Hanoi, part 2

As the week continued, I got increasingly brave and decided to put myself in a taxi to the Old Quarter. This is the Hanoi that's well known to tourists. It's a densely packed area chock full of streetside restaurants, bars, coffee shops and tiny shops selling anything and everything. It's heat and motorbike exhaust personified and is a fascinating place to wander.

Ancient mingles with modern and people watching becomes a wonderful game to play.

Every corner yields a different piece of architecture, from Catholic Cathedrals to bamboo ladders:

The Old Quarter was the Vietnam I'd experienced on a previous trip to the country. Sights, smells, fruits, vegetables, I loved it, if only briefly. The smells, sights and sounds became overwhelming after a while so I was grateful for the eventual reprieve back to Rosa's.

Next to the Old Quarter, Hoan Kiem Lake also provides a little greenery to the otherwise dusty environs.

And perhaps my most favourite agenda item was Rosa's recommendation. They took me a while to find but train tracks traverse the country from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh and back. Dubbed the 'Reunification Express', the train connects these two major cities, traversing nearly 3,000 kilometers of coastline in 34-hours. Service is once-daily. In Hanoi, the train is famous in that it closely skirts the houses of local residents. The train track community has becomes its own little working microcosm of the city:

 

On my final day in Hanoi, I hopped onto Rosa's motorbike one final time in order to attend a Vietnamese cooking class near her work. I prayed for the entire final journey, something I don't often do these days. When I dismounted for the last time, I felt an intense sense of relief. It was this relief that distracted me and I lost my balance, catching the muffler of the neighbouring motorbike with the back of my calf. The skin instantly sizzled and blistered; as I howled, Rosa ran in to the neighbouring coffee shop who had supplies ready for this kind of emergency. And this, my friends, is how I truly inaugurated myself into Hanoi living. Call it a Hanoi kiss, a Hanoi tattoo, a Hanoi big ass scar but it's a bit of a rite of passage. One I'd rather have lived without.

But onwards! Minutes later, I met up with Mai and Huan, the friendly family running the Basil Cooking Club out of their home. My cooking class included a guided tour of the market, a family house tour (including visit to the aaamazing bonsai garden) and even a trip to the pharmacy to obtain some cream for my newly appointed second degree burn.

Once back in the courtyard, I learned the finer points of making Vietnamese spring rolls, a tofu dish and some fried vegetables. I even learned the finer art of delicious dipping sauces. I've not tried to replicate these dishes since but this is no judgement on the class. It was an enlightening way to spend a few hours and I'd definitely recommend it.

And on my last evening, Rosa took me to tick something off her Hanoi bucket list, walk the Long Bien Bridge. Built in 1903 by French architects, the bridge spans the Red River and has become a symbol for the city's strength and resilience. Many attempts were made to bomb the bridge during the American War (aka the Vietnam War) but it remained a stalwart symbol.

Although there was a pedestrian pavement (see above, right), motorbikes took this as an opportunity to skirt around traffic. So as we dangled above the Red River dodging motorbikes and taking in the scenery below including workers processing fresh pineapples, amongst other delights:

  

Early the next morning, I bid Rosa an early farewell and made my way back to Shanghai for a final farewell of my 2014-2016 life. Tears to come.