Hanoi - First Impressions

Hanoi Airport at night, 

bustling with families arriving from overseas

coming back to celebrate Tet, the lunar new year.

They all come bearing gifts, 

enormous boxes that clog the baggage carousel. 

Outside into the darkness

The shock of heat

(after all, it’s winter in DC)

Barbara and I bundled into a taxi

Cruising through the streets of the city

Signs I can’t comprehend, the letters familiar, the words totally foreign

Through my exhaustion, I smile, feeling the thrill of being in a new country.

Cam on, thank you,

Chuc mung nam moi, Happy New Year, 

I practice silently in the back seat of the cab.

At last the silent driver turns onto a quiet street

And halts the car in front of a steep slight of stairs.

I glance up:

Thien Thai Hotel

A warm greeting, our bags are whisked away

Minutes later, in the room that will be 

home away from home for the next five nights

I stretch out on the bed – 

what joy after being cramped in the plane for too many hours. 

I allow myself a deep sigh of satisfaction:

Our adventure has begun!

New Year's banner, right across the street from our hotel

View from our hotel window 

Breakfast time

and the buffet doesn’t disappoint me.

An east-west feast of rice congee, noodles with vegetables, omelettes, miniature pastries, tropical fruits, pho, and more.

The coffee is rich and delicious, filling my mouth with luxuriant flavor.

Thus fortified, Barbara and I grab hats and water bottles, 

and set out to explore Hanoi

No specific destination, just wander through the Old Quarter

and experience the sights, sounds, smells, sensations.

Just steps from our hotel 

Wherever possible, we keep to the pavement,

careful to dodge the ubiquitous street vendors 

and motor scooters parked two or three deep on the sidewalk, 

and trash, so much trash.

Skinny stray dogs sniff for choice morsels. 

Everywhere, people, people and more people, 

some squatting in front of storefronts,

puffing on cigarettes, or just observing the scene. 

Right on the sidewalk, 

women in conical hats tend steaming pots of broth,

which they ladle into large bowls on top of noodles and bits of meat

for morning customers who perch on low plastic stools. 

Chopsticks in hand, they reach for fresh herbs 

to adorn their morning soup.

In crowded Hanoi, 

Life is lived out of doors. 

The smells of frying food blend with the odors of exhaust fumes 

and the aroma of burning incense from the Buddhist temples we pass. 

Inside a Buddhist temple

Traffic roars past, some cars and cycle-rickshaws,

But mostly motor scooters, a driver plus a passenger or two or three,

many sport masks to cover their mouths and noses

Feeble protection from the polluted air.

The scooters weave among cars and pedestrians

with nerve-shattering abandon.

They even drive right onto the sidewalk.

Barbara and I look at each other in disbelief.

Horns blare constantly, adding to the sensory overload.

I’ve heard about scary stories about crossing streets here.

We come to a corner.

It’s time to face the challenge.

I’m pleased to see a traffic light

but not pleased to see that motor scooters ignore the signal.

Waiting for a small group to gather, 

we manage to cross safely.

The seemingly endless traffic rushes on.

We look up and note the “tube” houses, 

four or five stories tall,

their narrow frontage a way to minimize taxation.

Once-elegant older buildings 

show a French influence with their iron balconies, 

others are clearly slapdash new construction.

Red flags with gold stars fly, 

Red T-shirts with pictures of Uncle Ho.

On every street, bundles of tangled wires 

are looped around poles, draped across streets, 

and festoon building façades

adding to the visual cacophony.

Down the side streets

we find shops selling fine silks, lacquerware, paintings, 

as well as cheap souvenirs.

Another turn, and we walk past tubs of live fish, cages of chickens, 

stacks of rice cakes, mounds of unfamiliar fruits and vegetables.

A cloud of steam rises as we near the seller of bao. 

Unable to resist the steamed buns,

I stop and pull out Vietnamese money, 

counting out the thousands of dong.

For less than a dollar, 

I bite into pillowy soft dough and a savory filling. 

  

We reach the northern edge of Hoan Kiem Lake, 

and the maze of the Old Quarter opens up 

into wider streets, larger and more modern buildings. 

Decorations for the Year of the Pig are everywhere.

Celebrating the Year of the Pig at the park around Hoan Kiem Lake 

The city is still in celebration mode,

the Tet holiday lasting a full two weeks. 

Children aren’t in school, and

families dressed in their new clothes are out in force, 

strolling on the path around the lake, 

snapping photos with the pagoda in the background. 

There are so many people, 

it’s like walking around the Tidal Basin in DC 

when the cherry blossoms are in bloom. 

In fact, it seems that cherry trees are blooming here in Hanoi,

just in time for the new year. 

I tower over the slender women, in their brilliantly colored body-skimming ao dai.

While I’m sticking to my T-shirt, 

they seem to be impervious to the heat and humidity.

I chug back some tepid water. 

How I would love some ice cream now!

To escape the crowds, 

we veer off towards broad avenues

hinting of the colonial era

and note the elegant Metropole Hotel,

the neo-classical Opera House,

exclusive designer boutiques –  

clearly another side of Hanoi.

After a few hours

we’re ready to drag our sweaty bodies 

back to the hotel for some air conditioning. 

My first impression of Hanoi?

It isn’t beautiful but it’s alive.

It’s exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.

There’s a palpable energy here in Vietnam’s capital city,

an energy I’ll soon discover characterizes the country as a whole.