First impressions of Vietnam.

Friday

Good god. First impressions of Vietnam: madness. The journey from the airport to my hotel (if one can call it that – US$20 a night) was like being a passenger in a dodgem car. Motorcycles are everywhere. And I mean everywhere. There seems to be no sense of self preservation among the riders. 

The hotel itself is a quaint affair. The foyer looks like a 1950s movie. A ballustraded staircase is the only way up or down to or from the rooms. The furniture in mine is a kind of dark stained cross between Chinese Art Deco and 2 dollar tea house.

The deeper I get into the dark green heart of Asia, the stranger it gets. At least there’s AXN on the TV. And oh, the TV, very small, I think my laptop screen is bigger.

As of now, there is no Internet (the horror, the horror) – a cable, but no connection – but at least I have found one electrical outlet in the bathroom that accepts my universal adapter. And thank god, the electricity seems to be at, or near, 220 V, 50~, or my Dell would be toast by now.

Let me tell you about the money. I have no idea how people actually cope. 1 US equals 16 100 Dong. When I stuck my card in the hole in the wall and saw numbers ranging from 50 000 to 2 000 000, I got a surprise, to say the least.

Saturday

Ok I’ve figured out this driving thing. It’s quite simple; there are no traffic lights. Well, actually, there may be 3 intersections in old Hanoi with lights. The rest is just a free-for-all. Think ants, all scurrying hither and thither – over around on top to the side this way that way bumping changing directions. Now imagine that the ants all have motorcycles, tri-shaws, cars and busses. And they’re big. And they can hurt you. 

Speaking of which, I did see an accident involving 2 motorcycles. Unbelievable. I hadn’t even been here a day. God’s own country man. Gotta love this place.  

Still no Internet. Even after pissing around with my computer (along with the hotel’s IT specialist). We’ve installed and uninstalled every driver, protocol and IP monitor the computer will allow us. And still nothing. My boys back at work are going to have their work cut out for them when it comes to reconnecting me to the company network.

Today was rather fruitful as far as activity was concerned. Awoke to the Hanoi national anthem (car horn, for the uninitiated) at about 9am. After a quick bath and 2 fried eggs on doorstep toast (the breakfast of champions), I found myself in a tri-shaw, headed out into the … fuck, who am I kidding, it’s a supermarket out there.

3 minutes later I was soaked. Did I mention that the humidity here is about 99 percent? No, really. It really is. 

I had the opportunity to visit a museum. I was very impressed. After having said my hellos to a 10 foot, smiling Mr. Ho (Ho Chi Min – Singapore has Raffles, this place has Ho; oh and I even saw a statue of Lenin), I was in turn greeted by an amazing spectacle involving a 30s French art retrospective, some groovy installation art and the usal assortment of fibreglass tanks, actual correspondence between leaders of they VC, a pair of glasses (evidently used to peruse aforementioned), rubber AK47s, etc. 

At about 12:30, my friendly neighbourhood tri-shaw operator pulled into a beer house and refused to go any further until he’d been watered. What could I say? It was hot. He did 3 glasses before I had even drunk the foam off mine. The fellow clearly had a thirst. Then on the pavement, a group of fellows produced a small stash of dope, sniffed it appreciatively, and proceeded to light up in an enormous bamboo bong. Luckily they didn’t offer it around, or I may not be writing this now.

The locals were restless, and so was I. So I headed back to the hotel for a nap. Well deserved, I might say, after a morning spent reclining in the luxuriously appointed surrounds of a bicycle with three wheels.

In the afternoon I concerned myself with the important business of getting lost in the old quarter. 

Having successfully dodged Mr. Tri-shaw, I was attacked by loaves of bread. Everywhere I turned I saw crusty, baguette style frenchy loves being pedalled, delivered and otherwise making their way around town. I thought nothing of it – at least consciously.

But it wasn’t long before I had the most powerful hankering for crusty bread, lovingly smothered with pate. Ha! I was dreaming, of course. But wait. Wasn’t this Hanoi? And weren’t the French once here in their droves?

It was. And they were. And I did find a small place in which I was able to procure, for a very small fee, some rather rough, but delicious, pork rillettes and the very same, and by now ubiquitous crusty loaves.

Later I ensconced myself at a beer establishment to take photographs. I think I may have 2 worth publishing. A fine day, all told.

Tomorrow I leave by Jeep (I’m hoping some “American War” style machine with ancient tyres and a dodgy green paint job) towards the interior. Fuck knows where. Should be amusing. Perhaps I’ll see some real Montagnards. I’m looking for a genuine scarf. For protection I’ve purchased a Vietnamese flag (red with yellow star) and same with hammer and sickle. We are, after all, in their Territory.

Sunday

The vehicle was military green. Tick. It was a 4×4. Tick. It was a Toyota Landcruiser from the old skool. Tick. The driver smoked War Horse Brand. Two ticks and a gold star. That’s where the ticks end.

My quest for inner peace took me through the industrial outskirts of Hanoi. Where I might add, the road manners are no better than the old quarter. A journey of 150kms took all of 4 hours. Anyway, what awaited me on the other end was a veru pleasant surprise. Seems I had signed myself up for a homestay. 

It was great. To begin with, it was the first good meal I had had while in Vietnam. A note on food: Vietnam is the world’s second largest net exporter of rice. And yet, to date, I had not seen a grain. Noodle soup, rolled up pork mince, processed meat of some description. But no rice. WTF? 

Anyway, here there was rice in abundance. As well as fried bugs. A delicacy, I’m told. Not one to shy away from such things, I tried one. It tasted, not surprisingly, like grass. That was it for me, but I was amused by my hosts’ sorting through the plate and picking out some particularly juicy ones to crunch on. I enquired, as you do, which ones were the best, and they assured my that the big ones were. Well, you can’t fault the logic.

The next thing that stood out for me was the quiet. Like game farm in the Northeren Transvaal quiet. Luvly. In fact, the frogs were so loud they sounded like small dogs barking. 

Monday

Woke up to the faint smell of cow dung and burning grass. Fabulous. It’s really at times like these that I get a little homesick for SA. Nevertheless, I decided I liked the countryside so juch that I would simply push on to Laos. Unfortunately this was not to be. My guide could not find out whether I could get a visa as the border; and at 180USD extra for the privilege of going the extra 160kms, I thought better of it. Next time.

Back in the hotel in Hanoi, I tried to book a ticket back to wherever. A shambles. I still couldn’t connect to the Internet with my own computer and the PCs in the foyer were all set to 2002. The airline booking engines were not happy. And they put a man on the moon with a slide-rule. I ask you.

Some negotiation and a hefty commission later, I had an airticket back to Bangkok.

Tuesday

And so here I am. Back in Thailand. My original return ticket to KL has been successfully changed to tomorrow afternoon. (Always buy the most expensive ticket you can – that way you can change it, and not have to put up with various arbitrary airline rules.)

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