The Wandering Chocoholic

Greetings from Hanoi’s Old Quarter, a maze of one-way streets and free-flowing chaos. Shops, hotels, travel agents, merchants, street stalls selling pho and other foods, taxi drivers, buses, tourists, locals going about their business… and the motorbikes.

The millions of motorbikes. What can be said about them that a thousand other travelers haven’t said already? There seem to be no traffic laws in the city. The bikes weave in and out of traffic, up sidewalks, both ways on one-way lanes, through people and cars and anywhere else there’s an inch of space. The cacophony of honking horns is the constant soundtrack of the city, and its loud roar has begun fading into a background din.

Crossing the street is perhaps the biggest challenge here. There are ostensibly crosswalks, but they’re ignored the same way they are at home. There are almost no traffic lights, stop signs don’t exist, sidewalks are generally blocked with parked bikes or streetside food stands, and every intersection has traffic approaching from all directions. The only way across is to master the art of stepping out into traffic and hoping for the best. I think I stood at the first intersection for about five minutes before I mustered up the nerve to cross, and I’m a Montrealer. By later in the day, I was getting the hang of it a bit; the trick seems to be to walk slowly and consistently so the motorbikes can avoid you. I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to truly master this art, though, and I find myself crossing with locals just because it’s easier that way.

Refreshed from my long day of travel after a good night’s sleep, I woke up to find that the weather was pleasantly cool, grey and a bit drizzly, but comfortable at only 15 degrees or so. Looks like those weather forecasts of exceedingly hot temperatures were wrong after all. I sure wasn’t complaining. I started my day with the expansive free breakfast at my hostel. It alone would have been worth the cost of the dorm bed, but this place also has free WiFi, a huge media room with sofas and movies on big screen, a games room, air conditioning, luxurious rooms and facilities, and extremely friendly staff. And oh, did I mention it’s only 6 dollars a night? Vietnam is amazingly cheap and is probably the best value of anywhere I’ve ever traveled. Here, you’d be hard-pressed to spend more than 10 bucks a day on food, even eating the occasional western-style meal at an overpriced tourist trap. Attractions are either free or cost a dollar or two, a pint of beer can be had for under a buck, and those “North Face” and “Kipling” bags cost less than a tenner. (Yeah, okay, they’re all fake, but who cares, they still hold stuff don’t they?) Vietnam has something of an unfortunate reputation for scamming tourists, but I figure that even if I’m being horribly fleeced, I’m still getting a great deal.

After breakfast, I negotiated the motorbike-filled maze of the Old Quarter to get a feel for the city. There’s no better way to get oriented in a new place than to set out on foot. I spent a couple of hours just meandering, people-watching and absorbing the frenetic pace of life here. At first, it was hard to get a sense of what was where, since every street was a confusing jumble. But I started to notice that each street is its own specialty district — one selling luggage, one for tailored suits, one for silk, one for silver, one for shoes, heck, I even went through the coffin and funeral flower district.

Mixed in with each of these are a zillion cafes and street food stands, motorbike repair shops, and in the more touristy neighbourhoods, travel agencies, hotels and restaurants catering to Western-style tastes, all vying enthusiastically for your dollars. Contrary to what I’d been warned about, I didn’t find any of the touts or salespeople particularly aggressive; most would hang back and only offer help once I greeted them, and if I didn’t make eye contact, they pretty much left me alone. Motorbike taxi drivers would often offer a lift, but that was probably because I was standing at street corners for too long waiting to cross. I’d just shake my head or say no thank you, and that was it. This is why I don’t like to put too much stock in other people’s warnings; it’s one thing to be on guard, but it’s quite another to come to a place with preconceived notions and not to give it a fair chance. So far so good on the exceeding expectations front, Hanoi.

One concept that doesn’t exist here is that of a trademark. Shops, restaurants and travel agencies line the streets, all with the same or similar names, each claiming to be the ‘real’ or ‘original’ of their kind. At home, when you see dozens of places with the same name and logo, you assume that they’re part of a chain or a franchise operation. Here, they’re just cashing in on someone’s popularity. For instance, once upon a time, I’m sure that there was a very good Sinh Cafe Travel Agency. Now, it seems like every second shop is named Sinh Cafe, and their offerings — from what I can tell — all seem to be rather average. I investigated a few of the ones that seemed on the up-and-up, since I’m hoping to get up to Sapa to do some hiking, and eventually booked at my own hostel, since the prices are the same everywhere anyway, and the hostel prices are so cheap because they make money off the tours. They’ve been so helpful to me since I checked in, so I figured why not give them the business? Besides, they’re offering me door-to-door service as a bonus, and they’ve offered to store my luggage and give me use of the room after checkout to shower or get organized, so why not?

For lunch, I wound my way through the dizzying array of pho sellers and food stands and eventually had… pizza. Those of you who are disappointed in me, okay, okay, I get it. But I was having a craving for pizza. I know I lose points in the backpacker credibility game over this one. On the plus side, the restaurant I ate at — a blatant tourist trap, but for 4 bucks for lunch, who cares? — had an appetizer menu that included “authentic Quebec poutine”. Our national dish is famous even in Vietnam, folks. Go figure.

This afternoon, I made my way to Hoan Kiem Lake. This lake — really more of a pond by our standards; you can walk around it in twenty minutes or so — is an epicentre of the city and features many of its landmarks. I walked across the iconic red bridge to visit the Ngoc Son (Jade Mountain) Temple and to see the giant stuffed lake turtle. There’s a story here, involving a mythical sword and a golden sea turtle inhabiting the lake, and something to do with a 15th-century Emperor driving the Chinese out of Vietnam. That’s the gist of it, I think, but more interestingly, there actually is a giant turtle living in the lake. He’s not six hundred years old, but scientists estimate he’s about a hundred, and is one of only three or four of the species still alive today. Apparently, when they captured the turtle to give it much-needed medical attention, it made the news in a big way, and was even covered by Time Magazine.

I walked around the lake and over to the Opera House district, on the border of the city’s old French Quarter from its colonial days. Today, the area houses the ritzy and chic — the fanciest hotels, the priciest restaurants, stores like Gucci and Cartier. It’s a very touristy area, since most Vietnamese can’t even think about those prices, let alone pay them. The architecture of the Opera House and the nearby buildings is pretty amazing, though. Just behind the Opera House is the Vietnamese National History Museum, and even though I’m not really a museum person, I paid the buck for admission and made my way through the exhibits tracing Vietnam’s history from the prehistoric period through to the almost-present… well, the end of the French rule, anyway. Vietnam’s ‘official’ Communist history is showcased in another museum.

Then, for something a little different, I went to see the Water Puppet Theatre. This traditional performance of Vietnamese music and puppets that move around in the water is considered a must-see for visitors to Hanoi. Okay, it was kind of cheesy, and okay, the seats actually had less leg room than airplane seats so it was somewhat uncomfortable. But where else was I going to see something like that? Nowhere, that’s where. It was fun, actually, in a surreal sort of way. And it only cost 3 dollars. Did I mention how inexpensive everything is here?

Back to the Old Quarter for dinner, which, yes, was Vietnamese this time. The basis of most Vietnamese cooking is that every meal should combine the five elements of taste: spicy, sour, bitter, salty and sweet. My rice-based stir-fry was indeed very flavourful, so I suspect that this theory has some merit.

My first impressions of Hanoi are — with the possible exception of the motorbike situation — exceedingly positive. There’s nothing organized about this chaos, but somehow it all works. Don’t ask me how. I think that mystery will take longer than a day to decipher.