Three days in Old Hanoi

In retrospect, the dead of winter is not the best time to visit Northern Vietnam, as its climate is like that of Northern California at this time -- cold and wet and foggy.  In fact, I'm surprised that there are no redwood trees growing here, as this very much reminds me of the type of weather they seem to love.

Cold weather does not dampen the spirit of the City, however.  The hustle and bustle starts at around 6am, with hoards of motorcycles and scooters darting to and fro between the cars and pedestrians.  A little rain deters no one.  They grab whatever they have that is rainproof -- a tarp, a garbage bag, a raincoat -- and get on with their business.  I even noticed the ultimate cure for the backseat driver: a tarp thrown over the passenger on the back of a scooter.  You can't critique if you cannot see.

While Hanoi is becoming a major metropolitan city, with skyscrapers and freeways, old Hanoi remains like the old historical section of any big town.  The heart of the city beats in Hoan Kiem Lake, around which the people gather in public squares and wide sidewalks.  I am struck by the cleanliness of the place; there is no trash, and no graffiti as if I could read it.  The Vietnamese do have a sense of pride about their community, even if they have little sense of order as displayed by their zany driving habits.  The rule seems to be, "whomever has the biggest vehicle has the right of way".  Nobody messes with the cement truck.  There does not seem to be any rules for two-wheeled vehicles, they can go anywhere, and often do.  I suppose in a crowded city, it creates efficiency to take up any space that's available.

It's easy to get lost here.  The streets are not on a grid system, but snake around and change names often.  Orientation would be easier if the sun would come out.

I met Mr. Lai at the Highway 4 restaurant on Ma May Street.  Highway 4 specializes in, well, Vietnamese/California cuisine if I may.  For example, I've eaten lots of spring rolls on this trip, but here at Highway 4, they are deep fried bean sprout spring rolls served with a wasabi mayonnaise.  Along with a surprisingly delicious Bier Ha Long, 40,000.00 dong ($2.00 US) goes a long way in Old Hanoi.

Murphy's Corallary

There must be an extension of murphys law somewhere that reads:  "for every trip that lasts over 10 days, there will be at least one day where everything will go wrong."

today was that day.

I got on the sapa summit bus back to the lao cai train station at 5:30, and it left on schedule.  that was the only thing that worked.

the girl in front of me got carsick, and was, well, projectiling all over the bus.  It was so bad that it rolled around on the bus floor and got on luggage and shoes.

the bus got a flat tire.  we all had to sit in the stinky bus while the tire was being changed.  this made us late for our train checkin time.

being late for the train checkin, i was moved from the first class pumpkin express, to a no-class quad sleeper that rolled around all night like a drunken sailor.  the other three people in the cabin with me were chinese teenage girls with fully-charged cell phones.

i arrived in Ha Noi at 4:30am local time.  A man stopped me on the platform and asked if i needed a cab... Sure... we got out to the cabs and i'll be darned if it wasn't a motorcycle, just like cambodia!  OK, well, here we go a moto in downtown ha noi in the middle of the night.

turns out the hotel is about two blocks from the station... i could have walked.

Oh, wait... I forgot one part.  While I was in SaPa, my HaNoi agent Mr Luis Phong decided that it would be in my best interest to change my hotel.  You see, Mr Luis is looking for investors, and nothing is too good for his latest target.  When I first met Mr Luis, I was expecting a sage viet of about 62 that could pluck a fly from mid-air with a pair of chopsticks.  what I got was a plucky 26 year old with a marketing degree, that eats his spaghetti and meatballs with a fork and spoon.  So he moved my remaining bag to the new hotel and told me to checkin at the Astoria instead of the Symphony.  OK.  On with the story.

The moto-cum-cab driver pulled up in front of the astoria.  it was pitch black with the roll-up door, rolled-down.  Cabbie says "look, here, Astoria, this it".  I agree and jump off the moto.  He pulls off into the pending sunrise and I'm standing in the middle of downtown Ha Noi in the middle of the night with a backpack and a camera tripod.

Oh, I forgot another part.The Sapa summit hotel was having electrical problems yesterday, and try as I might, I never got my cell phone completely charged.  On the way to Ha Noi, the phone went dead.  So, Add "with a dead cell phone" to the paragraph above.

then the streetlights went out.

at about 6:30, after two hours of being stared at by every Viet grandmother carrying her wares on a stick to the marketplace, i heard the clang of the lock on the rollup door.  The door slowly opened, revealing a pair of jet-black eyes, into which i stared and smiled and said, Hello, as if 51 year-old white boys normally sit all night on the sidewalk.

the door opened revealing the lobby of the hotel astoria hanoi.  inside the lobby were 5 motorcycles.  there was a makeshift wooden ramp used to wheel the bikes out onto the sidewalk.  behind the bikes there was a pile of white comforters on the floor.

the young man invited me in and showed me a stool where i could sit.  "we have internet for you to use", he said, as if that was why i was here.  after about 5 minutes, they actually asked me, "so, why you here?", and i said, "I'm mr paul, i'm supposed to check in early today."

the pile of white comforters sprung to life, and the white blanket slid down reveaing the person who apparently was supposed to be up to let me in.  He jumped to his feet and  began to check me in, fully clothed and ready to work.  within seconds, the comforter stirred again, revealing another body... two boys fully clothed sleeping under the same pile of comforters in the middle of a hotel room lobby.

well, things settled down after that for a bit, but now the travelers bug has caught me, too many red chilies in my pho bo i think.  white punk on imodium.

have you ever seen that jack lemmon/Sandy dennis movie "the out-of-towners"?  Im telling you, I cant make this stuff up...

pumpkin to the northern mountains

The pumpkin express train chugged it's way up through the Tonkin mountain range towards Lao cai, the literal last outpost before crossing into southern china. It is saturday morning; the children are on their way to school in their white blue-striped uniforms. Some are riding bicycles, but most are walking. The school in lao cai is modern and clean and there is a stand with over one hundred bicycles near the front gate. Besides being one of Vietnam's most northern cities, Lao cai was once a French outpost; the radio towers all have the familiarity of that famous one in downtown Paris.

One more hour by crowded bus to the Sapa Summit hotel in sapa town. I have not seen the sun since i left oakland. It is so foggy here that its like living on ocean beach. The town is like brigadoon; now you see it, now you don't. The hotel is stylish and the staff aim to please, but there is no heat in the rooms.

Yesterday, I walked down to cat cat village. Cat cat is a village of black hmong people, so called because they dye their clothing a deep indigo color. THE fashion statement in footwear here is knee-high rubber boots, due to the ever-present mud and water on the roads. The trail to cat cat is muddy in places, but most of the way it is a stone staircase, i would guess a good 600 steps to the bottom of the canyon. They don't tell you about that in the sales pitch.

The vultures prey on the weak and old, and so after 600 steps to the bottom, I found a scooter to take me back to the top. Best 100,000 dong I ever spent (5 usd). Cold and damp and muddy, i returned to my hotel room with newfound appreciation-- at least I was not sitting outside by a campfire, which is the heat source for the locals.

Sa pa and surrounding area is about as authentic as it gets. I must say that, except for backpacking, this is the most rustic place i have ever been.

Today is Sunday, and I have been told that the road to bac ha is closed due to cold and a sandstorm; there will be no ethnic market today. For now, i will continue to explore the town of sa pa. Later on, its back to the train station to return to Ha Noi.

Running before the sun

Do you realize that, when you take the midnight flight from san franciso to hong kong, you don't see the sun for 20 hours? Must be what it's like during a Finnish winter!

Theres not much to say about a flight. Fourteen hours cramped into an aluminum tube with 500 strangers. The only seats remaining were the notorious Bs; you know, that seat that is squeezed in between A and C. In seat A was a pleasant Indian chap. He ordered off the Hindu menu. He was nervous, had a very jumpy right leg, and apparently no awareness of personal space etiquette. Honestly, i woke up once and caught him with his head on my left shoulder!

In seat C was the cutesy little Chinese lady,, donning the latest g-force maroon bucket hat and matching windbreaker. She had problems firing out how to use the personal entertainment system (there goes one stereotype), but the cabin crew helper her out and soon she was absorbed in some kooky Chinese soap opera.

Me? I had a seven-hour modern family marathon, laughed half way to hong kong, if you have not seen it, see it!

Romeo my colleague, is on of saying, "you're the only white guy this place". Of course, we only go to lunch international boulevard in Oakland, and white guys don't go down there without an escort. His observation is accurate and foretelling of the rest of this journey.

Next, dragon air to Hanoi, i should bee there in three hours.

Perspectives

"All men are created equal. They are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness."

- Ho Chi Minh, Vietnamese Declaration of Independence, Sept, 1945.

The American War ended one year before my eighteenth birthday.  At that time, I was an ultra-conservative, righteous American, ready to endure the draft but surely not looking forward to it.  Stopping the spread of communism and preserving our way of life was worth the sacrifice, after all.  And it was all that much more important, living in the San Francisco bay area and having to deal with hippies and draft dodgers in San Francisco and Berzerkeley, who simply didn't understand the dire emergency engaging the entire world.

When the truth about My Lai finally came out -- the stories and the pictures -- I couldn't believe it.  I layed on the living room floor and cried.  It was a brutal lesson in insanity, and it changed my viewpoint forever.  It exposed the manipulative method of a corrupt puppet government, bought and paid for by western corporations that were hell-bent to maintain their exploitative operations in Indochina.  The sad fact is that we are fed those same lines every decade or so, and like lemmings, we follow our government off the cliff over and over again.

Vietnam has been a story of exploitation for centuries.  The tribes that settled the Indochinese peninsula were all originally from southern China.  Most of them fled China during one of several mainland wars, and settled in Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia.  While the Thai cooperated with the U.K., the rest of Indochina was occupied by the French.  The French, God love them, were not very good landlords, and eventually lost control of Vietnam through their abuse.  The Viet Cong -- the same group that were portrayed in the U.S. as evil, bloodthirsty communists -- were the same homeland heroes that overthrew the British during our own revolutionary war.