Hungover in Hanoi Finally, after having endured corrupt taxi drivers, theft, a sinus cold, creepy old men on the trains, pushy locals, an attempted mugging, blatant exploitation, a raging hangover, and more sexual innuendoes then I care to count, I had arrived safe and sound in Hanoi. I had expected that the capital city of this strange and bustling country would be large, impersonal and utterly devoid of charm. The reality was quite different. Hanoi was compact. Cozy even. Full of twists and turns and ragged rundown alleys. It invited you to poke around corners and explore musty shops. The roads seemed to list and lean and tumble drunkenly over each other. The same street might change names five times in as many blocks. Even after a week there I still got hopelessly lost every time
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