Hanoi

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We got off the train in Hanoi shattered from a 3-5AM border crossing and set off on foot to find somewhere to stay. Over were the days of hostels and reservations, from now it would have to be guesthouses and hotels, and turning up unnanounced. For even cheaper than the hostels in China we were now lording it up with air conditioning, and cable tv (and privacy).

We stayed in the old quater of Hanoi, which to any visitor essentially is Hannoi. All the streets are tree lined and most of the buildings are left over from colonial times, painted the traditional shade of yellow. The traffic was the most notable difference from China - there are an estimated 2 million motorbikes on the streets of Hanoi, and essentially no traffic lights. To get anywhere you just have to step out suicide style into the constant stream of bikes and hope that they see you coming. Its feels like the parting of the sea of red hondas. Never did I cross and not feel a moment of pure terror. Everybody here appears so friendly - you cant walk 5 m down the street without someone waving at you, asking you where you're from and where you want to go. They couldnt possibly just want my money (could they?), so I waved back at everyone and pretended I was in a 1950s village where everyone was cheerful. Accepting the offer of a ride is like signing a form that says "my life is now yours, heres 10 dong", nevertheless I must say whizzing through all the traffic is mighty fun.

The city is centred on a large lake supposedly created by a turtle (the embalmed remains of one are enshrined on an island in the middle). Sitting by the lake for just a minute would always result in being approached by a Vietnamese student eager to practise their English. A great way to meet the locals, but most often the conversation was one sided as they couldnt understand anything we said. Most conversations involed the words "you from England! - David Beckham!", and not a lot more. I did however meet a girl with a head like a mushroom who told me all about Viet Nam in very good English, and even showed me around town. I couldnt get lost in Hanoi since I could always follow the trail of sweat I left on the pavement back home. There was some kind of heat wave or something.

My luck was out - the one day I went to see Ho Chi Minh (uncle Ho) he was closed (the rest of eternal sleep clearly isnt enough), but this was made up for by the hundreds of posters on every lampost and wall depicting him doing something heroic like reading to children and beating the Americans. Hammers and sickles were everywhere, complete with cartoons of smiling workers, happy factories and fast jet bombers.

The best legacy of French rule was that of the Bakery - they have bagguettes in Viet Nam! After a month of no bread this was warmly welcomed. Unfortunately the rest of the food just didn't compare to China (it was still good, but just lacked that certain something, chili perhaps). Regardless we still ate well, and the food had names straight outta tha hood like "pho bo" (beef noodle soup). We warmed up the evenings by drinking at the old man corner cafes, where the tables spill out well into the streets and are forever bursting with activity. Draught beer cost something like 15 pence a glass and they served food like frogs legs (which were much bigger and better than the ones in Beijing). We continued in this style for the rest of our stay in Viet Nam.

They must have some kind of curfew on regarding the pubs - one night we were out the bar suddenly turned off all the lights and music, lowered all the blinds and told everyone to keep quiet. Flashing red and blue lights rolled past outside. Once gone everthing turned back to normal - it felt like a 1930s American speakeasy. Inside the bar one night we played pool with a bald angry Australian who was far from impressed by our ability to send the cue ball flying off the table. Repeatedly. Had we not been playing doubles with a young Canadian guy I think he might have eaten us.

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