we're not in Thailand anymore, Toto

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Hanoi doesn't feel all that different. Until I try talking to someone.

For some reason it never occured to either Jess (my traveling partner in giggles and crime who, for the record, will only be refered to as maw from this point on) or I that it might be wise to learn a few words in Vietnamese ... or get the currency conversions straight in our heads ... or read up on the scams ... or do any of the many things one does prior to traveling, any of the multitude of things either of us did before the one-way-Thailand bit happened.

Oops.

There is one looming difference that I've managed to surmise in the fifteen minute ride from the airport to the old quarter (apart from the fact that, despite what one might think, the Vietnamese don't speak Thai).

My already overwhelming infatuation with the french is only being bloated by their influence here in the north. The architecture is quaint and intriguing ... the combination of old Europe, the exhaust and general wear-and-tear of Asia bodes well for breaking in the new digi (which I'm in love with and want to marry). There's a funny paradox, though, as the buildings have that curiously squashed / tall, almost lanky build you'd expect in European residential alleys, but they're not side-by-side sardine style at all. They're built to save space so it would seem, but there is plenty of it. It's hard to describe, I suppose, but I'll have some pictures up in a few days so you can see for yourself.

Oh and horns. And how! In Thailand people honk a lot, sure. But there's a politeness, something like waving to strangers and howdy-doodys in small town America, something like hi, here I am, okay? There's a question mark at the end ... or a smile, as most things in Thailand are punctuated by. In Hanoi, however, there's more like a strong period. A furrowing of the brow; a pointedly emphasized, dark, almost hole-through-the-paper sort of period. And they don't come at the end of a sentence, but every word -- rather, every car, motorbike, pedestrian, or cow that happens to come across the path of every other car or motorbike (if the cows could honk, perhaps they might).

Well our room is ready and I'm hungry for some phu (pronounced poo) and some serious wandering needs to happen and so ... 'til another coffee break, friends.

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