Bia Hoi and Madame Hu

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Living Like a Local, Almost

After Dong Ha, we flew to Hanoi. We were offered a great opportunity to stay with a new friend, Rad, an expat who works for GCSF and helped us to arrange the volunteering experience at Le Quy Don. When the cab arrived at Rad’s place, I realized exactly how much the week in Dong Ha had exhausted me. Rad offered us two bedrooms and bathrooms above GCSF’s office. The bathroom even had a full shower, which was a welcome sight. Most of the bathrooms at the cheap guest houses we have stayed at have a shower nozzle on the wall, but no tub or shower so the floor becomes soaking wet. It has become a pet peeve of mine. I was so excited about the shower. The GCSF office was next door to the house Rad lives in with his wife and son. After a quick shower we spent about two hours debriefing Rad on our experiences at the school, to help other volunteers in the future. Once his family returned from their afternoon swim, we had a fabulous dinner across the street from their home. We had a spread of Vietnamese food, a higher caliber of food than what we have been used to on our travels. We had fried tofu in a tangy tomato sauce and another spicy tofu dish. I even forced Eric to try the tofu. Rad’s son, Hung, was excited for his grilled pigeon, and would not touch another dish on the table until he had his pigeon. We later found out that Hung’s favorite food is “anything with wings,” which is why he was practically drooling when we later walked by his favorite chicken restaurant. We had a butter fried corn dish, some fish, and pork, and once again we were in a food coma. Because we sat on the floor surrounding two low tables for our meal, we literally had to roll ourselves off the floor to get up after our feast.

Rad and his family were heading to China for holiday in the morning, so Rad did a quick little tour of the area, including showing us Hoan Kiem Lake and some of the main roads, pointing out good restaurants to try along the way. We also stopped for ice cream. Rad’s son is Vietnamese, speaks pretty good English, and is attending an international school. I think he seems more half Vietnamese and half American, particularly with the amount of time he spends in North Carolina. When we arrived at the ice cream place it seemed more like a small ice cream food court with several ice cream counters, and it was packed. A Saturday night hangout for teenagers, the ice cream shop had motos and bicycles and flirting young adults all over the block, pouring into the street. In Rad’s wife’s opinion the best ice cream is at the shop straight ahead at the end of the alley. The shop to the right was good, but not as good as the one at the end. But, the best shop was packed with long lines, everyone pushing their way to the front. Rad suggested to Hung, who is small and only twelve years old, “why don’t you cheat and push your way to the front,” a practice that is typical for Vietnamese and many other Asians who do not generally care about a line (thanks Cathy for teaching me that one in Chinatown in Chicago). Hung quickly replied he would not cheat his way to the front of the line, saying “that part of me is not Vietnamese.” It was classic. I was really starting to take to this kid. Unfortunately, because Rad and the family were shipping off, we were left alone for the rest of the week to pretend like we were expats exploring a non-touristy neighborhood in a foreign city, and checking out the local hot spots Rad recommended.

During our Hanoi days we spent some time doing the touristy stuff, walking around the Old Quarter and having coffee overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake. We found more examples of the wonderful things the French left behind - not only coffee, but bakeries. We enjoyed many tasty treats including some of the softest, sweetest raisin bread of my life. In the evenings, we looked for cheap beer and a locals’ scene - our favorite thing to do - and we found it right at the end of Rad’s street. We found a large beer garden called Thoung Hai. Our first night there we started with two “bia hoi,” or draft beers, and an all Vietnamese menu. We know a few words, like pork, beef, chicken, and vegetables, but I was thrilled when they found an old English language menu - who knows where they found it because it was not in pristine condition. We also noticed we were the only Westerners there, just the way we like it. We were not terribly hungry, but ordered some roasted goat and morning glory with garlic. The flavoring of the goat was good, but it was extremely chewy, not like the tender goat vindaloo we have had in Chicago. We made a new friend who stopped by our table to say hello each time he went to the toilet. Unfortunately, he only really spoke a word or two of English, so he would come by, say hello, shake Eric’s hand, and move on, only to repeat it about ten minutes later. Our servers were also very nice and very friendly, allowing us to butcher their language while we practiced our Vietnamese. It was late when we arrived, though, and the kegs ran out after we only had one round. The draft beer in Hanoi is “fresh beer,” which is brewed without preservatives, so it is meant to be drunk quickly. The beer company will only delivery a certain number of kegs each day and when those are done, people either drink bottled beer or go home. We ordered a bottled beer, which was more expensive of course. The draft beer only costs about .30, but the bottled beer costs almost a $1! We decided to call it a night after the next round. We had a good time though.

We returned the next night and our server ladies remembered us. We received a freshly printed English menu, which was thoughtful, and let the bia hoi flow. Generally, there is no need to order more beer. A male server will walk around with a tray and stop at your table. He will place replacement beers on your table unless you tell him no thanks. No wonder the Vietnamese have a problem with alcoholism. This was also exemplified by the full bottles of Smirnoff vodka they would bring to your table in a bucket of ice, treated like champagne. The bottle costs the equivalent of about $11, and they would drink only shots, no mixers. They also keep your tab at your table so that when the server drops off a beer, he marks it in front of you to keep track as you go. Being a little scared off by the roasted goat, we ordered our new favorite food to go with beer - cucumbers. Mr. Hai introduced us to this treat in Dong Ha, and it is as good as peanuts as a bar food. We were happy to chomp on sliced cucumbers served with a small plate of salt, pepper, chili, and lime. A nice sweet and spicy treat to accompany the beer. Then, we ordered a plate of French fries, but only because many other tables were eating them. They came with some soy sauce spiced up with some sliced chilies. The beers kept flowing, but as the crowds started to disperse, we headed the half block back to Rad’s and told our new friends we would see them the next night.

Our last night was a lot of fun. When we walked into the beer garden, the place was packed. But, we were regulars now, so one of our servers, Mai, saw us and started waving us to her section. It was a compliment. This night, we felt more like celebrities as small children would walk over to say hello as well as new servers we had not met before. We ordered a beef hot pot, which we realized was way too much food for two people. The hot pot was a boiling hot broth with tomatoes, onions, and vegetables, and then we would cook our own beef and noodles in the pot. Way way too much food. But, the beers kept flowing and as we slowed down we counted our beers. We ended on 16 beers, and remembering Mr. Hai’s warning about stopping on an even number, we had one more beer and made our way home. We also decided to call it a night when a group of three Westerners came in. Yikes, no longer the celebrities. We became used to being special, just like Mr. Hanh warned us in Dong Ha. We saw many Westerners in Hanoi, particularly in the Old Quarter. The city is littered with expats. But, we found our little slice of local heaven, even with the three Westerners that showed up. We said goodbye to Mai and our other servers and told them we would be returning in a few weeks. . . Maybe we can find some friends to enjoy the hot pot with on our next trip to Hanoi.

The Old Quarter and Madame Hu

Each time we left Rad’s neighborhood, we headed north towards Hoan Kiem Lake, which is the centerpiece of Hanoi, complete with a red bridge and a pagoda, and heaped with legend. Legend has it that an Emperor used a divine sword to drive the Chinese from Vietnam in the mid-15th century. The next day he saw a giant golden tortoise in the lake that grabbed the sword and disappeared. The tortoise apparently gave the sword back to the heavens. Since then, if you see a tortoise in the lake it is incredible luck. Of course, how often does that happen? Rad’s son tried to tell me he saw the tortoise once, but he was not wearing his glasses and people around him saw it, and he knew it was there, but did not exactly see it. Cute kid. Eric and I had coffee a couple of times at a café overlooking the lake, and often saw some bubbles and ripples, but no tortoise. We also saw some guys fishing in the lake on afternoon, and when they caught something, one guy ripped off his clothes down to his shorts and dove in after the fish. After they wrestled the fish out of the water, the group disbanded, running in every different direction, with one holding a pretty decent sized fish for an urban lake. We assumed it is not legal to fish in the lake.

Just north of the lake is the boundary of the Old Quarter, a large neighborhood of narrow streets and alleys selling everything one could want or need. Originally, streets specialized in particular items so that the street was named after the good sold, i.e. Cha Ca street is known for roasted fish, Thouc Bac for herbal medicines, and Hang Non for hats. Although most of the street names have lost their relevance, including wooden bowls, copper, or pipes, so that the names do not tell you what is sold on the street, there is still a specialization. The first main road into the Old Quarter is known for shoes. We saw streets for toys, bathing suits, medicine cabinets and mirrors, spices, silks, etc. Each storefront spilled out into the sidewalk making the narrow roads even more congested with pedestrians, cyclos, and motos. On the western edge of the Old Quarter we found several bia hoi stalls, with tiny plastic chairs all facing one intersection. It could have been “Beer Street.” We enjoyed a few tasty beverages one afternoon to avoid the heat of the day. But, our favorite place to have a drink in the middle of the day was close to “Bathing Suit Street.”

We needed to kill an hour or two before dinner at Cha Ca La Vong - on roasted fish street. We stopped at a street side stand with several kinds of soda and tea, and some beer bottles and cigarettes. There were some little tiny tiny plastic stools, even smaller than those in HCMC. We ordered a bottle of Beer Hanoi with ice (“da”). The little old lady who sold us the beer was entirely pleasant even if she did not speak English. When we took out our camera to take some pictures of the street, she asked us to take a picture of her, so we obliged. During our hour or so there she continuously asked us to take pictures of her, and her with us. She had character all right. We found out later her name was Hu, but we referred to her as Madame Hu. She was 74 years old, but looked older than that. She was a persistent chain smoker, and when she smiled you could tell she also chews beetle nut, which makes the teeth turn dark. When we visited her the second time, she remembered us, which is always welcome. I wished she spoke English because I can only imagine the stories she could have told us. Wonderful Madame Hu.

After Madame Hu, we went to Cha Ca La Vong, a restaurant specializing in one dish. It was a splurge for us at around $7 per person, but we wanted to try it. A hot open flame grill was placed in front of us with a hot steaming pan of cooked fish, garlic, and some vegetables. We had more vegetables, chilies, and some fish sauce to add to the pan. Then, we served the fish over sticky rice noodles. It was very tasty. We ordered a beer with da and the server placed the bucket of ice and thongs at my feet. When the French woman next to me saw us, she asked for ice, and we told her the Vietnamese word for ice. That was a big mistake because she interrupted our meal every five minutes barking at us “da, da!” Oh well, I obliged as the youngest woman, who tends to be the hostess at the table. I know my place is this world.

Halong Bay

We escaped the big city life for two days taking a tour east of Hanoi to Halong Bay. We walked from Rad’s about 30 minutes into the Old Quarter, arriving at the travel office around 7:30 am. At this time the city was fully awake and the street stalls were opening for the day. Also, traditional Vietnamese music was played from loudspeakers in the area. We have no idea the point of the music, but assumed it was some Communist hymn or folk song. What was interesting is that no one stopped. Everyone continued what they were doing. I think if people had stopped, like when the National Anthem is played at a baseball game in the US, I would have felt uncomfortable to say the least.

After more than three hours on a shuttle bus towards Halong City, we arrived at a hotel on the bay to wait for our junk - a wooden boat with large orange sails that would be our home for the night. We met another couple on the bus out to Halong City, Michael and Rebecca, who were from Massachusetts and were in Vietnam during their extended five week honeymoon. We were chatting with Rebecca in the dining room of the hotel restaurant when Eric just walked away from the discussion with no explanation. I saw him on the other side of the room a minute later with a group of restaurant employees and cooks who were having an early lunch. Eric was munching on something the women gave him, and then the women called me over to eat fish. I excused myself from my conversation with Rebecca saying “I think I need to go eat fish now.” The women shared their whole fried fish with us, and when I tried to take a small bit, they handed me a full, plump fish about six inches long. Eric and I said there chomping on the tastiest fried fish, just handed over by strangers, women ready to share their lunch with us. We were touched, but our guide for the boat tour started calling us and we said a hasty farewell and thank you to the ladies and went out to board our boat.

We chose the Lagoon Explorer mostly because it was a small boat, with only four rooms and holding seven passengers for our overnight journey. In addition to Michael and Rebecca, we shared the boat with an Aussie named Judy and a young Parisian couple, Cecilia and Martin. Luckily we had a friendly group because we had one table to share for our meals. And, there were exactly eight lounge chairs on the top of the boat - no real privacy here. Even less privacy for us because the sliding door to our room did not exactly close all the way. But, that was our only complaint. The room was nicely decorated, with windows that we left open while sleeping, and a normal sized bath with shower. Not too shabby. We were also pleased with the meals. We ate lunch, dinner, breakfast, and another lunch while on board. Aside from breakfast, each of the other meals contained multiple courses of rice, fish, and seafood including giant sweet prawns, crabs, and clams. I have to admit I took advantage of the spread, particularly with our generally small meals based on our budget!

But, what we were really in Halong Bay to see was the UNESCO World Heritage site, consisting of roughly 3000 rock islands. The islands are towering karst rock formations, white and grey stone jutting from the dark green bay that leads into the Gulf of Tonkin. It was not sunny while we were in Halong Bay. The resulting grey sky and light mist made the islands look even more mysterious. It was a relaxing way to spend about twenty four hours on the water, just slowly cruising through the bay. We stopped at a floating village, taking a sampan boat steered by a tiny Vietnamese woman. The village consisted of about fifty families whose homes float on the water. They make their money fishing and trading with the people on the mainland. They have families, send their children to the school in the village, and even have cats and dogs living on the boats. We also visited a pearl fishing farm run by the Japanese in which they take round shells, insert them into oysters, and allow them to create real but not natural pearls. This was all very interesting, but all too touristy and forced. This was our first “tour” we have done in over two months of independent travel. The trip by boat took a little longer than necessary. Eric felt it was fun and novel for the first five minutes, but after that he felt silly for the next 45 minutes. It was similar to taking the cyclo ride in Hue with the novelty wearing off pretty quick. It reinforced in our mind that we are truly turning into travelers and not mere tourists. That is a good sign.

After a bit more of a cruise we stopped to kayak for a bit. Eric and I have not kayaked since our honeymoon almost eight years ago. That was a disaster on rough seas and Eric had told me to stop rowing as he tried to steer the kayak back to shore against the rough current. Now, Eric and I pride ourselves on being able to communicate in our marriage, but this skill does not cross over into kayaking. He was disappointed we had a two person kayak, thinking it would be easier to fly solo. We just could not get our oars in sync. I explained to Eric that he needs to row in line with my timing because I could not see behind me. He complained he could not row that slowly. And, when we needed to turn he would do so unilaterally, rather than telling me what he wanted me to do. We made it through the kayak tour, and I really enjoyed it, but Eric would prefer not kayaking with me again. Oh well, we don’t have to do everything together. After we returned to the boat, we jumped off the back to do a bit of swimming. The water was cold, but nothing in comparison to New Zealand or Tasmania, Australia. It had also been awhile since I have been swimming on the back of a boat with no chance to rest. I am getting soft, always needing my floating noodle, like in the Great Barrier Reef. But, it was a nice cool off in a decently strong current, and when we were back on board I was spent. After dinner I read for a bit in bed and slept like a baby. We left our cabin windows open to hear the water splash against the side of the boat. The next morning we returned to the island where we kayaked to view some limestone karst caves. After our cave tour, we had lunch and returned to land and back to Hanoi. It was a good two day trip, but I think it will be awhile before we book another tour.

On the road between Hanoi and Halong City, the bus stopped at a rest stop with toilets, restaurant, and shopping. They sold silks and clothing and had a line of seamstresses on display who were sewing various items. They also had large marble statues for sale, the kind you put in your garden. They had lions to place at the entrance to your home, and large bulky marble chairs and tables. You can buy a giant reclining Buddha, a giant Poseidon, a giant fountain with cherubs peeing into the water. But, the one thing in common was their size! They were all giant. They had a board with pictures of people’s recent purchases. Because most of the pieces reminded me of the garbage I saw on people’s lawns in North Jersey, I was not surprised to see a picture of a couple from Long Island who purchased two large lions for their home. We had good fun joking with Michael and Rebecca about silly Americans and what they will buy on vacation.

Paying Respects to Bac Ho

I have received a lot of comments from people in the past about how we seem to be moving so fast on the M.P., and not taking time to slow down, relax, etc. Well, you should know that we often have days where we do nothing, just walk around, eat, or stay in our room to read and watch a movie. Those days are just not that interesting, and generally don’t make it into the blog. After our time in Dong Ha, and as we celebrated our three month “travelversary,” we were exhausted. We were happy to have a clean and quiet place to stay in Hanoi. We had not planned on booking our Halong Bay trip until later during our stay in Hanoi, but got a deal by booking it last minute the day after our arrival in the city. So, when we returned to Hanoi we had still several days in town with only one touristy thing to do on our list. Our first morning after Halong I slept in until after 9 (after my usual 7am wake up; I still wake up every day around 7 and then need to force myself to try to sleep in), and it was raining. We had wanted to accomplish our only tourist task that morning, but because I slept late and it was raining, we agreed to put it off until the following day. We agreed to be like locals - go to the ATM, and run errands.

Eric and I spent the morning unsuccessfully trying to buy a rail pass for our upcoming trip to Japan. The pass is not sold in Japan. One of the only places we could buy it in Hanoi wanted cash, close to $1000 cash, to someone in a tiny office in a not well marked “tourist” building. And, in exchange for the $1000 we would not even receive the rail pass, but would receive an exchange order to bring to the rail station in Japan to exchange for the pass. I have been learning to trust people more - you have to when you don’t speak the language, but $1000 cash was just too much. So, we walked to the one other place listed on the website, the ANA airline ticketing office, which was several kilometers away, down a street torn apart by construction, and in the drizzle and wet and muddy roads. And, once we got to the other office, they were closed for lunch. We killed an hour drinking a beer across the street before finding out we could not buy the pass from them unless we were on an ANA flight. We brought the United ticketing representative into the conversation because she worked on the same floor and United and ANA are part of the Star Alliance. We are flying United, ANA’s partner, to Japan. We tried to explain that ANA and United were same same but different, but they would not sell us the ticket. She called several travel companies for us, and sent us back to the same one we visited in the morning. The operator at the tour company told the ANA representative that we could pay with a credit card with a service fee, so we hopped in a cab to head back to the same company. Of course, the guy said no credit card just cash, and he did not know why the operator said we could use a credit card, making the transaction seem even more sketchy. So, after about 3-4 hours we returned home without the stupid travel pass. So, these are the days that we have that I don’t generally include in the blog. I took a nap when we returned and watched American Idol before we went out to our beer garden at night.

The following day we became tourists again - taking a cab to Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum. It was a Thursday, and was a National Holiday, celebrating April 30, 1975, the day that Saigon was “liberated.” We at first were afraid it would be closed, but instead found out it just meant that people from all over Vietnam who had the day off would be traveling to Hanoi to pay their respects. We were told there were two lines, a Vietnamese line and a foreigners line so that our line should be shorter. The cab driver dropped us off at the entrance to the line and we only saw one, so we lined up. Now, my comment before about Asians and lines did not apply to the line for the Mausoleum. Rules are very strict. No cameras, no shorts or tank tops, no hats, and no hands in pockets. We were not sure about this last one. The line stretched around the block, but moved quickly and orderly with very little line cutting. Once we made it to the front of the line, which only took a surprising twenty minutes, we saw the foreigners’ entrance, which was really a white peoples’ entrance because the line we waited in included all Asians, not just Vietnamese, including Chinese and Koreans. Well, we were fine in our line. The line approached the Mausoleum from the south end, so we had a preview of the tall, grey imposing building. Mind you, Ho Chi Minh, or Uncle Ho, or Bac Ho, wanted a simple cremation, so all of this hoopla was against his wishes. As we rounded the corner to face the front of the building, a special contingent of visitors was escorted to the front of the line by two white uniformed soldiers bearing a large wreath as a memorial. This entire experience was becoming surreal.

Bac Ho is on display five days a week, nine months of the year. During three months of the year his body is shipped to Russia for “maintenance.” It is said that he has had so much maintenance over the years that some suggest his work is conducted by Madame Tussaud’s. It has also been suggested by doctors that there is no way, no matter how much work has been done, that he could look the way he does after being dead since the 1960s. Nevertheless, we wound our way towards the door, unsure of what to expect. We slowly climbed the steps to enter the building, walking a respectful red carpet, well, a red plastic carpet, along the way. We climbed a flight of steps and made a left once inside. Eric was instructed to create two lines as we turned the corner, putting the taller people in the rear to look over the heads of the front line. I remembered not to put my hands in my pockets and placed them together behind my back, a show of respect in the US I think. As we entered to room with Bac Ho’s body, a soldier touched my right arm and instructed me to place my arms at my side. I looked in front of me and saw numerous Vietnamese walking with the arms crossed over their chest. Now, I don’t know if I was singled out because I am a westerner, or because arms crossed over the chest is respectful in the East, whereas I take it as disrespectful, or at least rude, in the west. Regardless, I was admonished. The line continued around the body on three sides, starting on his right and moving around his feet. He was behind glass, and elevated somewhat. The lighting made him appear like he was glowing. It was increasingly more eerie, but over as soon as it started. We only had less than a minute in the room as the line continued to move forward and it was over. After, we walked the complex grounds, and saw the presidential palace, which is a colonial building now used for public receptions. The complex also housed an “upmarket interpretation” of a stilt house where Ho once lived and another house simpler than the palace. Both of the houses were left “as he left them” with desks, beds, and a dining room table with his simple china and tea pot. Over his desk were photos of Marx and Lenin. It was quite unique. It was heading towards closing time - around 11am so we started to walk back towards the house, realizing we were hungry. We also realized we were ready for a little bit of Western comfort.

We have not tired of Asian food yet. Generally, when we are looking for something a little different, instead of latching onto the pizza and hamburger tourist traps in most of the towns we visit, we search out Indian. That has become our comfort food from home. But, after teaching the kids in Dong Ha about pizza and spaghetti, we had some cravings bad. Rad told us before he left about a great restaurant for the best pizza in Hanoi. We shook him off though saying, no western food. After paying our respects to Bac Ho, however, we were starved and pretty close to the Italian place that Rad suggested, Luna d’Automno, which I believe is near the Italian embassy. We arrived around 11am, a little early for lunch, and ordered a pizza margarita and a spaghetti carbonara. The pasta came first, washed down with a bottle of Pellegrino. We had to wait for the pizza because the pizza guy did not even arrive at the restaurant until 11:30. So, we had no problem milking our water, reading, and watching the expat action in the place. The pasta was good, and the pizza was great. If we were in this place in Italy I probably would not have returned, but considering we were in Hanoi, it was great. And, because we were in a little patio area, set back from the street, sheltered by a large stone wall, we almost forgot where we were, feeling like we were in Italy, surrounded by expats speaking Italian. As one of the most expensive meals we have eaten, $17, the price did not feel Vietnamese, but was certainly less than what we would have paid in Italy. And, when we emerged after a two hour meal, and stepped into the heat and the traffic and the noise, we knew exactly where we were.

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Photos

Rad and His Family
After our fancy feast

French Pastries
We had a simple soft baguette with melted butter and sugar.

Pho
Pho on the side of the street

The Scene at Our Beer Garden
A little busy, but you can see the beer delivery man coming our way.

Mai and Me
At our little beer garden

Beef
We thought of Sonja and all of our vegetarian friends with this plate of raw beef on our table.

Tom And Our Bill
You can count the 17 beers across the top of the tab

Cha Ca La Vong
Roasted fish and all of the accompaniments.

Street Scene
The view from Madame Hu's place.

Our Sampan Pilot
She had some problems getting the two fat Americans through the entire trip.

Floating Village
A land where dogs and cats live in peace.

The Lagoon Explorer
With the karst formations in the background

Kayaking
Shows the beauty without showing our faces - somewhat annoyed I am sure.

Outside the Caves
In Halong Bay

Me and Bac Ho
Outside of Ho's final resting place.

The Mausoleum
See the patriotism, the flags, and in the far left the lines.

Ho's House on Stilts
And the Vietnamese lined up to see it.

Comments

[Cathy]

Awesome!
Loved your latest blog post - thanks for the shout out!