6pm. Eighteen hundred hours.
And a whole day to pass before Charlie and Jo were due to sweep into my travels. Oh the pain. The child in me was bursting at the seams! The temptation to pee myself with eager anticipation... and the thought the latter may prove to bring very brief satisfaction and a rather red face as I crept through the back alleys of Hanoi's Old Quarter to get back to the hostel for a change of clothes.
I need not have worried for Hanoi is so intense and bizarre that I was easily distracted. The Old Quarter's warren of little grey streets with packed-in tall, narrow buildings ( built on narrow plots to avoid taxation in ye olden days ) were thriving with activity. The occasional tourist could be seen amidst the throng of mopeds and vendors, rather perturbed pale faces above the dark haired locals, attempting to pass eager Hanoi traders who squawked "Hello! Hello!" for their attention. Every street has it's own place in the grand scheme of Hanoi trade, the shopfronts of one selling identical cheap utility pieces for the home with extractor hoods of varying sizes glinting in the sunlight where the owner sits as he welds metal rings to construct buckets without the use of any safety goggles or gloves; another road has streetside displays of shirts and pantalons spilling out; the next may be the place to buy your shoes ( though I will be damned if I can find anything that fits my size 10/11s! )... whatever junk you need in your life you will find it here. Me.... I played hard to get and did not part with my cash... without a struggle at least!
The city is bizarre and interesting and a whole day there proved quite exhausting. A 6am start and a walk to the banks of the lake brought humour into my day as I watched the spectacle that is the Vietnamese morning workout! The locals are apparently dressed in their pijamas as they stroll around the waters edge... where they suddenly break into strange arm swings and hops... or sit on a bench and throw themselves into all manner of positions... absolutely hilarious to watch.
DO NOT COME TO HANOI.... if you are prone to breaking into a nervous sweat when crossing the road! What a ball it is... and you have to follow the style setby the locals in order to get through the chaos of Hanoi road traffic. Just step out confidently and edge slowly through the hoardes of bikes and mopeds... the swarm will pass around you and a minute later, as if by magic or the good grace of God almighty, your feet hit the pavement on the other side! And noone cries "CHICKEN!"
6pm!
Back to the hostel...
...and lo and behold the mountain beavers ( a story worthy of another blog! ) are together again in the far away land that is Vietnam! Oh the joy as Charlie ( my cousin ), Jo ( his beautious wife )and I hugged with shrieks and yelps... from them of course.
Biahoi ( the local beer brew ) ensued as we sat on tiny plastic todler stools on the side of the pavement and exchanged tall stories of adventure and intrigue. Then the sweaty dash to the train station wearing ricepaddy hats ( much to the amusement of the multitude of Hanoians who caught a glimpse ) to grab our cabin for the journey to Sapa in the northern mountains of Vietnam. Now the adventures are really starting and oh what fun we have in store!
PS. AFTER 10 MONTHS MY BACKPACK HAS FINALLY BEEN ON MY BACK!! Haha!
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