Hanoi: Day One

At baggage claim in Hanoi, I noticed a lot of red suitcases pushed continually around the belt. Normally, I wouldn't notice such a minor detail, but we have grown accustomed to flying with Korean passengers, 99 percent of whom travel exclusively with black Samsonites. It is always easy to spot Sami's indigo hiker's backpack make it's way around. Much like Korea, however, there is a mad rush to jockey for position at baggage claim, as if the bags aren't crawling at a snail's pace. Perhaps my humble upbringing in the wide open spaces of the US has instilled in me an unrealistic value in elbow room. Whatever it is, I have never grown accustomed to being shouldered out of the way by elderly women a foot shorter. Most of the time I take it like the accommodating weenie that I am, but there have been instances where I have pushed back with something more than subtle force. So far my action has elicited no more than a grunt and sideways stare from my victims, but Sami is always left mortified by her companion's behavior.

Luckily, there was no such incident leaving the Hanoi Airport. Unlike our first night in Saigon, we were picked up by one of our hotel drivers and were spared the frustrations of having to negotiate a fare. It took nearly an hour to drive from the airport to our hotel in the Old Quarter. Judging by the scenery on the other side of the windshield, I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that we had entered another country entirely. The sky was mottled gray and thick as we rolled through brown flooded rice paddies flanked by dirty concrete buildings.

Once inside its boundaries, the city instantly overwhelmed us. Narrow main thoroughfares sprouted impossibly skinny sidestreet tributaries. Rapidly crisscrossing motorscooters clogged every artery and parked scooters monopolized sidewalks. Trudging on foot was a move at your own risk proposition and many heavy white tourists clutching fat spouse arms and Loney Planet guides stood, mouth agape, and waited for a moment of open space that never arrived. Space not taken up by one man vehicles was swallowed by spillover markets, and indeed thousands of rural residents had flocked to Hanoi days before to capitalize on the upcoming Lunar New Year holiday.

Thanks to planning and luck we met our friends Tor and Becky Ostrom outside of our hotel at sundown. As we cautiously tiptoed through the chaos all around us, Tor regaled us with a tale of their cobra eating adventure earlier in the day. A live cobra was sacrificed for them and cooked in a number of different ways (judging by the pictures, I was surprised at just how much meat a snake contained). Highlights included ingesting the still beating heart and swilling a shot of snake bile. Apparently, the bile is none too appetizing. Tor smiled maniacally as he verbally painted, but Becky merely smiled, happy to have the experience behind her.

I took the initiative and chose an eating establishment for the evening. It was a little more authentic (see: dirty) than Sami would have liked, but she was happy enough to play along- a fact she would come to regret later when food borne illness took hold. But in the meantime, we sat down on the ubiquitous tiny plastic stools and ordered by pointing at fellow diner's plates. Our bowls of noodles were good, but they contained an unidentifiable green vegetable that we later pinpointed as the cause of Sami's sickness.

The three of us (minus Sami) drank beers with dinner. Much to the horror of my dining companions, I asked for an ice-filled mug- the way the locals drink it. Apparently they did not agree with my dangerous approach, but when is an authentic experience not worth the risk of diarrhea? Oh, yeah- every time.

We drank more beers out on the street (all very legal and commonplace) after dinner and did our best to ignore the peddlers. Eventually one of us caved and bought too much of something we all wanted a little of.

We said our goodbyes with an early morning looming over our heads. Back at the hotel Sami gave me two instructions while hurrying toward the toilet. I was to buy a bottle of water and request a wake up call for 6am. The visit to the front desk provided yet another reminder that we were away from Korea: an employee with an actual sense of humor. When I asked for a bottle of water she said "Ok, one million dong" as opposed to the ten thousand it actually cost. When I asked for a 6am wake up call she said "ok, we wake you up 3 a.m."