Ahoy, Hanoi!

Vietnam is a tough country to get into. The intense visa arrangements, the military men prowling, the spartan airport that looks so Soviet you can almost taste the borsch. But I also feel like it will be a tough country to get out of my head. From the moment our taxi swung us into Hanoi, the driver/DJ blasting out Usher and the Baha Men (and yes, it was "Who Let The Dogs Out?" and not a rare B-Side), I felt stirred. I also felt true culture-shock, but in the most intense and rewarding of ways - like diving head first into a steaming bowl of pho. 

Our first night involved a great deal of alcohol. We skipped from a bar called "Boob," to cheap bowls of rice and beer with the locals on the street, to the only bar still open, full of the only wealthy people who I've seen so far and who brought us drinks for our dancing. Normally I am the worst dancer in the room. In Hanoi I am like Gene Kelly in speed. On our stumble out, a gang of men our bikes drove towards us, offered us opium and a ride on our bikes, before a woman in a full boiler suit and face mask hopped off, bolted towards me and grabbed my crotch. Needless to say we are now married and in lieu of wedding gifts we are requesting smear tests all round. 

Wednesday in Hanoi was no less dull, though slightly more respectable. We walked all over the city, normally a relaxing experience as a tourist on holiday. Except in Hanoi, where traffic is king. Every time you cross a road is a dance with death. The trick is to walk slowly and deliberately, as the endless stream of bikes and cars will not stop for anyone. It is also unbelievable to watch the locals steering bikes loaded with an array of goods - flowers, fruits, rubbish, cables - through the oncoming traffic. It is a city without an off switch. 

We saw some tourist sights, though not of the usual, cheery type. There was the war museum, for example, which we quickly popped into to see the relics of Vietnam's wars with France and America.  There were many trophies, such as U.S tanks artillery. We also saw the mausoleum of Ho Chi Min, set in vast grounds of Communist proportions. But most rewarding were our walks away from the main streets. One took us past wild dogs, caged chickens and litter piled high. 

We found what I had been searching for: Bia Hoi, the draught beer of Vietnam. We sat on kids plastic dining chairs and table, were brought the cold draught and then sat down with curious locals who seemed to find our presence strange. The food was simple, rustic but delicious; blanched greens smothered in garlic, fragrant, sticky rice and a small chicken, fried to the point where the small bones were edible and served with powerful root ginger. The moment was slightly soured when a group of pissed up Vietnamese men left a giant pool of vomit next to our table as they left. Nobody batted an eye and it was about twenty minutes before a girl half-heartedly swept it up. Having spent many a year drinking in Chesterfield, this was no shock. 

Tomorrow we are sailing on a junk out to Halong Bay and spending a night on the water, before a final night in Hanoi. I'll probably struggle for Internet so expect a blog about it all on Friday or Saturday.