any great concern to me.
We soon reach a rather large building, and according to a sign on it, it’s apparently a circus.
Pulling up out the front, it’s not the actual circus we’re here to see, but a restaurant that Quan’s mate, Hung, has here.
We sit at a table out the front and catch up on the last year, while enjoying a few beers and some peanuts. Hung then arrives and joins us, and it turns out we actually met briefly last year, when we were at the sports centre with Quan.
More beers arrive, along with an appetiser plate of goat sausage, which was really good, as well as some apricot infused rice wine.
Lots of ‘cheers-ing’, lots of shots, and the thought enters my head that this could all get rather messy.
But in a good way.
We head inside to a private room in the restaurant itself, and a few minutes later a couple of female friends of Quan and Hung also turn up. Like the guys, they too are incredibly friendly.
More beer, more food, including a goat hot pot, amongst other dishes, along with several more rice wines, and lots of chatting and laughing.
It was truly a great night, and rather surreal, and once again, just makes me stop and think about the things that we’ve had the opportunity to do, over this Vietnam journey.
All too soon it comes to an end, and this time it’s Hung’s bike I get to sit on, while he looks after the driving side of things, to get me back ‘home’.
A promise to catch up with Quan again after both I get back from the far North, and Lisa arrives, and I’m back to zipping through the streets of Hanoi.
Soon back to the Emerald, I give Hung a heartfelt cảm ơn and farewell, and head inside.
Anh is at the front desk, and recognising each other immediately, we chat for a good twenty minutes.
I loved our, almost nightly, chats last year, and nothing has changed this year. He’s such a lovely guy.
We get interrupted at one stage by a rather rude female hotel guest, who has a perceived problem with something that, apparently, is Anh’s fault.
I really don’t understand the mentality and attitude of some people, with the way they treat people who they consider are below them.
Anh handles the situation with far more patience than I think I could have, and the ‘lovely lady’ heads back up to her room.
The lift doors close, and Anh rolls his eyes, while saying the nationality of the woman.
It was funny, but yep, he is so right.
Upstairs around 10.30pm for another beer, or two, I really don’t need, along with a rather inebriated, almost hour long, chat with Lisa in Europe.
Chat done, and at 11.30pm, I’m also done. My preference would be to make a few notes while the memory of my day, and night, is fresh in my mind, but my ability to do something useful with a pen and paper is somewhat hindered.
Day one on my own in Hanoi complete, with day two to come. And unlike today, there are no appointments or places I need to be tomorrow, and, at the moment, there’s not even really a plan.
That’s alright, we can work it out then.
Cheers,
Scott
seriouslynot 