Sunday 3 September – Hanoi
6.00am. It’s becoming a habit.
Not happening, so back to sleep.
7.30am. Better. But still not happening.
Sleep, doze, just lay there, and all of a sudden it’s 8.30am.
Could quite happily continue just laying here, but I need to make an appearance in the dining room, just in case Jenny wants me to chat with the newly arrived Aussies.
I head down, Jenny is there, and I take a seat.
The table next to me has two Australians at it, and a few minutes later another two turn up to join them.
I’m not sure if they’re the ones who arrived yesterday, so I look over towards Jenny. She subtlety gives me a sign that that’s them, so while I enjoy my simple breakfast of fruit and cà phê sữa đá, once again disappointing the restaurant staff by not ordering something more substantial, I try to come up with a way to start a conversation.
It’s difficult, as they’re so wrapped up in conversation between themselves, they’re too busy to acknowledge anyone else.
I then notice the earrings that one of the older women is wearing. It’s a beer bottle top, and of course, because I collect them, my interest is piqued.
A lull in conversation, and I use it as my in. It works, and the ice is broken.
It’s a husband and wife, a mother / mother-in-law, along with a friend, and it’s their first time in Vietnam.
We chat for a bit, they’re all very easy to talk to, and there doesn’t seem to be any anger or disappointment with the room issue of yesterday.
The topic of conversation, obviously, becomes all about Vietnam, and I give them a few tips on where to go, and what to see.
They’re very appreciative, and the guy even shakes my hand as they head off.
Feeling quite pleased with myself at restoring Vietnam / Australian / Holiday Emerald relations, I sit back and enjoy my remaining cà phê sữa đá.
As I do, another woman, also an Aussie, approaches, and immediately asks about exchanging money.
I’m a little bit taken aback, as that particular topic hadn’t been talked about when I was talking to the other four. I can only assume she heard me say something about the number of times I’d visited Vietnam, and decided I might be able to help her.
Anyway, as I’m always up for a chat on anything Vietnam related, we spend a few minutes discussing exchange options.
Turns out she already knew about Hang Bac Street, and all the gold / jewellery shops, as she’s actually been here before.
Second good deed of the day done, I head back up to the room to get ready.
Back downstairs, a chat with Jenny, and outside around 10.30am, with the loose plan of aimless walking in the direction of the Mausoleum.
Up Hang Bong, onto Dien Bien Phu Street, and I quickly reach the train line, otherwise known by, perhaps only in my opinion, the ridiculous name of ‘train street’.
It has a barricade across it, and is patrolled by a police officer and a security guard to protect people from themselves, by not allowing it to return to the circus it had become, prior to Covid.
‘Closed’.
On to the Military Museum, with Lenin looking from across the road, and there’s plenty of people about. Nothing like the lake the last couple of days, but the long weekend celebration is certainly continuing.
A bit past the museum I notice a very nervous looking western girl, navigating her way with a paper map. We cross a rather busy, and wide, road, around the same time, and judging by the way she completes the task, it appears to be a relatively new experience, and one that she is nowhere near comfortable doing.
Two good deeds already done for the day, I decide to see if I can make it three.
Catching up to her, I strike up a conversation, and ask her if she needs any help with directions. She doesn’t; unlike Lisa, she can read a map; but she’s up for a chat, anyway.
Turns out she’s Spanish, from Barcelona to be exact, and it’s her first time here. Which, judging by her attempt at crossing the road, surprises me not one little bit.
And her thoughts on Hanoi?
She likes it. But she finds it all a bit hectic. Of which the long weekend won’t be helping in that regard.
But she also has a problem with the smog, and the number of cars and bikes on the street. She thinks they should go back to riding bicycles, which I find slightly amusing, as well as a little condescending.
I don’t think she meant it in a condescending way though, so I’ll put it down to the fact that English is clearly not her native language.
Getting closer to the Mausoleum, of which I assumed she was intending to at least look at, she goes to make moves to head off to the left, apparently in search of One Pillar Pagoda, and maybe Uncle Ho’s house.
That first reminds me that we are yet to actually make it to both those ‘attractions’, after all these visits, but putting that realisation to one side, I tell her she should probably come to see what I’m going to look at.
She agrees, and a few minutes later, the Mausoleum comes into view.
Yep, she’s impressed, and I’m a little surprised that she knew about a pagoda and a fairly old, but probably also fairly significant, house, but not this large and imposing looking building.
We make our way over to the centre of the square, but still out on the footpath, and take in the scene before us.
I am always in awe of the scale of both the building and the area, but today I’m also absolutely blown away by the number of people here.
There’s so many around; the queue to get in is just incredible, and I’ve just never seen it like this.
Bit busier than I’ve ever seen it!
But there’s probably a reason for that, as I’ve always been of the belief that at this time of year, which is usually when we travel here, that Uncle Ho is back in Russia receiving his annual maintenance.
Maybe something has changed in that regard???
A few more photos, a bit more chatting, and my Spanish friend heads off to find her initial targets.
Off in the direction of West Lake, but not before taking a lone selfie or two, in honour of what Lisa and I always do when we’re up here.
Just because….
Up to West Lake, and while it’s all rather grey and gloomy, as well as a little hazy, there’re plenty of people around.
As I walk between the two lakes, the number of people increases, with many posing for photos in front of flower laden bicycles.
Bikes and flowers means photos. Apparently.
I’m not really sure why it’s a thing, and I don’t actually see any money changing hands, but it does all look rather pretty.
The earlier cà phê sữa đá has made its way through me, so the lookout is on to find a, what can be elusive, public toilet.
As luck would have it, I do actually find one a few minutes later, and even better, it doesn’t require a 5000 Dong note to be handed over.
I enter, and immediately stop breathing through my nose, as well as avert my gaze, as much as is safely permitted.
Yep, while relief is attained, I’m certainly reminded that you get what you pay for….
Back out into the ‘fresh’ air, and around to Ngu Xa Island in Truc Bach Lake. Local café, which I’m pretty sure is the one we’ve been to before, is found, and because it’s been a while, and I now have room, a cà phê sữa đá is ordered.
Seat taken overlooking the lake, cà phê sữa đá savoured, all while watching more swan boats than I’ve ever seen, being paddled out on the water.
Yep, swan boats….
Pretty much everything I’ve seen this weekend, I’ve seen before. And while I never tire of seeing the same things, because really, you always see something different each time, I’ve never really seen these places looking the way they currently do.
A public holiday long weekend will probably do that, and I’m glad I made the decision to spend a few more nights in Hanoi than I had originally planned, prior to realising when the holiday actually was.
And there were two reasons for that, with one being that I wanted to see Hanoi in a festive and holiday mood, but probably more importantly, I didn’t want to be away with the masses, in a holiday / tourist type destination.
And with my next port of call being Sapa, that would most definitely have been one of those high, domestic, tourist destinations.
Cà phê sữa đá (30 000 Dong) done, I head off, marvelling at the sheer number of people who have a desire to pedal a swan boat.
Off the island, and wanting to once again see the very authentic nearby local market, that we always seem to come across purely by accident, I set about finding it.
I can’t, and I have to first revert to Google maps, and then retrace my steps.
It’s eventually found, but it looks and feels a little different. Smaller, perhaps? I’m not sure, but it is somehow different.
I find the fruit and vegetable ladies, who seem keen to sell me something, and then one of the seafood vendors, who is moving rather large fish from one bucket to a bigger one.
Stopping to watch the process – they’re such slippery looking things; I manage to end up with water splashed all up my leg, as one pretty big fish resists the offer of being held, and flicks his back half quite fiercely, as the inevitable transfer takes place.
Moving on, now suitably cooled, but also slightly more uncomfortable, I find the frog guy.
We’ve seen the frog guy here a couple of times before, but this frog guy is a different frog guy, and is actually in a different area.
I watch, still with a dripping leg, as he goes about the process of, well, processing frogs.
Frog selected, frog placed on chopping board, frog guy introduces frog to meat cleaver, meat cleaver removes frog’s head.
The now headless frog is then placed in a bowl, with his mates who had their turn before him, where he either lays motionless, or continues to wriggle and squirm.
One even jumps out, doing several backflips in the process, before coming to a sudden stop, upside down, on the concrete floor.
It’s both fascinating and brutal, and probably also cruel, as I’m not convinced all of the head is removed, with it perhaps it being more only the frog’s face, in a lot of cases.
Frog guy doing his thing.
Finally managing to turn away, I head back outside, and make my way back in the general direction of the Old Quarter.
No maps; just a rough idea of the way, helped slightly, but by no means with supreme confidence, by having walked these roads last year.
There’s plenty about, even in this area, with more of those flower laden bicycles for people to pose in front of, along with many stalls full of upmarket looking moon cakes, which I’m assuming are for the mid-Autumn festival.
Turn off the main road, and yep, we’ve been down here before. It’s Pot Plant Street, but minus the plants, as it’s just pots they sell.
Turn left a bit further up, and up ahead, and overhead, is the train line.
Into the Old Quarter, and there, as expected, are a couple of bia hoi places, as well as the thit cho restaurants.
Being only 1.00pm, it’s a bit early for beer, and while it most certainly is lunch time, thit cho isn’t really my preferred option.
I eventually reach Bat Dan, and then just down a bit, I find a promising looking lunch place.
They’re busy, like really busy, but they give me absolutely no love at all.
Disappointed, and a little annoyed, I head off to find an alternative.
Around a corner or two, and a second promising looking option is found. Not quite as busy as the first, but the people they are busy with, are locals.
I head over, and like the first place, I get next to nothing in acknowledgement.
An older local, already enjoying his lunch, sees me, and motions to take a seat next to the table he’s sitting at.
I give him a cảm ơn as I do so, very appreciative that he cared enough to make the effort.
A bowl of soup quickly turns up, and it comes with a large crispy wonton thing, some soft wantons, pork, prawn, mushroom, some liver; great….; egg, and herbs, all served with what looks to be two minute noodle type things.
It looks good, but….
It’s nice, but not great, with the noodles just being too hard and chewy for my liking.
I battle through, and while I hate leaving food, I just can’t finish it all. Not because I didn’t like it, but more because of how much there was.
Bill of 45 000 Dong is paid, eventually, seeing as no one appeared to be in any great hurry to complete the transaction – difficult, because of language challenged foreigner? – and I head off back to the Emerald.
Almost at Hang Manh, the yellow chair thieves have another crack at me; they’re certainly persistent; and then back ‘home’.
Jenny is at the desk, so we chat for a while, and the good news is that there have been no more issues with incorrect Agoda bookings.
Upstairs for a short rest and recovery session, and then back outside a bit after 2.00pm to retrieve, what is hopefully, now clean clothes.
Out of Hang Manh, and down to my nước mía đá guy, who gives me a smile when he recognises me.
I like that.
10 000 Dong handed over, and refreshment attained, as I make my way to see Cammy.
Her co-worker is also there, so we sit and chat for a bit. They haven’t had a very good day, with unfriendly and demanding tourists impacting it, and a few stories they tell me of that unfriendliness, well, just make me cringe.
I don’t understand people, sometimes. Especially ones who are guests in someone else’s country.
Two tourists stick their head in, asking for directions to Note Coffee. Cammy begins to explain, while I help.
Fourth good deed of the day done, they thank Cammy, but completely ignore me, and head off to no doubt write silly things on ‘Post It’ notes.
Been there, done that….
Chat done, a heartfelt thank you given for helping with the laundry issue, and a true ‘see you later’, as in just a week and a half, with the promise of catching up when I get back from Sapa and Bac Ha.
And it was far, far easier than the ‘year long’, or even longer, ones, that it usually is.
Up to the Emerald to dispose of the clean clothes, as well as start to get organised for tomorrow morning’s early start, including working out what won’t be coming with me.
Getting close to 4.00pm, it’s back downstairs to fix up the hotel bill; wallet happier, me less so; and then down my favourite street, and up Bat Dan.
Seat taken, beer quickly arrives, and it’s the young guy, who I’m trying to win over, but not in that weird way, who is looking after me.
And today, he does actually look a little more comfortable, which is good to see.
The cat shows up, and I use it as a conversation starter.
Well, while the language barrier presented somewhat of a problem, I now believe the cat is male, and his name is something like Abu.
It’s a start, and as he realises I’m Australian, he immediately says, “Kangaroo!”
Haha, yes!
He then says something else, but I’m a little confused.
He begins drawing on his hand – I’m still confused – but then all over a sudden it looks a little reptile-y.
“Ahhh, crocodile!”, I say.
He nods, and smiles.
I love it!
It was all rather funny, and I love that he feels, and looks, more comfortable in what he’s doing.
A few beers, the world watched, including the rubbish collection ladies, and it begins to rain. Not heavily, but a bit more than just drizzle.
Recycling lady. And two of the three guys I watched each day, returning after doing their ‘rubbish’ thing.
Not quite ready to go, especially while it’s raining, so another beer is ordered while playing with my cat friend.
Close to 6.00pm, it’s time, so I head back down towards the Emerald, stopping briefly to watch something that used to merely be stainless steel sheets, being strapped on the back of a bike in anticipation of a delivery.
They really are an ingenious race.
It needs to be done, and it will be done!
Into the hotel, upstairs to make myself look presentable – not sure to who…. – and to pack so I don’t have to do it, or at least do much, in the morning.
Gee I hate packing….
Finally sorted, and it’s back outside for dinner. And because it was good, and because it’s close, and because it’s not bun cha, I head back round the corner to my phở place, from last night.
The girl sees me coming, points me in the direction of a free chair, and as I take a seat, says, “Beer?”
“Yes please!”, is my not at all surprising response.
She then asks if I want the same dish as last night, or would I prefer something different?
I don’t really know, and while there is a type of menu board as such, they all kind of look the same to me.
Rather than picking myself, I put it on her, asking which one is the ‘best’, which is a term I really hate.
That little annoyance probably comes from TripAdvisor, with people asking ‘Which is the best Halong Bay cruise?’, ‘Which is the best hotel in whichever city?’, ‘Which is the best….whatever?’
It grates, a bit like ‘conflicting information’….
Anyway, she points to a dish on the board, which appears to be a little more expensive at 70 000 Dong.
Ok, no problem, we’ll do something different!
It soon arrives, as too does the beer, and just like last night, it’s good. As in really good.
Better than last night?
Pffft, I don’t know. To me it’s just phở, with absolutely no downplaying of the phở intended, when I use the word, ‘just’.
Yep, and not for the first time, food is just a little wasted on me, with it very much being a case of ‘eat to live’.
Same, same, but different.
As I’m finishing, an older guy, who may be the grandfather, sits next to me with two little kids, who look like they may be his grandchildren.
The young girl, who is maybe 5 or 6 years old, is fascinated by me, and can’t stop looking.
I say hello, and she returns the favour with a smile, and once again, it’s all about the little interactions.
I love it, and again, I love that they sometimes take an interest in me.
Dinner done, bill paid, and I head off towards Bat Dan. There’s a few there, and while it’s busy-ish, it’s nothing like last night.
I’m quickly back doing my thing, and once again, my young guy is looking after me.
The woman from last year, the quieter more reserved one, who I’ve not seen over the last few days, walks past, acknowledging me as she does.
I’m not sure if she remembers, but it’s good to see her again after all this time.
The usual sights continue to unfold in front of me, including my much admired rubbish ladies, and not for the first time today, it begins to rain.
Not torrential by any means, but steadier than this afternoon, and certainly heavy enough for ponchos to make an appearance.
There are so many different varieties, all suited for differing requirements, and many worn or used in rather unique ways.
Including the young boy on his dad’s shoulders, with his poncho helping to also keep dad dry, but at the same time, somewhat impeding dad’s vision.
A few more beers, and while I couldn’t be happier, it’s all starting to catch up a little.
Yes, no doubt the beer, but it’s mainly just tiredness, with all the walking, and far too many late nights.
My eyes also feel irritated, and while that might also be late night related, I suspect it may also have something to do with the smog of Hanoi.
The move is made around 9.30pm, I give my beer guy a hẹn gặp lại, and use Google Translate to tell him I’ll be back in a week or so.
Back down Bat Dan, into Stainless Steel Street, and a quick stop into my convenience store.
Yep, she knows me.
A couple of beers, along with a packet of chips, and when I hand over the money, she immediately hands back 10 000 Dong.
I’d like to blame her English when she told me how much, but I can’t, as her English is excellent.
It was solely me, due to my inability at times, to concentrate on what I am doing.
Payment sorted, and she mentions the tattoos by asking if they’re new?
“Yes, sort of”, and I set about explaining.
She then says, while pointing, “Saigon dragon!”
“Yep”, I say with a smile, suspecting she now thinks, or knows, I have an obsession with beer.
She’s lovely, and I let her know that I’ll be back after the Sapa trip.
She probably doesn’t really care, but I feel like I need to let her know, as I think we have this little relationship now.
Back out, no offers of massage forthcoming, and past the touting thieves at the end of the street. Up Hang Manh, into the Emerald, and with no Anh tonight, it’s straight upstairs for the usual on the bed.
My solo Hanoi stay is essentially done, and while it’s probably time for some countryside, I’m not completely convinced about it being done, initially anyway, near Sapa.
It’s a place we’ve never been to, and it’s a place that, since the planning of that very first trip, held very little appeal for me.
There were a couple of reasons for that, with one being the hassle of getting there by night train, with the kids, and two, and this was the main one, how touristy it was, even back then.
Yep, a bit like a ‘traditional’ Halong Bay cruise, which we also managed to avoid, it just did not appeal at all.
But now, my avoidance of the place will come to an end, when I get to ‘visit’ Sapa.
Well, maybe not ‘visit’ it, as it will be more just ‘see’ it, when the bus drops me off.
Still, it feels a little strange, when I hear myself saying, “I’m going to Sapa”.
But Sapa will be Sapa, and my homestay in a nearby village will be what it is, but that can all wait until tomorrow.
Right now I have one last beer to finish, and while doing that, it’s hard not to think about the early start.
Pick up is sometime between 6.30 and 7.00am, and that fills me with a fair amount of dread.
Beer is finished, dread lingers, and lights are out just before 11.30pm.
So very proud of myself.
Sort of….
Cheers,
Scott
seriouslynot 