A plane descends. A cloud of smoke, a smattering of dust, a sky of haze. Hot as hell. Did we end up in Kuala Lumpur by mistake? The crowd rushed off the plane, intent on getting some fresh air (ironic) after 3.5 hours of a headspinning flight, and we follow suit. The first person we see outside of a plane, was a man fully garbed in olive green uniform, the most official and boring colour known to man. He had the full set: beret, army bling, stars, slacks, even a standard-issue belt. The first word, no offense intended of course, that came into my mind was "communist!"
Yeah, we ended up in the right place after all. This was our first steps into the hallowed capital of Vietnam.
Welcome to Hanoi. A colourful, lively, busy capital. A cacophanous, melodious, collage of sounds and sights. A young city living at a metropolitan pace. What struck us first was the traffic, and there was a whole lot of it. Imagine KL, halve the amount of cars and multiply the motorcycles and bicycyles tenfold. For garnishing, remove 90% of the traffic lights.
What you have are road users from all lanes fighting, nay, waging war for a right to be on the road. You could say this was an ultimate exercise in equal rights. You want to change lanes, go for it! You’d like to overtake, please honk before, during, and afterhand! You’d like to walk across a 4-lane road? Raise your arm so they could see you! The locals make very, very liberal use of the honk and brakes. They’d brake (or swerve) for pedestrians, bicycles and trishaws but on the flipside, would not hesitate to start a new lane on the road shoulders and walkways, just in case the main roads were too crowded.
Yet, as much as we’d like to say Hanoi is a relatively safe place on the road, where the people look out for each other, where there is some order amongst the chaos; we still cross the roads with palpitations and prayers in our hearts. In 4 days in Vietnam, we have witnessed no less than 3 minor road accidents: motorbike vs motorbike, motorbike vs bicycle, motorbike vs lorry.
The city is packed, make no mistake about it. Every nook and corner left to be explored by foot, or simply by the imagination. Shops of all kinds line up the streets, selling souvenirs, pirated backpacks, cheap beer, fancy footwear… temptations chanting the name of the first-timer tourist. The first thing we notice upon setting foot on the country: nothing has a price tag on, and you are given free liberty to haggle and bargain your way through what is a relatively reasonable price. Before a local walks by and pays half of what you bargained to the death for, and sneers at your face. 
Is it safe to say that every local is after the money of a tourist? After 12 days the best answer I can muster is: probably. The photo above shows the first con-job of the day, not 2 minutes upon walking the streets of Hanoi. A fruit seller would, in one fluid motion, beckon you to wear the funny hat and hoist her mobile fruit stall while gesturing "photo, photo". Thinking it was a friendly gesture and warm introduction to the people and culture of Vietnam, I obliged… and not a minute later succumbed to a fantastic marketing scheme: Photo plus fruits (a puny bag of pineapples) for 10,000 dong, or RM2. Was she smiling all the way after that? You bet.
Amidst the bustling, hustling, frustrated symphony of honks in the city, we managed to grab a bite to eat, with one rule: no restaurant food. See a place filled with locals, ask the price, and point-point-point. This decision led us to some of the most tremendous street food we have tasted. You would have noticed from a photo way up that everyone sits on short stools for a bite. This is essentially true for local food. Food stalls are practically at every street corner, mobile and limited, as the sellers hurrily leave after having sold out their food. Willing and hungry commuters, locals, men in suits, dating couples, daring tourists, all huddle around the food stall which is normally limited to one food item. Sitting on the small stools proved tricky the first time around, and by the time we got used to it, it was time to leave.
A welcome reprieve from the frenzied movement/blur of the city, was the stillness of the lake, located in the centre of town. A surprise it was then, that within the stillness we could finally take the time to take in, and reflect, what was around us at the time. Hanoi, after all, is still a place of startling beauty and contrasts, a place considered safe enough for kids to roam the streets at night, and for enough tourists walking everywhere to realise that tourism is in fact a pillar of Vietnamese economy. Tourists are everywhere. Maybe they wanted somewhere cheap, exotic, and culturally 360 degrees around, so they could tell all their friends back home what they were missing out.
For the three of us, was it any different? It was a slow, serene, borderline-philosophical moment at the lake, before the silence was broken by a man with a box in hand, peddling contraband copies of Lonely Planet guides. We moved on.
We talked to many friendly people that day. Travel agents, hotel managers, food stall operators, marketplace workers, freelance salesmen with pirated goods… and they are, at the very least, genuine in their words and intentions, and at best, fantastic conversationalists and personalities. A pity then that most of the locals do not speak a word of English, and for us the 12 days was a labourious cycle of looking up the language book, hand gestures, sign language, facial expressions and thumbs up for anything good. Bill Murray circa Lost In Translation all over again. Misunderstandings are commonplace, and some bargaining can get pretty heated/hated, but we took it all in stride. After all, we were the unfunny yonks invading their country, and would we have not been equally frustrated if someone talked to you in an entirely foreign language in the streets of KL?
A few Vietnamese words we armed ourselves with. "Ve sinh" was the obvious first essential word (toilet), followed swiftly by "Ban muy thien" (how much?)… and we figured out "good morning" and "how are you today my good sir, fancy a spot o’ tea" could pretty much be substituted by a hand wave, so no use learning those. And though tempting, we stifled the need to learn the phrase "we’re gonna liberate your asses" in Vietnamese because it just ain’t too friendly. The (relatively) cruelest, meanest people we’ve ever met in our entire tenure, came from guys (fairly obvious), deep in the heat of bargaining.
While haggling for a taxiride that (according to the bible ie Lonely Planet guidebook) should cost 30,000 dong, a serious discrepancy erupted when the taxi driver insisted on 150,000 dong. Upon disclosing to him that we indeed know that this ride only cost what we are prepared to pay (30,000), his reply was swift: "30,000 you walk." Splendid. Another incident involved, again, Lonely Planet guidebooks, which were all the rage. Sellers’ price: US$10-15. Our price: US$2-3. Reply: "you are crazy".
Night falls fairly quickly in Vietnam. By 5pm be prepared to see sunset, and by 6pm it’s all dark. Yet, the volume of traffic and amount of people remain the same, only in different clothing, and in shades of sepia. As we walk the streets of Hanoi at night, it dawned upon us to seek accomodation as soon as possible. And here’s the thing. Even hotel stay prices are negotiable. Something between US$2-3 per person would give you a fantastic room with a view, your own bathroom and satellite TV. It’s a gorgeous, economical existence in Vietnam throughout. Perhaps subliminally telling us to spend more on the streets? They forgot to note the distinct detail that we are 3 young, (temporarily) jobless, absolutely kedekut specimens of Chinese male, so bring it on!
Would we say we were charmed by Hanoi? As Ned Flanders would say, absotively posilutely. Nightfall in Hanoi beings life to a slow-down, and for once the whole day, you can see the streets emptying. The French-inspired architecture around the whole city finally begging for attention from the wary eye. And at this particular time, there is a eerie beauty to things. The photo above captures it all. A time-out for the tired, a smoke break for the common man, as we retire to the hotel room, while snapping photographs atop the balcony.
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