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.

Hanoi, part 1

My almost-final stop in the grand ten-week get back to London adventure took me to Hanoi, Rosa's home away from home. Whilst Rosa was at work I entertained myself during the days and she showed me the city by evening. It was an eventful five days; between heat stroke, motorbike mishaps and generally profuse sweating, I can attest that Hanoi is the crazy cousin you try to avoid but end up getting roped into a grand, ridiculous adventure with.  And it's hotter than an oven. 

Tay Ho

Largely considered the 'expat' area, this is where Rosa resides. At its centre, a large lake looms. Although it's a lake in name only; no one swims there, nor do they eat the fish. There was some apparent seafood scandal rocking the city that no one quite knew specific details about. That aside, this part of the city also boasted a wide range of Western restaurants, a brewery and cafes to sup strong, sugary Vietnamese coffee in. 

The more residential streets of Tay Ho are a bit more traditional and consist of winding little lanes where the occasional house and apartment block interrupt the path. Outside Rosa's block, a conglomeration of wires and telephone cables dangle haphazardly. On day two, men worked on the lines, cutting the power in the block. There's no better way to ensure people leave their abodes than by cutting off their access to cool. 

My favourite respite became Cong Caphe, a delight of a small Vietnamese coffee chain made particularly famous for their frozen coconut Vietnamese coffee. I frequented both the Tay Ho and Old City branches when the heat got to be too much, which was roughly after five minutes in baking heat and humidity.

I only learned to stop and take a heat break after my first afternoon in the city. Rosa and I walked around the lake to go get her bike fixed. I'm not certain if it was the direct beating rays of fire, the dehydration from flying or something else entirely, but I developed a particularly strange case of confusion and exhaustion. This turned into nausea and chills and it turns out these are the precise symptoms of heat stroke. Lying in a darkened, air-conditioned apartment for hours seemed to be the only resolution to the matter, which is how I found myself down for the count on Day 1. 

Journey Towards the Old Quarter 

On Day 2, I decided to take a decidedly less strenuous plan. Blogging, sitting, massage ensued. And when Rosa got home from work, I put on my big girl pants (as well as her spare helmet) and toured the city of five million motorbikes (this is not an exaggeration) on the back of Rosa's hog. I was terrified. I still am terrified thinking about it today. This is no slant on Rosa's driving. This is a slant on the apparent lack of road rules in Vietnam. The reality is that chaos reigns supreme in the way that no rules become rules; there is a strange beauty in the mass movement of motors.

As I screamed noiselessly into my helmet, Rosa weaved in and out of traffic towards Ba Dinh Square, the final resting place of Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam's great revolutionary leader. On the way, we paused at various temples and pagodas; I think this one is called Tran Quoc Pagoda but I could be wrong:

There was something illustrious about this particular structure. I want to say it was the oldest in the city and/or country but I might be making that up: 

At Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum, we felt the gravity and weight of history behind us. That, and the power of the Communist ideology. It was more than a little bit eerie.

Our final stop, the Melia Hanoi hotel, which boasted a fantastic rooftop view:

More madness to come!

Summer in Review

This morning I intended to wake up and take a nice long walk around the Tay Ho environs of Hanoi, my current locale and penultimate stop on my summer 2016 Great Asian Adventure. These plans were abruptly thwarted when I stepped outside: my phone read 33c, feels like 41. It makes more of an impact in Fahrenheit: 91, feels like 106.  

I lasted seven minutes before ducking into a coffee shop and in all honesty, I'm surprised I even made it that long. I am a hot mess in quite a literal way and have taken to carrying around a little hedgehog hankie to manage. It's as glamourous as sweating will ever be. 

Fortunately, the heat is good for banishing me to the indoors otherwise I might never get around to sitting down and blogging the summer escapades. Considering I've yet to finish blogging last summer's adventures or the end of China, it's a small consolation.

Seven weeks later, the end of the 2015-16 school year feels a far and distant past. I'm holding onto hope that the trains, planes and automobiles of this adventure do something to diminish the reverse culture shock I am anticipating upon London return. By the end of this summer, I will have taken 21 flights (sorry carbon footprint), traversed seven countries and linked up with travel buddies of the American, British and Kiwi persuasions. 

The brief breakdown:

Week 1: Hawaii 

Week 2-3: Japan

Week 4: Singapore and Malaysia

Week 5: Malaysia (peninsular)

Week 6: Borneo (still part of Malaysia)

Week 7: Bali 

Week 8: Hanoi and Shanghai

Week 9-10: Michigan 

Week 11: Home (London)

It would be an understatement to say it's been epic. I may never finish blogging it. 

Flying in Style

I'm probably luckier than most but i've had the odd situation where I've been upgraded from coach to business class on short and long haul flights.  The last time it happened, my mom cried to Delta because one of my Christmas flights stateside was cancelled due to an inch of snow at Heathrow.  It's plush--champagne on arrival, lie down seats, a real duvet.   It's the way to fly; it also really spoils you.

So I toyed with the idea of paying for business class upgrades on our way home from Vietnam.  After two action-packed weeks on various coaches, bikes and flights, all we wanted was a hassle free 16-hour journey where we could fall blissfully to sleep.  In the end, my practical side won out and we boarded onto our comfortable but not spacious seats on the flight from Ho Chi Minh to Dubai.  8 hours and a run across the terminal later, we checked in to our next flight.  Only the flight attendant took one look at my ticket, ripped it up and issued me a new one in row 3.  Paul was beside himself until the flight attendant issued him one next to me.  The girls behind us were not so fortunate--they'd booked their tickets separately and only one friend got the upgrade.

coach

 

free business class upgrade 

And okay, we were a bit more than enthusiastic--we had our country folk gone to the city moment(s).

Paul commenced sleeping in the zzzz position almost immediately as I enjoyed my glass of Moet with my noise canceling headphones.  I enjoyed my not-plastic cutlery.  I slept and watched films intermittently. And the flight attendants were nice to us, nice. Really, really nice.  

Upon our arrival into London eight hours later, Paul finally woke up and we stumbled off the plane and back into reality.  It was a charming end to a fabulous holiday.  Vietnam part two coming one day!

Food Glorious Food

From region to delicious region, Vietnamese food never disappointed.  Despite my pescatarianism, I was able to find a range of culinary delights--from soups, to sandwiches, to fried wonders.   Paul was particularly cautious; with his immune system weaknesses he didn't want to test out the viability of his travel insurance.  But still, we found food that was: 1. cheap, 2. delicious, 3. non-stomach-cutting-up 

Some areas were better than others and we had to do a lot of digging for the authentic, particularly in Nha Trang, but we did well.  My friends staying in Nha Trang were disappointed with the food overall and didn't have as much luck as us.  But we also braved breakfast soup stands, market stalls and the odd bahn mi stand.  

Inside Ben Thanh Market in Ho Chi Minh, the home of the world's best Pho and Bun Cha

heat, humidity and a hot bowl of pho

chopstick skills 

Bahn Mi, influenced by French colonialism but oh so Vietnamese.  The bread is lighter and crispier than a baguette and the bahn mi sidewalk vendor filled my version with a nondescript (better that way) spread, laughing cow cheese and a variety of fresh herbs and vegetables.  Paul's version included an oddly packaged sausage. Both were almost painfully spicy, though we asked for mild spice. 

Miss Sau's establishment in Hoi An, home of the 'white rose', an amazing steamed dumpling native to the central region of Vietnam 

Fried pork spring rolls and a noodle concoction to rival all noodle concoctions at our favourite little roadside place in Ho Chi Minh 

The favourite place in Ho Chi Minh, a short walk from our hotel and in the middle of district 3 

Roadside fruit vendors 

The obligatory Paul's-on-holiday-doughnut-picture 

coconuts with a straw under an umbrella moving down the street 

Fast food; a noodle stand connected to a motor bike outside the main market.  More impressively, we saw this man on the move, cooking noodles with one hand and driving with the other.  

Maybe it was the excessive sweating, but the food felt cleansing and healthy.  Ish. Maybe. It could definitely be argued though that the food alone is reason enough to trek to Vietnam. 

Nha Trang

Once we finally managed to get to our room, Nha Trang became a haven of all luxuries a median London salary can buy. For $60 a night, we booked ourselves into the 4-star Michelia Hotel located on the quiet end of the busy strip that was Nha Trang's nightlife.  This suited us fine; besides drunk Russians, the tourist centre gravitated around strip clubs and bars pumping out loud rave music late into the night.  

Besides not ordering room service, we spent a lot of the late afternoons reclining in air-conditioning and enjoying our sideways sea view.  Michelia really spoiled our ability to book a hotel in Europe ever again.

That aside, we also had a wonderful base for exploring the 'reality' of Nha Trang.  For us, this meant wandering away from the centre and instead Northwest into markets, sipping Pho at street vendors where Paul had his first encounter with a giant rat and sitting on quieter strips of beach.  That was fabulous.  People were kind and either smiled or ignored us.  We found a restaurant on a random residential road that served us a tabletop BBQ grill made of stone.  We cooked our squid and prawns on our table and left $8 lighter.  

We also discovered Nha Trang's Catholic Cathedral, a cinderblock wonder with delightfully Asian touches.  Notably, the LED backlit crucifix at the altar, above the statue of Mary, etc: 

We got into a bit of trouble trying to backtrack to the beach, mostly that we had no idea where we were and signs like this were only modestly helpful: 

 

 When we eventually found the strip of sand that was the beach, it was admittedly beautiful. Unlike Hoi An though, this beach ran along a busy thoroughfare of a road and touts wandered in and out of beach chairs selling their wares.  My particular favourite was this woman, whom I dubbed 'Lobster Lady':

 She carried a gigantic stick balancing, on one side, a pot of prawns, squid and lobsters on ice and on the other side, a charcoal grill well-fired and ready to cook.

 The process was remarkable.  I was only sad that we'd just eaten breakfast so I wasn't able to partake in Lobster on the beach.

 Besides that, I wasn't charmed by anything the tourist centre had to offer.  Food was relatively expensive and mediocre compared to other places on the rest of our trip and the setting felt altogether too brash.  There were charms to be found but we had to go digging.  With only two weeks in Vietnam, it's not exactly what we wanted.

One temporary reprieve--we found the Thap Ba Hot Springs, a resort-like venue north of Nha Trang that, for a nominal fee (can't remember at the moment, sorry) dipped you in hot spring mud, laid you out like a pig in stink and then massaged all your woes away.  Entry also included access to the geothermal swimming pools, waterfall and hot tubs.  Definitely worth a visit:

 

Alas, after three days of relaxing and beach hopping, we learned from past mistakes and booked ourselves onto a flight from Nha Trang to Ho Chi Minh.  This included a rather decadent transfer where our hotel concierge accompanied us to the airport, took our luggage and checked us into our flight.  All part of the service!