9th May 2015

Our flight took off slightly late due to a backlog of BA flights ahead of us. Interestingly, despite UKIP’s recent failure in the election, air traffic control seemed eager to let British planes take off first, with foreign carriers following.

The flight itself was enjoyable. With the plane less than half full, there were plenty of empty seats. The food was plentiful and decent, so we cleared our trays. The in-flight entertainment, however, was mediocre at best; the aircraft were old, and newer models were expected in mid-2015. Unfortunately, we’d already seen most of the films on offer. However, Sue watched ‘Paddington’, while I managed three-quarters of ‘The Hobbit’ before my system stopped working. Thankfully, sleep came easily; the 12-hour journey seemed to fly by, with only brief interruptions to wake us for food and drinks.

On arrival, Hanoi Airport seemed quiet, with our flight being the only one docked at the satellite. Yet our baggage took ages to arrive, and ours, of course, was among the last to appear on the belt. Immigration went smoothly, though, as our passports already bore the costly visas from the Vietnamese Embassy in London. We were greeted by our driver, whom I spotted holding a nameplate, and soon we were en route to our hotel. I had been a little concerned since our original booking fell through, and we had to settle for a smaller boutique hotel at the very last minute. Thankfully, the transfer worked seamlessly.

The journey took a while, and we were surprised to find the hotel was located in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, on a street so narrow that the car couldn’t reach it. I was impressed that the hotel porters were waiting ready to take our luggage and wheel it down the street to the hotel entrance with great efficiency. The La Beaute Hanoi Hotel is small but ideally located for exploring the local sights and markets. Our room is at the very top of the hotel, and while the view of Hanoi’s rooftops leaves something to be desired, the room’s charm more than compensated. The staff went out of their way to be friendly and helpful, putting us instantly at ease. Plus, we have air conditioning!

After a quick unpack and a change into shorts, we checked the map provided by the hotel and decided to stroll over to Hoan Kiem Lake, conveniently located in the heart of Hanoi and just a short walk away. Having navigated the busy streets of Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur, we weren’t too fazed by the swarm of mopeds, the chaotic road sense of the masses, and the thick, choking pollution. Carefully, we made our way to the lake’s edge without too much incident.

The key to crossing these roads, we discovered, is to commit fully once you step out. Don’t stop, keep your pace steady, and make eye contact with the approaching traffic. The unspoken challenge is to dare them to hit you and risk a lawsuit, a tactic that, more often than not, gets you safely across.

The lake is picturesque, with a small temple set on an island accessible by a charming wooden bridge. For a modest fee of 30,000 Dong, about 90p, you can cross to explore it. The views of the city from the temple are pleasant, though Hanoi itself isn’t exactly breathtaking. Given the pace of development, it’s likely to improve, but it’s fair to say that being bombed by the Americans in the past didn’t help and has left its mark on the cityscape.

The temple is dedicated to a 15th-century king named Le Loi, who, according to legend, cast a golden sword into the lake. It’s said that large turtles carry the sword around on their backs occasionally, and for centuries, people have fruitlessly searched for it. Of course, only the turtles know its whereabouts. Hence, there’s a local reverence for these mystical creatures.

We continued around the lake and came across a modern statue of this historic ruler. We took a seat in the heat, pausing for a bit of reflection before moving on to the southern end of the lake, where we stopped for a couple of refreshing coconut drinks. Served with straws and a long-handled spoon, a new experience for us, we scooped out the coconut flesh after sipping the sweet, cool milk.

Consulting our map as we enjoyed our drinks, we decided to head for the local prison, Hoa Lo Prison, which wasn’t too far away. For another 30,000 Dong, we entered. Built by the French, the prison had a grim history; the colonial authorities treated Vietnamese inmates brutally, with the guillotine seeing frequent use. Despite this, it appears that quite a few prisoners managed to escape over the years. The French kept the prison notoriously overcrowded. Ironically, after the Gallic masters were ousted, the Vietnamese used Hoa Lo to house captured American pilots during the Vietnam War, dubbing it the “Hanoi Hilton”, a name that hints at the more favourable treatment supposedly given to these inmates (as the locals would say).

The prison is a fascinating place to visit, rich with both historical detail and a fair share of propaganda. Before leaving, I picked up a hat from the souvenir shop.

Eager for more history, we headed next to St. Joseph’s Cathedral, a large, impressive structure that hasn’t been in regular use for decades. Sadly, it seems destined to be left to decay, likely a result of political priorities and a lack of a Christian community to maintain it.

Ironically, just outside the cathedral’s railings, we saw a wedding couple posing for photographs with the grand building as their backdrop. That one’s a bit of a mystery to me!

We meandered back to the lake’s edge and visited another temple, where we found a 600-year-old poem carved into a large stone tablet. The poem focused entirely on themes of insurrection and politics, suggesting the Vietnamese have long honed their resistance. It seems the French and Americans might have benefitted from a closer look at Vietnamese history before trying their luck here.

Navigating our way back through the buzzing traffic, we found a sixth-floor restaurant with a balcony and decided to enjoy some drinks while watching the chaos unfold below. We found it so fascinating that we ordered another round and were soon rewarded with a dramatic spectacle: two heavily loaded mopeds collided, spilling goods across the road. Thrilling stuff! Fortunately, neither driver was injured. In fact, both appeared unfazed; they simply helped each other upright their mopeds and carefully reloaded their precariously balanced cargo, utterly unbothered by the mayhem continuing around them.

We returned to the hotel and its blessed air conditioning. I took a shower while Sue had a nap, and then she washed her hair. As we waited for it to dry, I joined her for a quick nap myself. I was soon woken by a Skype call from David in Bulgaria, who, along with Genya, had just returned from a trip to the market in Dryanovo. We enjoyed a nice, clear connection; he could’ve been in the next room! We finished our chat just as Sue’s hair was deemed dry.

Once spruced up, we braved the crowds and mopeds of Hanoi again. Now that it was dark, the chorus of hoots, honks, and the putt-putt of moped exhausts seemed even louder, with riders speeding up, seemingly emboldened by the cover of night.

We found a restaurant on Hang Dao Road, which also hosts the city’s night market on weekends. We were the only ones dining, but it was still early by local standards. Sue ordered chicken, while I opted for catfish; both dishes hit the spot. After dinner, we set out to explore the market. We planned to walk down one side of the street, reach the end, and return along the other. However, we hadn’t quite anticipated how long this road would be.

Junction after junction passed by, the street filled with twinkling lights and vibrant stalls laden with items both useful and not-so-useful. We looked at a few, considered a few, and mostly left things behind. Just when we thought we’d reached the end, we stumbled upon a folk group performing beneath a large statue, with an equally large crowd watching.

We stopped to listen for a while. Sue found it charming, but to me, it sounded like a cat clawing frantically against a metal dustbin. The musicians, as talented as they might be, didn’t help the racket. The singer, a pretty girl who swayed to a beat I couldn’t quite catch, smiled sweetly as she screeched her way through some folk tale or maybe even a pop song, who knows. It crossed my mind that the Americans likely endured a fair bit of this soundscape when they were here in the ’70s.

Several junctions later, we finally did reach the last stall, which appeared to be selling relics from the Battle of the Little Bighorn and Custer’s Last Stand, at least, that’s what it looked like. On our way back, we carefully avoided the alley-cat serenading band and retraced our steps to the starting point. By this time, it seemed the whole of Hanoi had turned up, so moving was no longer a problem; we simply lifted our feet and were carried along by the tide of humanity.

Back at the hotel, we packed our small bags for tomorrow’s overnight adventure to Halong Bay, then settled down for some well-earned rest.