Loving Ha Noi - Again

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Welcome Home to Hanoi

We were thrilled to leave Beijing and arrive back in Hanoi. This was our second trip to Vietnam during the M.P. so that should give you an idea of how much we love it. We arrived Saturday evening, and took the Vietnam Air shuttle to the Old Quarter in Hanoi. It is only $2 a person, but the van does not leave the airport until it is full. We were only the second and third people to board the van. That meant we got a good seat, but we waited until every spot was full - two people in front next to the driver, three rows of seats, and two people on stools next to the seats. I sat next to a Vietnamese man with pretty good English language skills, which was a relief after China. Behind him was a Japanese tourist, a young guy who spoke some English but not Vietnamese. The Japanese man booked a trip to Halong Bay through a tour company. The tour company gave him the name of his hotel, but no address. I told the Vietnamese man that this was our second trip to Hanoi, so he asked if I would help the Japanese man to find his hotel when we get to the Old Quarter. I replied that I did not know every hotel in Hanoi, despite the fact that I am a repeat tourist. Eventually, we found a phone number and were able to call for the address. What I was excited about was speaking to someone who knew English and was trying his hardest to help a tourist new to the area. That was a huge change from China.

We were staying at our friend Rad’s house again. The Vietnam Air shuttle dropped us off on the southwest side of Hoan Kiem Lake. When we arrived I knew exactly where I was going to make our way to the house. It felt good to know where I was. When we arrived at Rad’s he greeted us with “Welcome home” and I replied “It is good to be home.” We settled in our room, and were happy for the familiar surroundings and happy faces.

We ran some errands while in Hanoi and spent time returning to our old stomping grounds. We were also happy to see our old hangouts, including Mesa Bakery at the end of the block, and a café at the opposite end where we were quite thrilled to be back to drinking Vietnamese coffee. We were most excited to be back to the restaurant at the end of Rad’s street, Nha Hang Thuong Hai, but we usually refer to it as “the restaurant at the end of the street.” It is an outdoor beer garden which seems to be busy straight from lunch until the fresh draft beer runs out at night. During our last visit, they were able to scrounge up an old and nasty English menu, but when we returned the following night a new menu had been printed for us. When we returned this time it seemed that some other westerners had been by because the menu looked once again like it had seen better days. My server friend from last time was not working, but I recognized another one of the servers, who kept walking behind me to yank my pony tail, giving me a big smile as she scampered off. We ended up sharing our table with several Vietnamese men. Two of them spoke a little English and we started chatting. One of the men had a Duke University key chain, and we understood that his daughter went to school there. After chit chatting for awhile, he handed me his cell phone. I ended up talking with his daughter. It was quite loud in the restaurant and loud on her end, so I could not confirm that she went to Duke or a friend, so I just talked a bit and handed the phone back to her father. He immediately hung up the phone without talking to her. That was strange.

When we returned a few nights later, we were on the opposite side of the street waiting for the traffic to clear. My favorite server from last time was standing at the front waving to me. She lit up from ear to ear. We brought a picture of her and I together last time. We were the celebrities that night. Beer was flowing. Everyone wanted to be in our pictures, so the kids were acting out asking for attention. By the end of the night I knew it was time to get Eric home when he decided to step on a scale the restaurant uses to weigh fish. But, at least we were walking home. One night, at a table nearby a guy was so drunk he fell off his chair, but yet, a few minutes later when it was time to head home, he picked up his moto from the valet and zoomed off. This is only one of the effects of a burgeoning alcoholism problem in Vietnam. All in all, we enjoyed being back at our fun restaurant. We could not wait to return in three weeks when we would be with our friends!

Rad also took us to his favorite pho spot, Shorty’s. During our last trip, Rad gave us directions to the street stall, but we were not sure if we found the right one. This was a field trip - Rad and his wife, their two friends, one of Rad's employees, and Eric and I. Shorty’s is a somewhat illegal food stall and Rad tells stories about when the police show up, be prepared - in about 30 seconds flat your bowl is taken away and all the tables and chairs are moved away. A few minutes after the police leave, the business is back, up, and running. I think this is pretty common in Hanoi. We stopped for bun (pronounced “boone”) one afternoon - grilled pork with noodles and a broth. The place was packed, and the tables spilled out onto the street. When we walked up the street a few days later, there were a lot of changes. There were several police walking up and down the street, and we could walk down the sidewalk without any problems or distractions. Many of the small businesses that spill into the street on a daily basis were cleaned up, including the bun restaurant. I am assuming the police came by during one of their raids. A few hours later things were back to normal.

Our errands in Hanoi also included both of us getting a haircut. Eric’s was fairly uneventful, although he received a straight razor shave. I had a pretty bad hair cut when in Kuala Lumpur in June and my hair has been uneven since then. I was excited to have that rectified. The haircut itself was fine, especially for less than $10. The strange part came with my hair washing. My hair washing took as long as Eric’s entry hair cut and shave. She washed and conditioned my hair several times, plus my face, and even my ears, which felt weird and left me wanting to shake my head from side to side to get the water out. It was also fun when she turned off the fan to get the hair to stay still while she cut it, especially when she started to blow dry my hair in 90 degree weather, with 80% humidity, and no fan. In the end, though, it was a decent haircut; much better than KL.

Our last errand was exciting, an accomplishment of sorts. Eric and I were running out of pages in our passport. Not a bad problem to have, especially when our passports were issued in April 2008 - only 17 months of travel and we only have three blank pages left. We will need a visa for Brazil, and that will be a full page. So, early in the morning we took a taxi to the embassy annex in Vietnam. We filled out a form, skipped to the front of the line, did not have to pay a fee, and picked up our passports later that day. They are now double as thick as before. Exciting! I just hope we can continue to fill those pages.

Communicating in Vietnamese

One of our last errands to run was to purchase some books. We bought a Lonely Planet Japan for our October trip, fresh off the copy machine. I love cheap bootleg Lonely Planet guides. We also bought a Lonely Planet Vietnamese phrase book, with some interesting subjects. There were typical phrasebook sections on transport, accommodations, shopping, and food. Then, there was a social section to translate into Vietnamese how you feel about certain items, including opinions, politics, and social issues. The most interesting was the “romance” section. Eric and I read through it while having a few bia hoi (draft beer) at our favorite restaurant in Hanoi. Some of the translations were pretty harmless, including “where would you like to go tonight” and pick up lines like “would you like a drink?” and “you look like someone I know.” Then the conversation progressed to “She is a babe,” “He is hot,” and “She gets around.” The sweet talk continued to “I like you very much” and “can I kiss you?” Some of the translations were pretty sweet including “I love you,” “you make me so happy” and “you are my everything.” Then, the conversation got pretty graphic. I was bothered by it. In an area of the world that has a reputation for sex tourism, domestic violence, and vulnerable women, I was bothered that a small 250 page phrasebook would include the graphic sexual translations it did. I could not figure out in the book how to purchase train tickets, but I could invite a man to bed and talk dirty in Vietnamese. There were also some specific suggestions on dealing with the police if you have been arrested for drugs and how to express in Vietnamese that you are high. Nice one Lonely Planet. Maybe there are certain things we should not teach westerners how to express in Vietnamese.

Madame “Not” Hu

During our first trip to Hanoi we met a woman selling beer at a tiny street stall in the Old Quarter while waiting for a restaurant to start serving dinner. Even though she spoke not a lick of English, she was full of character. When we took pictures of people on the street, she wanted to pose for us, resulting in one of the best pictures of our trip so far. During our second trip to Hanoi in May we found her again. She remembered us. This time, she wrote on a piece of paper her name and age, Hu and 72. We did the same. At that point, we became old friends.

This time we were praying that Madame Hu, as we affectionately referred to her, was still alive. We found the street again, and walked past the shops slowly looking for her stall on the side of the street. We saw her stall, but a much much younger woman was manning it. We approached with several photos we took of Madame Hu. The woman smiled but spoke no English. So, we sat and ordered two beers to see if she would show up. The woman was pointing down the street, and left for a few minutes, but we were not sure where she went. We assumed that because the woman and the other people at the stall were smiling that Madame Hu was at least still alive. We sat on our tiny stools, and after about ten minutes, we heard a moto approach and there was Madame Hu on the back. She appeared to remember us and we showed her the pictures. She gave us big hugs and we took some new pictures, then we sat staring at each other and smiling. With our Vietnamese exhausted by our request for beer and ice, and her lack of English, we were stumped. We then started to look up and down the block for someone who spoke English to translate. After almost ten people, we found a young Vietnamese woman who has been living in Canada for years. Jackpot! She spent some time speaking with us and translating to Madame Hu.

First, we found out that she has transferred the drink stall to her daughter, the woman who greeted us. Madame Hu was sick, we were not sure with what, but she has been resting at home and taking medicine. We also found out that her name was not Hu and that she was 84 not 72. I do not know where she got Hu and 72 from, but we started to refer to her as Madame “Not” Hu. We told her daughter we would be back and she replied she would send someone to get her mother to say hello. Madame Not Hu then retired back to her house to rest and take medicine. It was good to see her again, but bittersweet. I hope that she is okay. Regardless, I can tell from the character in her face that she has lived a good life.

Day Tripping

Rad had a full house while we were there. Australian friends of his who have been living in HCMC were staying the week with him. On our last full day in Hanoi we joined them on a road trip around the Hanoi area. Rad’s wife Huong, her friend the driver, and the Aussies Julie and Steve piled into an SUV. Our first stop was to pick up one of Rad’s employees, Tu Ha and her adorable little daughter, who is about one and a half. Her daughter was snacking on some sort of corn chip in the car and Tu Ha was trying to talk her into letting me have one. Every time she was convinced to share her treat with me, she insisted on tasting it first and then giving it to me. It was endearing.

Tu Ha took us to the village she grew up in about 15 kilometers outside of Hanoi. Bat Trang is a village known for its pottery. Tu Ha took us to the ceramics market, which was quaint and amazingly inexpensive. I wished I could rent a shipping container to ship back to the US. Some of the product was identical to items sold at Pottery Barn, Crate and Barrel, and Pier One, but at a mere fraction of the cost. And they are guaranteed handmade. Our first stop was her parents’ stall, where she dropped off her little girl with grandma. She showed us her parents’ ceramics, a cool looking dark red and black design, some very simple and modern, and others with intricate dragon designs. I looked through their selection, thinking I would purchase a vase to support the family. I pointed to one and asked Eric what he thought. Before I knew it, Tu Ha’s mother was wrapping it in tissue paper for me to take as a free souvenir. I adamantly protested, but was assured they could make thousands of them. After thanking them profusely, I was scolded by Eric to make sure I did not point to anything else, or to comment that I liked any other item. I agreed. No good deed goes unpunished.

We also purchased an eight piece ceramic tea set, a square tea pot with six small tea cups, and a serving tray. I had Huong with us when we asked for the price, in hopes of getting the local price. Other similar sets at some stalls had price tags on them ranging from 120,000 to 180,000 Vietnamese Dong, about USD $6-$10. Huong told me the price for this set was 80,000 Dong, the equivalent of about $4.50. I was sold, and did not even try to haggle. Once Tu Ha heard what I paid, she said I probably should have paid only 60,000 Dong, and that if we bought anything else, we should have her with us. I was okay with our price though, and happy with our set.
After the market, Tu Ha took us back to her parents’ house for tea and a tour of how they make the ceramics. It was amazing. During our last trip to Vietnam, on our bus ride out to Halong Bay, we stopped at a tourist trap for shopping, where they “made” ceramics, silk clothing, and sold other knick knacks. It all felt very forced and manufactured. Bat Trang was nothing like that. Walking through the village we were able to see inside peoples’ homes, where we saw ceramics in various state of completion. We saw a school where young adults were learning the trade. Tu Ha’s father is the fourth generation in her family to be in the ceramics business. It was remarkable. The front and side of their home was their workshop, filled with hundreds of vases from the small ones, similar to my new souvenir, and some about 4 or 5 feet tall with amazing intricate details.

After leaving Bat Trang, we dropped Tu Ha back in Hanoi, and wound our way through the city to the “back side of Hanoi” as Huong called it, and area that she does not even travel to. After stopping for lunch, we made our way out to a silk village. Our first stop was a strip of silk stores that all seemed pretty shabby. The driver and Huong had never been out there before and were disappointed. Then, they realized we were in the wrong place. Just down the road, was a larger silk market and an area that demonstrated how the women make the silk, from silk worm to finished product. It was a wonderful day trip from Hanoi.
 

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Photos

Vietnamese Coffee
Nothing like the slow drip of the coffee into the glass.

Stogie Time
Eric was happy to enjoy his Cuban cigars, purchased in China

Cigarette Girl
Four beautiful girls came to the restaurant to sell ciggies.

Having Fun
At our favorite Hanoi Restaurant.

At Shorty's
Rad's favorite pho spot.

Shorty's Pho
With my spicy additions

No One is Talking
Everyone is just bent over steaming hot pho and slurping away.

Clean Shave
Eric got a hair cut and a straight razor shave.

Ceramics
Some of Tu Ha's family's product.