Hanoi, Vietnam

So. What do I think of Hanoi? It's alright. Not bad. Not great, just alright. Top 10 city? No. Bottom 10? Definitely not. Compared to Singapore, it's hectic, crowded, dirty, frenetic, exciting, progressive. It feels like something is happening here. Everyone is busy and has somewhere to go and something to do. They don't want to be late, yet there's no great rush... Buildings here are being built and repaired, new shops are opening. Everyone is learning English. Vietnam is on the go!

Oddest thing I saw? Easy - the bats skimming the surface of the hotel swimming pool. Swallows, butterflies, maybe. But bats? Come on! That's just weird. It was just as the sun was setting and I was lying in the pool recovering from a long day of walking. I initially assumed they were swallows. They weren’t like any swallows I’d ever seen though! They were very small and very precise with their flying. They didn’t seem to find that there was a fat American swimming/drowning in the pool. Cool and freaky at the same time.


Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum was a bit the same – cool and freaky at the same time. Cool as it is a classic piece of communist kitsch. I mean, come one – embalming your leader and putting him on display is just not normal. On the other hand, I did get a chill down my spine as I walked into the room. This was a guy who had changed the world in a fundamental and significant way. Good or bad? Probably good, but there he was for me to admire. Cool.

For comparison, he looked a hell of a lot more like wax that Chairman Mao. He’s had enough work to make Joan River jealous. The moustache was especially funny looking. It looked like the individual hairs had been stitched back onto his face. Perhaps they had. He didn’t look especially serene. More like, he was a bit grumpy looking.

The tomb was behind glass, with a raised walk way around it. At the four cardinal points were some soldiers, looking very spic and span in their crisp white uniforms. Each had a very stern and severe look about them. Unfortunately, the room was very small. They was not much room for the guards, so rather than looking grand, the whole arrangement looked a bit cramped. The walkway around the body was above the head of the guards, so it made them seem very small. Definitely room for a bit of home renovation.

The buildings around the mausoleum were also worth visiting. The first was the old house of the French Governor of Indochina. It was quite an attractive colonial mansion, painted a luminous yellow colour. As with the mausoleum, getting too close incurred the wrath of the man in uniform who was herding the tourists with his whistle. He looked like he enjoyed a good blow on the whistle and seemed to get excited every time he was allowed to blow it.






Next was a slightly dull exhibit of Uncle Ho’s cars. The highlight was the badly translted English sign – “Ho Chi Minh’s used car garage”. Uncle Ho seems trustworthy, but would you buy a 1950’s Renault from him? Only one careful owner. Only used on Sundays to drive to revolutionary marches. Perhaps not.

There was also a museum dedicated to Ho in a huge ugly concrete building. Very grand, very communist, very ugly. It was also a bit of a “culture of Vietnam” museum. A bit twee, but at least it was free.

Oh yeah, there was also Uncle Ho’s stilt house, complete with hugely long, slow moving queue. Nah. Can’t be bothered.

I then had a bit of a spac attack looking for the one pillar pagoda. It was clearly marked on the maps, so why couldn’t I find it? After wandering around for ages, I finally found it. A very unassuming post sticking out of a small pond with a teeny tiny pagoda sitting on top. I read the description in the guide book again – a wooden pagoda built with one stone column. I had imagines a huge building with a forest of columns, Cordoba Mesquita style, one of which was stone. I didn’t think it would be a building with exactly one column with the pagoda perched on top. Finding such a building was a bit of a laugh. Oh well.

Next I took a cyclo to the Old Quarter. A cyclo is the local version of the rickshaw. It’s basically a bike with a seat at the front. The drive sits behind and peddles away. The drivers initial asking price was D60,000. I thought I was so cool when I haggled him down to a mere D30,000. As I started to peddle off, I consulted the guide book. All trips in the city should be D5,000. Oh well, at least I only paid six times the correct price.

Finally, just to rub it in, the driver dropped me off about 10 minutes walk from where he was meant to. It was worth it though. As tourist traps go, there’s a certain serenity to travelling slowly though town being powered by a sixty year old guy with yellow, mostly missing teeth. There’s also a perverse joy when he pulls out into the traffic. Knowing the 7,000 motor bikes will all respectfully whiz around him, he makes he measured way in whatever direction he pleases and with no reference to road rules. It was like sitting on a rock in the middle of a stream with the foaming water parting on either side.

To begin with, the cyclo’s hood was down. A lovely red floral number with dangling tassels. It covered my face making me feel anonymous and secretive. I positioned my camera on my lap and used the rotatable view finder screen to reveal what the tassels had hidden. Apart from my thunder thighs, I could have been a local. Cool or what!

The sun eventually came out and with it my shield of secrecy was removed. I was, after all, just another fat dumb tourist who had been overcharged by a greedy old man.



I had asked the driver to take me to the lake, but this apparently was too much effort. He dropped me off sort of near the lake and pointed towards the lake in a vague sort of way. I suspect he was stopping off outside his favourite Pho shop for lunch. He was eager to get inside to compare notes with his mates. “This white guy was so heavy and so stupid”. Ha, ha. Good on him.

Even though it was the wrong location, I’m glad he dropped me off there. He stopped on a coo street full of shops. Mind you, everywhere around there is full of shops, but I wasn’t to know.



What really surprised me was the number of art galleries. Proper ones. Not a poker playing dog or Monet copy to be seen. All original, all quality and all local artists. I went into about five and was really impressed. I’m gonna get me some art! But that came later…

I headed off to the lake now towards the pagoda on the north shore. It wasn’t far. Mind you, I would have thought the cyclo driver could have found it. Grumble, grumble/

I paused briefly to check the prices for the pagoda in the guide book. Next to the details was a big warning to guys to beware of male hustlers asking you to karaoke them getting their mates to rob you. Scary! I saw a few dodgy looking guys giving me the eye, but none of them approached me. I was shocked! Aren’t I pretty enough or wealthy looking enough to bother hustling? I’ll survive, I guess…

The pagoda \itself was a bit average. Quite dull compared to many others. It was on an island in the lake though. The bridge over to it was lovely – a shiny red colour. Inside was a display of a turtle that they had found in the lake – about 1.5m long. Huge bugger! It was extra impressive given the very murky colour of the lake. I suspect it may have been a teenage mutant ninja turtle, but you never can tell these days.

At that point, I was a bit over the whole sweating, sore feet thing so I headed back to the hotel for a break and lunch. The food in the hotel was great. Yeah, I should have bought some Pho on a roadside, but you know me – lazy. I had yummy chicken and cashew nut stir fry with a secret ingredient – cubes of mangos. Must try that at home some time.

After lunch, I set out for a bit of a stroll through down town Hanoi. I worked out a suitable itinerary and started walking. I paused briefly at the Opera House for some pics, then I was off down a very long, very straight street that started next to it. Straight away, I was into the art galleries again. More on that later.

This street lead me to the southern end of the lake. This end had a small tower built in the middle The guide book says it’s a symbol of Hanoi and is meant to have a red star on top. The tower is there, but the star is missing. A sign of the rise of capitalism maybe? Or maybe it just fell off?

Again, no-one seemed to want to hustle me or invite me to karaoke. I must either look poor or look like a really bad singer.

Anyway, I kept on walking, walking, walking down this street. After a while, I realised I had missed the street I was meant to turn down. I whipped out the map and realised I’d missed it by a long, long way. I hadn’t realised that the map was at such a high level of detail. I’d walked for about an hour. I should have turned off after 15 minutes. Oh well.

I was now right near the Temple of Literature, so I decided to pop in. This temple is actually a university built a millennium or so ago. It was built to teach Confucian philosophy. Inscribed in stelae are the names of the people awarded doctorates. Each stela sits on top of a carved turtle.

As often seems to happen with Confucian sites, these secular objects have accrued a religious significance due to their age. The locals walk around, touching each stela, then the head of the turtle it sits on. One girl even made sure she rubbed her face with her hands each time she touched one. I suppose that was meant to ensure all the cosmic juices from the turtle got all the way in. Odd!

I was at a bit of a loss as to what I should do next. It was only 3pm - too early to go home. I started wandering around looking for a drink. I couldn’t find anything. No cafes, no shops, definitely no 7-11’s. I hailed a cab and went to Duang Xuang (sp) market. It’s basically Crazy Clarke’s on an epic scale. So much for so, so little worth buying!

Again, no drinks. This was starting to freak me out. At the rate I was sweating, kidney failure could not be too far away! Eventually, I spotted an old lady with three empty soft drink cans on an esky. Success! I was ice cold and only D5,000 – about $0.50. Hurrah!

Slightly rehydrated, I carried on. Before long, I was thirsty again. I tried to find something to drink. No luck. Lots of shops selling shoes, but none selling water! Hmm… Eventually, I spotted some old men playing cards in front of a Coca Cola fridge. Was it for sale, or their club fridge? Then, a tattoed guy in a singlet came up and D10,000, I had my coke. He was a bit crazed looking, so I only feebly tried to tell him D5,000 was the correct price. He snarled a bit, so I handed over the cash and ran away.

Soon after, I was back in the street with the art galleries. This time, I got some prices and they weren’t too bad. All the shop ladies recognised me from earlier in the day. I promised to return. More on that later.

I managed to find the street I was meant to walk down earlier. It was a great street. Full of shops, art galleries, cool little restaurants and the Catholic church. The church was in dire need of some repainting. They whole exterior was decaying in a very cool post colonial way. Outside, kids were milling about playing soccer. Full of colonial charm!

Back to the hotel, a quick swim, a sit in the sauna, then off to the Hanoi Municipal Water Puppet Theatre, or so I thought. It was right opposite the pagoda in the lake. I thought about buying tickets earlier in the day, but never got around to it. I had in mind a cute, bumbling theatre with three rows of seats and 6 puppets. When I saw the tour buses pull up, I realised my mistake. The place was huge, immensely popular and very sold out. Bugger. Cursing myself for not booking earlier, I wandered the streets for a bit, checked my email and felt a bit stupid.

The perfect remedy was dinner! I went to café Opera (or similar) and has an amazing Vietnamese meal. The highlight was 6 spring rolls each beautifully attached to a pineapple which was hollow, with little windows and a tea light inside. Although not as fancy as the similar place I went to in Saigon, the food was great.

The plan was then to go home, have a nap and hit the Hanoi night spots. My feet have other ideas. I was sound asleep by 10pm.

Now, how to fill in an entire day in Hanoi? Step 1: sleep really late. Step 2: Gorge yourself at breakfast. Step 3: Flick on CNN/BBC World, lie on the bed and let the constant station promos drive you into a zombie like state. I did all that, but admitted defeat at 10am. I would have to leave the hotel. Damn it!

Ok, so what’s the tourist attraction furtherest away from the hotel? I’ll go there. The taxi ride will kill a bit of time. Right! Off to the Vietnamese Museum of Ethnography. Two hours later, after looking at some artefacts, some cool ethnic houses and a water puppet theatre (closed naturally), it was time to kill some more time. Let’s go shopping!

First stop, Hanoi’s glittering, newish shopping mall. Not so new, nor glittering. It’s a bit dark and smelly. Time to check out the art galleries again.

There’s a lot of them and they vary a lot in quality and size. All are pleasant, and reasonably priced. Yesterday, I had noticed a very distinctive Hanoi style of painting. Almost expressionist, it features Hanoi street scenes in vibrant colours and blobby brush strokes (hey, I’m not art critic and the brush strokes were blobby). On guy I liked was Le Quan. His pics were quite expensive and more than I wanted to pay. I spotted something similar in a nice looking art gallery next to the Opera House. The gallery was uber cool with huge, lovely paintings. I asked the shop girl if she had any Le Quan paintings. She was a bit confused at my pronunciation, then twigged what I meant. She then gave me a bit of a dirty look. “Oh he’s just a copy cat” she said and led me to the back of the shop. “This is the original master who started the style”, she said. “Very nice”, I say. She suddenly starts smelling money. Maybe the hustlers at the lake were wrong. Maybe I DO look fabulously weathly!

Next thing, she pulls out a photo of the artist and one of his paintings. Next to him is the President of Vietnam, presenting the painting to Mr Bill Gates for his personal gallery. Alarm bells go off! This guy is obviously a proper, expensive artist. If Bill was hanging it on his walls, I couldn’t afford it! I make a quick retreat, saying I’m a bit rushed and will be back later for a proper look. I’ll bring all my pretend money and pretend to buy some! She then said she has lots more in the warehouse if I didn’t like the ones she had on display. Now I know why she can afford such a nice gallery!

In the end, I decide on a nice green, minimalist picture by a young, up and coming artist called Pham Huu Tuan. Hopefully, he’ll stop painting, get famous and die young, so my picture increases in value! Ha, ha! That’s mean!

I also bought two paintings by another, older artists Duong Huy. He seems more likely to die, but is rather more prolific. There was lots of his paintings all over the city.

After all that, it’s time to pop back to the hotel, have a repeat serving of chicken/cashews/mango combo. This time, I have some beef Pho as a starter. Lunch finished, I’m off to the airport!

Overall, I liked Hanoi. Very busy and on the go. It’s a place where real people live. Now that communism is on the way out, the people are starting to push ahead. A few more years and they will be a massively prosperous country. Can’t wait.