Hanoi

Judy. As much as I loved Hoi An, I was ready and excited to go to Hanoi, but when we landed in Hanoi and I got a look at the pollution, I almost asked Ted if we could cancel and go somewhere else. I mean, with Tet and the burning of the gifts for ancestors, it was rough in Hoi An, but here we are smack dab in the middle of the city burning gifts and trash, plus vehicle emissions, in a city surrounded by mountains. Add to my distress, our beautiful, open, sunny Maison Fleur in Hoi An was gone, and we settled into a closed off hotel on a dirty street where we are surrounded by motorcycle rental shops. And the motorcycles are everywhere and fast. I reminded myself, though, that I always need a day or so to settle in. No begging to leave just yet. 

And I’m glad I waited. Hanoi is a large, capital city, with all that entails, good and bad. And we are in a rapidly developing country, with all that entails, good and bad. Despite its issues, this is an interesting—and often charming—city. 

There are, of course, lots of tourists, from well-dressed Europeans, Asians, and Americans, to young kids with towering backpacks and dreads. All seem to blend in beautifully. But it’s the locals I love to watch. We arrived on Tet, and the day after, walked down to Hoan Kiem Lake, which dominates a park filled with flowers. Locals in traditional dress (mostly women) posed by the ancient shrine and towers, while both professional and amateur photographers captured them. 

Contrasts: ancient Turtle Tower and a new building beyond 

Women in their áo dài, photographed in front of a shine

And teen boys like to wear their street gear for tough photo

I thought that would be the last I saw of the traditional dress, but—no! Although many of the working women in our neighborhood wear pants and shirts that could come from WalMart, we see women in velvet and high heels navigating the impossible sidewalks to duck into tiny tea houses and restaurants, and sit on ridiculously tiny stools to eat their street food. It is definitely a city of contrasts. 

A street cafe

A street barber takes a break

A woman poses by an orange tree at the lake

We’ve found wonderful things. Train Street, where people pile into the cafes on either side of a train track in order to see the train go whooshing past, inches from their faces. It’s just way cool, so we went twice. The old City Gate, the National History Museum (but only the 20th century part—the earlier is under renovation), Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum, where the faithful line up for as much as two hours to walk past his embalmed body, the fascinating Museum of Ethnology, and Women’s Museum, Hoa Lo Prison (Hanoi Hilton), now mostly destroyed to make way for Hanoi Towers, a sparkling new apartment building, and, of course, the Thang Long Water Puppets. 

Train Street

City gate. The flags indicate a shrine.

Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

Hoa Lo Prison and Hanoi Towers Apartments

We live in the Old Town, with winding streets, narrow alleys and a plethora of motorcycles that we’ve learned to dodge, since we need to walk in the street because more motorcycles are parked on the sidewalks. In the old days, each street harbored its own shops—the one next to us is mostly hardware. There’s also jewelry street, tinsmiths’ street, fabric street, and so on. Packed in among those are souvenir shops, street food, coffee shops, and temples. Walking the same streets, we spot new things we’ve not seen before—unless we’re dodging cars and motorbikes. We’ve gotten pretty darned good at crossing the street between vehicles. You just have to keep moving and keep your eyes open. 

Working my way through the motorscooters

Typical street traffic

A paper jewelry and accessories set to buy and burn for ancestors

Just outside the Old Town is the old French Quarter, where it’s much easier to walk on the wide sidewalks. Buildings are European in style, and that’s where the embassies are located. There’s also a bustling “new city” with skyscrapers further out. We saw that part when we went on trips out of town. Hanoi is a great base to explore other parts of northern Vietnam. 

European-style houses grace the French quarter near the Cathedral

But for the most part, we manipulated our Old Town village, nodding xin chau to old ladies sitting just inside shops, hawkers pushing “maa-saa!” (Massage), men sitting on impossibly small stools drinking tea and smoking, and folks still burning offerings. An almost hidden wine bar, Tannin, became a favorite escape some evenings.

Modern, European wine bar in the middle of Old Town

Our hotel staff is delightful. Jasmine makes sure we see everything she considers important, Ben greets us with “Haiiiii! Where you going today?” On our first day meeting him, he gave us Tet “lucky money”! Minh, who handles most nights, is young, polite and efficient. 

Our super staff--Minh, Ben, and Jasmine

Although the streets on either side of us are crazy busy, Hang But, our block-long street, is blessedly quiet. Our room is on the front of the building, and at night you can hear the children playing in the street and see the lady in the velour pantsuit getting her exercise by walking up and down the street over and over. About 8:30, a recording with the sweet sound of children’s voices fills the air. We thought it was an announcement telling children it’s time for bed, but no. It’s the nightly garbage truck playing a song about how important it is to keep the city clean and green. (You can check it out on YouTube—Hanoi garbage truck.) 

Before coming to this country, I read a beautiful book about a family living in northern Vietnam, called The Mountains Sing. It takes place over many years, and we’ve now visited some of the places the author talks about. That helps me a lot to understand more about the country. 

Will we ever come back to Hanoi? Maybe. Probably not. We’ve not seen everything, but I think we’ve seen enough. I was expecting some bitterness about Americans and the Vietnam War. I think, though, that these people have been through so many wars and so much poverty, that we’re just an ugly blip, and, in the words of a character in a book I read, “That was years ago, and, anyway, we won.” The country is changing fast.