CHANGI AIRPORT, SINGAPORE>>>HANOI TRAFFIC
COFFEE AT HAPRO>>>H&K AT ARMY HOTEL
Arrival in Hanoi, Vietnam. A surreal experience. A crumbling airport, a stern communist-style greeting from People's Committee members sporting ill-fitting olive green-uniforms, and, believe it or not, a taxi driver bearing a sign with Kari's name on it.
Outside the airport, we're immediately swept into a never-ending stream of motobikes, cars, trucks and bicycles weaving their way into Hanoi. We see rice paddies, water buffalo, masked young men, women, and entire families all on motobike. Barefoot women in conical hats work in the fields alongside brand new manufacturing plants with acres of motobike garages. Everyone's moving and honking. A smokey, smoggy haze fills the air. Welcome to Vietnam.
A 45-minute taxi ride takes us to the peace and quiet of the Army Hotel in the French Quarter -- a good choice. Strange because it's spotless and quiet amid so much activity. It is indeed operated by the army and it's frequented by expats working on development projects, parents adopting Vietnamese children, and locals who come to enjoy the giant pool. Our brains need a rest before venturing out. for more. Can you say culture shock? We nap.
We wake up in time for dinner and take a taxi directly to Highway 4. This place is raved about in all the travel guides. We thought it would be an easy first stop for dinner. There are no tourists. It's busy with locals partying on a Hanoi Saturday night. Everyone's buying bottles of Highway 4's infamous rice wine and smoking incessantly. Shoes are off, meals are eaten cross-legged at low tables. Very comfy. A honey-mooning American couple joins us and we feast on catfish spring rolls, beef, green papaya salad, crispy crickets and more. All is washed down with Mountain Apple rice wine made in house. People start pouring drinks. Everyone's laughing and having a great time. Kari's brain is fuzzy from lack of sleep (we really did eat too much last night, and slept horribly). Oh and there's that bit of culture shock too.
After dinner we venture out to explore a few blocks around the restaurant. We weave our way down tiny, winding streets filled with motobikes, people, and street-side cooks fanning the flames of their charcoal "stoves" and grilling up late-night bun cha. We catch brief glimpses into street corner offices of the People's Committee, where a grim-faced officer sits at a desk under a stark, fluorescent bulb. Then we find a night market swarming with vendors selling everything from postcards to panties and cheap Chinese toys.
There will be time to explore further tomorrow. It's late so we taxi back to the hotel for a good night's rest.
