Our first entry... HANOI.
The plane ride from Hong Kong to Hanoi was somewhat disturbing as I was being noticed by a fair amount of perverted men. Shuyi and I were seated a few rows away from Ian and his mom. Trust me, I was wearing a normal denim skirt and a regular T-Shirt and yet, all eyes were on my big, pale thighs. What's wrong with my thighs? Was it because of its hugeness? Why not Shuyi but mine? Why why why? One even stood up from behind and literally stared down like a hungry vulture, ready to attack its prey. I had no choice but to deviate away from these disgusting people, dragging Shuyi along with me to join the rest of our party a few seats ahead. Note to self : The denim skirt is a fail and never to be worn throughout the trip.
We landed on time that evening. Being a proud Malaysian for once, there was no need for a visa and I had no problem going through the customs. But my fellow US friends had a long way to go. As I stood at one corner, guarding our belongings, I couldn't help but to notice Ian's mom sliding a 10 US dollar bill together with her application. She then spoke to the officer in Vietnamese and within minutes, their lines were cut short. All three were able to skip the queue. On a side note, a Eurasian lady was held for not obtaining a visa before entering Vietnam. Her charge for a release? 250 US Dollars. She agreed anyway and was told to sit at one corner while they process her application.... behind closed doors, I assume. I was amazed at such easy bribery. The country has long valued its openness to tourism, tolerance and the quality of services available. But the amount of corruption and infectious greed in this government is still embedded in them. I've been warned about this, and I cannot believe this is actually happening right in front of my eyes.... in a casual and open manner too!
Our arrival at the hotel was greeted with a splash of dirty water on our taxi, a grandeur entry presented by the lady living upstairs. The hotel was located right across from a night club with flashing neon lights and women in skimpy dresses walking in and out from the club. As we walked into the hotel lobby, we suddenly realized that the name of the hotel was completely different from what we had in mind. After much argument, the receptionist insisted that we take a look at the rooms before deciding. But of course, transitioning from a newly upscale and contemporary hotel in Hong Kong to a low budget hostel in Vietnam, the comfort, cleanliness and service was incomparable and non-passable in our eyes. I was reluctant to say yes but knowing that similar conditions would occur again, we came to face reality and agreed to stay for one night as a trial.
By 10pm, the noise outside our hotel did not subside but instead, increased, with motorbikes, being the king of the street, honking their ways around the Quarters like nobody's business. At this hour too, many locals were seen, sitting on midget-sized plastic stools at every corner of the narrow streets, devouring bowls of noodle soup specially prepared right in front of them. This reminded me of Malaysian hawker stalls but in a far more dodgier fashion.
As we retire to our rooms, I have an inkling that the bustling sounds of annoyance would haunt us again when morning comes.....
....and I was right. The noise increased by three folds! Not only were we disturbed by the noise but traumatized by the massive amount of vehicles hogging the streets. Everyday is a busy working day for these people and the Road Rules in Vietnam were... Wait a minute....what rules? There's NONE, foo! Street lights were merely Christmas ornaments to these people while motorized vehicles, ranging from motorbikes, cars, lorries, buses and even bicycles and trishaws impatiently weaving through each other, including YOU, the pedestrians! And for what sort of reason? The easy answer to this is to avoid accidents. One would normally honk when they see a plausible obstruction in front of them, supposedly informing the obstructers to get their asses out of their way. But despite all these, accidents have surprisingly been avoided. Ian told me later that night that Mama was terrified when crossing the streets. I thought to myself “Well, who wouldn't be?”. Not having touched the soil to her native land since 1975, one would understand that all these chaotic transformation would overwhelm her left and right. The incessant honking and condensed atmosphere leaves her no choice but implode her thoughts with utter disgust. All I could see in her eyes was fear, claustrophobia overshadowed with doubts to continue her travels. Vietnam definitely has changed and is different from what she would envisioned.
Shuyi and I parted ways with Ian and his mom the next morning. The search for Ian's family members in Hanoi would be their main priority for that day and as for the both of us, we had no specific plans in mind but to venture around town and hopefully, not get lost. As usual, my camera never stopped snapping every nook and cranny of Hanoi. This includes fruits or vegetable sellers, many of them actually, carrying their daily source of income with two baskets tied onto a bamboo stick on each end. Some were contented to carry in such a way, gave in and started using a bicycle or the motorbike. I've come to realize that there are no specific location or market (as modern day calls it) to selling their goods. Instead, sellers would set down their baskets at a random corner, starts selling for a good ten minutes before disembarking to their next potential location. No permits required and pretty efficient, I must say.
I was very much immersed in the aesthetics of the old heritage Hanoi. To me, the country still lives in the dark ages. The architecture is distinctly interesting with a touch of French-Noir influence here and there. Some places were poorly maintained and some evolved into a contemporary architecture altogether. Every store seemed to have an old sliding grill attached too. Intricately carved out details on the window sills caught my attention as they reminded me of my childhood days climbing on the windows to my Ah Ma's home. As we walk out of Old Quarters, one can easily tell the difference between the wealthy and the poor both were somewhat separated by a roundabout close to the Lake. Only the wealthy elite can afford to pay the bribes, so they run most of the businesses and get a de facto monopoly at a nicer area while the poorer ones continued on at the Old Quarters. I was surprised to see that every vendors on each street sells the same items too– one street would be selling toys, another - gold, and the next – shoes, the list goes on. Granted the streets at the Quarters were short but every stall was small and tightly sandwiched next to each other like sardines in a can. There's definitely alot of competition involved on every street but unfortunately, very little gain. They play the business so compulsively, it often completely distracts them from matters of survival. There is no incentive to grow and improve, so most businesses aren't developing as much. Sad but true.
Maybe it's just me but coming from the US, I've also come to learn that mild acclimatization is quite possible whilst traveling in Vietnam. The frigid temperature was hard to endure as everyone was often times cranky and frustrated. Ian, being a hairy golden monkey, was profusely sweating while I was close to pulling my hair en route. Not only that, I would find ways to get back to the hotel just to splash or wipe myself down with wet towels. The humidity was overpowering and debilitating our walk around town. We would constantly stop for a Smoothie with no food in mind at all... How strange.
The beef of my night was a brief visit to the 5000-dong beer. Shuyi and I met up with Wilson and two of his friends (Caren and Karen) to enjoy a fine dining French cuisine dinner. On our way to the bar after dinner, we stopped at a crowded stall with a mixture of foreigners and locals. Wilson presented this place as the “Cheapest Beer in Town”. The taste of the beer was on the lighter side but I was more curious to know if the beer was intended to be at lukewarm temperature? Or did the heat in Hanoi affected the beer since kegs were left out in the open without care? We were given our individual midget stools to sit on while waiting for our drafts. I was all smile for the rest of the night as this was a complete switch from a fancy dinner we just had. I, in turn, preferred the peasant way of fooding and drinking. And boy, 25 cents beer? We're movin' to Vietnam, baby! Definitely an interesting experience... was good times. While chugging down my last sip of beer, a flashing thought passed through my mind as I wished Ian would join us earlier to savor and drink up like old times.
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