Welcome to Hanoi

Photos: Vietnam: First Days in Hanoi

On Wednesday morning, I woke up at 4am, just four hours after having fallen asleep. After putting on fresh clothes, packing up and double-checking the room, I retrieved my passport from the hostel lobby desk and went in search of an ATM to pay for a cab to the airport. On the way to a 7/11, which there are bazillions of in Thailand, by the way, a cab driver flagged me down. I told him I was going to an ATM and he waited at the corner for me. He wanted 500 baht, which is silly since the standard price from almost anywhere in Bangkok is 350 baht, and I argued him down to 400 baht. We made it there pretty quick, so I ended up giving him the 400 and calling it good. I checked in to my flight, sent off a few post cards, got a bit to eat with my last couple of baht, and waited for my flight.

You won’t be surprised that I slept from take-off to landing, a mere one hour and forty minutes, but it really did end up reviving me enough to attempt taking on Hanoi.

Arrival was quick and easy: my bag was one of the first off the conveyor belt and immigration/customs was easy. On second glance, I realized that a bunch of maps and a Top Ten Bangkok book that Jeff had given me, which I’d stashed in the side pocket of my big pack, were all gone. There’s no way they could have fallen out, so I’m bummed to say that I think they were taken. Boo!

After grabbing a map from the information center, I got out 400,000 dong from the ATM and went to purchase a sim card for my phone. As it turns out, 400,000 dong isn’t much: only about $20USD, in fact. The sim card cost 250,000 dong and so I had to go take out more cash. Once the sim card was installed and working, I headed out to find a way into the city center. I got lucky and caught a minibus for pretty cheap. Sure, I was seated on a stool squeezed into the corner by the end of one of the rows of seats, but whatever!

My first impression of Vietnam was how flat it was. I didn’t realize I’d gotten used to Thailand’s rolling landscape! On the way from the airport into the city I saw what I think were rice fields, with workers in them, and thousands of motorbikes on the road. The ride was about forty minutes and left me standing in part of Hanoi’s “Old Quarter.” From there, I just started walking.

The couple I was planning to stay with via Couchsurfing were busy during the day, so my plan was to just wander slowly and explore during the day, find somewhere to relax as it got later, and meet up with them for dinner. What I didn’t bank on was my exhaustion coupled with a pretty intense culture shock, plus carrying around both of my packs and the heat.

So I just started walking, turning down the dozen immediate offers of “Taxi?” and “Moto?” from people standing on the sidewalks. I figured out where I was on the map and saw that I was near St. John’s Cathedral, a landmark in the area. That helped me find what direction I should – and should not – go in. As I wandered, I spotted a tour guide office, which turned out to also be a hotel lobby, open to the street. I was perusing their tour offers and thinking of signing up when an energetic older guy started chatting with me.

"Going to Halong Bay? You should go to Halong Bay! And if you need a hotel, you should take our room here, it’s awesome! It’s… here, let me show you.” And he ushered me outside and then turned me around and pointed up to where balconies overlooked the busy street.

“Some people said it’s too noisy but we love it! Don’t we, honey?” At which point an older woman bustled out behind us and stared up at the balcony adoringly.

“Oh, yes, it’s great to look down on the street and see everyone going by. Are you going to Halong Bay? Don’t book here, go to Sinh Cafe and book there, it’s… oh, honey, where is it again?”

These were Canadians Phil and Nina, who adopted me on sight, apparently.

They gabbled back and forth cheerfully as I stood there, a bit dazed. At length they decided to walk me over to where they’d booked their tour, which they’d thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated. On the way they gave me the card of the hotel they were staying at, in case I wanted to stay there; and told me about a great tourist information center, a Citibank ATM where I could withdraw more than at other ATMs, and told me about their upcoming Sapa trek, which they weren’t going to do originally but their absolutely fantastic tour agent had convinced them and they were leaving that very day.

Well, they left me at Sinh Cafe, with Phil popping back in twice after leaving to remind me about and give me directions to the tourist info center and the ATM. The tour agent, whose name I can’t remember, was nice and booked me on the same three day, two night tour of Halong Bay and Cat Ba that the Canadians had so raved about. She also educated me on the open bus ticket, which gave me unlimited access for one month on a bus that makes stops between Hanoi and Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), daily. According to her, it only allows thirty people on at a time and is a “sleeper” bus, meaning the seats actually turn into beds. She showed me a picture and if it’s realistic, then this bus should be much more comfy than the one between Bangkok and Chiang Mai. Time will tell. I booked the ticket and hopefully it works out well! The total damage for the two things she booked me for was about $130. I have no idea if I got ripped off but it didn’t seem to exorbitant to me.

After that, I went to the tourist information center, the highlight of which was the free internet and computers. I spent about half an hour catching up on a few things, then got a map and perused their other freebies. I then went out the opposite side that I’d come in, because I saw a pretty lake with benches around it.

This turned out to be Hoan Kiem Lake, which makes up the southeast corner of the Old Quarter. I plopped myself down onto an empty bench and just stared out at the water, letting everything sink in. It was really a very calming lake, with a pretty, arched red bridge going over to a small island. I decided to just chill for awhile, eating an orange that the tour agent had given me and looking through my guide book. A woman came and sat next to me, attempting to sell me a conical hat and some post cards. Before I’d left the US, I had read a book called “Lost Girls,” about three girls around my age who traveled the world. In Vietnam, they learned that smiling when declining offers seemed to help, and so I employed this technique. While she didn’t leave right away, she did eventually, so I’m going to smile at everyone trying to sell me something so that it doesn’t get combative.

At some point, a couple from the Philippines sat next to me and starting up a chat. The man spoke decent English, but the woman didn’t seem to speak any. He told me I’d been cheated on my tour price (although I don’t really care, I think $70 for three days, transportation, accommodation, food and tour guide included, ain’t bad!) recommended the water puppet show nearby, and in general tried to teach me about always, always bargaining with the Vietnamese since they tried to scam foreigners at all costs. He felt the Vietnamese weren’t friendly and only wanted money. This surprised me quite a bit, although I suppose he was just irritated from recent attempts to overcharge him.

They were fairly nice but I got tired of the negativity and excused myself to go search for somewhere to eat.

I wandered a bit more. Crossing the street is absolutely terrifying here. It’s a constant stream of motorbikes, buses and cars, all honking at each other or at nothing, seemingly, and ignoring what the street lights show. I’ve since learned that inching across the street is the best way to do it, never going backwards and rarely stopping or moving faster (you only do this when a car or bus is coming, since they can’t maneuver around you like the motorbikes can.

Anyway, I sat down at an open air food place and ate what I believe to be some kind of pho, although I’m uncertain of the meat that was in it, which was shaped into small patties. It tasted fine and satisfied my hunger, which was good. I copied another guy sitting near me and shredded some of the greens they had given me on a plate, mixing it into the soup. There was basil, I think, and other tasty greens.

After this I decided to head back to the tourist information center, use the computers and ask for a recommendation on a place to purchase a camera. They showed me on the map where a place called “Pico” was and off I went. On the way, I chatted with an Australian named Andrew. He’d been to Vietnam three times and loved it every time. At this point he was just wandering around Hanoi and he walked me to the camera store, at which point we parted ways. Once inside, I had to do some quick math as I perused the cameras. They had the exact model that I’d lost in Chiang Mai, but it was over $100USD more expensive than when I’d originally purchased it, about a month ago.

I ended up buying a model slightly less sophisticated, 12.1 megapixels instead of 14 and without the HD video. It cost me around $230USD, which hurt, but they threw in a 2 Gig memory card for me, which was nice. About the time I was paying for the camera, my stomach started to roil. I asked for the bathroom and they pointed to the stairs and held up four fingers. That was a tough three flights to climb! Turns out, the street food didn’t particularly agree with me.

Twenty minutes later, I was out on the street again. I needed somewhere air-conditioned, with something cold and clean to drink. I found Ciao Cafe and went in, ordering fresh pineapple juice and minestrone soup. They had free wi-fi so I distracted myself with that as I cooled off and relaxed. I ended up spending about an hour and a half there, ordering a water, grilled cheese sandwich and french fries to ensure I wouldn’t get rushed out. I hate to admit it, but at that point I needed familiar food, however, sub-par.

Relaxed and feeling better, I went to sit on one of the park benches. My chafing problem had returned so I didn’t want to continue wandering. Also, it was starting to get dark and I was uncomfortable, not knowing where it might be safe to hang out with my packs. I considered going back to Ciao Cafe, but then Michaela, my couchsurfing hostess, called me and we made plans to meet up. I was to head to her apartment where I could shower and clean up a bit, and then we would go out for dinner. She coached me on how to relate my destination to a taxi driver or a moto-bike. “Just say, Die Co Viet, Van Ho.” She also told me to expect to pay 20,000-30,000 dong for a moto-bike, more for a taxi. She also recommended a specific taxi company to use, who wouldn’t drive me around the long way.

I watched the street for a bit when suddenly a guy on a motorbike rolled up and said, “Moto bike?” I looked at it doubtfully, wondering how my bag would be balanced, and shook my head no. He waved at me and showed me that he would put my pack between his legs (it was like a Vespa-type bike). Suddenly I wanted to do it, so I agreed and asked the price. He said 100,000 dong. I declined and said 50,000, figuring that it was still double what I should be paying. Then a Vietnamese lady walked up and asked if I was ok, if I needed help. After talking with him, she told me it was fine, I should go and it would be 50,000 dong. So I hopped on nervously behind the guy and off we went.

I think I held my breath for the first half of the ride. To be fair, he was nice and didn’t drive wildly, but that didn’t stop the other crazies from zigging and zagging, swerving and zooming, all around us. At several points when we were going quite fast, I could have reached out and touched the face of other moto-bike drivers, they were that close!

We made it safe and sound, just after having nearly hugged the broad side of a bus. He then demanded 100,000 dong. I was too wigged out to argue and paid the guy, who looked inordinately pleased with himself.

Long story short, Michaela came to meet me and walk me to her place; I showered and powdered and wore a skirt to dinner; we went to a cafe she liked afterwards; and I slept on the floor on a couple of yoga mats and a sleeping bag.

I slept until 10am this morning!

Today, after lunch out with Michaela and Andy, her boyfriend, I walked back to the Old Quarter and visited the Women’s Museum and Hoa Lo prison (called the Hanoi Hilton by American POWs during the Vietnam war, called the American War here in Vietnam). The  former was really interesting and the latter was disturbing. Their depictions of the happiness of the American prisoners, who got to know the culture and the people and regretted having attempted to destroy it, were at extreme odds with what I’ve heard from POWs at various military functions. An interesting (and ironic) factoid about that, though: Hoa Lo prison was actually built by the French (and called “Maison Centrale”) to hold Vietnamese political revolutionaries! In fact, the prison/museum now focuses primarily on that, and on the atrocities committed against the Vietnamese people there, with just two rooms dedicated to the Americans. As my dad mentioned, it’s like the recent Iraqi prison atrocities… built for one population to abuse another, then used by the abused to further abuse others.

At that point I decided to walk back to the apartment and the chafing started in again. It was getting pretty painful to walk, even taking short steps, and of course I got lost. When I finally made it back, I changed into shorts and decided to stay in for the rest of the evening. The chafing had raised big, red welts on my inner thighs. Ugh!

My main impressions of Hanoi so far:

• Very pretty parks and lakes. When you enter the parks or walk on the pathways near the lakes, the din of the city and traffic seems to fade away a bit. It’s still there, in the background, but it’s like the volume has been lowered by remote or something.

 

• Traffic. Imagine US-1 in Miami, during rush hour. Now, change all those cars into motorbikes and have them all honking and beeping, nonstop. That is what the streets are like here almost all the time. When a traffic light turns red, you see about fifty motorbikes inching into the intersection,ready to take off. Crossing the streets is terrifying.
• The Vietnamese like to overcharge. I don’t mean a few thousand dong, or even doubling the price. I’m talking about them charging five, six, ten times what you should be paying. A lady tried to sell me two donut-hole looking things for 20,000 dong tonight. I ended up paying 2,000 dong and I think that I was still overcharged. Granted that $1USD=~20,000 dong, but still… it gets a little irritating.
• Vietnamese youth seem to enjoy practicing their English with English-speakers. Yesterday a group of teenage boys stopped me to say “Hello!” and “Hi!” and “Where are you from?” And they seemed pretty excited that I responded. Today, a group of girls in school uniforms, sitting at a picnic table in a park, called after me to speak with them too. I enjoy talking with them, although when they do in individually it’s usually a prelude to trying to sell me things.
• I love seeing the street vendors who carry their wares on a pole over their shoulders, with baskets balanced to either side or, more often, in front of and behind them.

 

--Z