My whirlwind visit to Northern Vietnam had been an exciting and memorable one, but my final day in the capital city of
Hanoi was more than I ever could have asked for.
I had visited Vietnam during my brief summer vacation. I was aware of
the fact that the end of July was the height of the rainy season there,
however, it made no difference to me. Personally, Vietnam was one of
those mystical places that reached out to me. For whatever reasons, the
lack of throngs of tourists, the fact that it has yet to be completely
ravaged by globalization or the fact that it is just so beautiful, I
simply had to see it. With a new job in Korea, I found myself in a
position that made it financially and geographically possible to just
“pop on down” for a short vacation.
I had begun planning and researching my trip to Vietnam several months
earlier. I was very excited about the prospects of going somewhere so
“cool.” It was to be a solo trip, but as things go, the plan changed. It
began with one coworker asking if he could join me and in the end,
there were five of us. This presented both positive and negative
experiences, but anyone who has ever traveled in a group knows, “that’s
the way it works.”
To begin with, there is no possible way that someone can absorb a
country in eight days. No matter how small a country is geographically,
there are simply too many experiences to have, too many people to meet
and too many moments to process. For those reasons I had planned to
target a small area of Northern Vietnam. I had eight days to see three
major areas and the rest of Vietnam would have to wait until another
visit.
This trip had more planning than most I make. I usually adopt a “fly by
the seat of my pants” approach, but with limited time, I hoped to get
the most out of it.
We arrived in Hanoi in early afternoon and decided to only stay the
night. Early the following morning we were off to the “jaw-dropping”
UNESCO world heritage site, Halong Bay, where more than 3000 magnificent
islands jut out of the water in a dream-like way. From there, we
trucked it back to Hanoi. We then hopped a train to the northerly
elevations and hill-tribes of Sapa, a former hill station in the days of
French Indochina. After a few more awe-inspiring days in the lush
north, we would make the journey back to Hanoi.
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Kevin in Sapa
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With a population of roughly three and a half million people, Hanoi is
the second-largest city in Vietnam and is home to the country’s
Communist government. Hanoi sits only 200 kilometers from China. Once
entering the city, the French colonial influence upon everything from
architecture to cuisine was immediately apparent. Streets are lined with
palm trees and dilapidated concrete buildings, painted in a rainbow of
pastel shades. Hordes of people, cars and motorcycles seemed to coexist
in a form of organized chaos. The “organized” part of this chaos quickly
seems to disappear once you step from your taxi and are on foot
attempting to cross the street.
We had all stayed at a guesthouse in the Old Quarter our first night in
the city. The staff was friendly and quite entertaining, so we decided
to go back. That evening we took one of the more helpful staff members
to eat at a lovely little restaurant a few streets away.
We had one full day and night left in Hanoi. Until this point, we
remained a group. We had ventured to Halong Bay together and then again
on to Sapa. With one day left, we all wanted to do different things.
Bernard and Andrew wanted to visit a Buddhist grotto several hours
outside of town. Steve wanted to cruise around the city on a motorcycle.
J.D. and I decided that we wanted to explore the Hanoi’s Old Quarter
and see what it had to offer.
We woke up at dawn, which is always a good idea when traveling. It
allows you to squeeze as much out of the day as you possibly can. The
tooth-turning, lip-curling, high-octane coffee so common to Vietnam is
another fabulous way to start the day. After a few mugs of the
caffeine-enriched beverage and a fresh baguette, J.D. and I were off to
wander the streets. We planned to hit several museums that day, but it
was far too early for anything to be open. We explored the alleyways,
observing women selling fruit, vegetables, coal and almost anything else
you can imagine.
The shops were just beginning to open. It was still relatively cool
during these early morning hours, but what started as a crisp feeling in
the air began to change as the morning progressed. The sun was becoming
more intense and the streets began to fill with a deluge of motorcycles
spewing toxic clouds of black exhaust. We popped in out of shops as we
made our way to the Hoa Lo Prison Museum. Hoa Lo Prison was dubiously
named the “Hanoi Hilton” by American pilots and officers who were held
there as POW’S during the Vietnam War. Men such as American Senator John
McCain languished there for years. Only a small portion of the prison
remains, but it makes a strong impact nonetheless.
As we walked out of remains of Hoa Lo Prison, we started up Hai Ba Trung
towards the Temple of Literature. Making our way towards the temple, I
could feel the intensity of the sun on my arms. I was wearing a tank top
and had forgotten my sun block at the guesthouse, a cocktail for
trouble. It was now well above 40°C, and I felt as if my arms had been
laid across a hotplate. Within 20 minutes we were at the temple, where I
was relieved to find some shade and a cold bottle of water.
We soon retreated to the sanctity of a pub for a bite to eat and a
couple of much-deserved Tiger beers. It wasn’t long before we were
pounding the pavement again, weaving our way through a series of narrow
side streets, searching for Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum and the Hanoi
Citadel area.
As we entered the embassy district on the outskirts of the Hanoi Citadel
area, the streets began to widen and the buildings appeared more
upscale. The sun was intense as we entered the giant square in front of
the Mausoleum. The size of square was impressive, and I can only imagine
the tens of thousands of soldiers who have paraded through it over the
years. Giant red flags emblazoned with a lone yellow star flapped
ominously overhead, while soldiers with AK 47s watched us quizzically.
At one point, in my naivete, I raised my camera to snap a photo of an
impressive-looking white mansion. Soldiers quickly ran towards me,
waving their arms frantically. I didn’t take the picture.
We wandered through this area for some time, but decided it was time to
make our way back to the Old Quarter. My arms were officially burned to a
crisp. We plodded along, shopping and sipping on a few beers as the
afternoon soon faded into twilight.
It was dinnertime, and J.D. and I decided to end the day with a small
parade of Tiger beer. We decided to sit at a lovely little restaurant on
the edge of Hoan Kiem Lake. The Old Quarter looked beautiful at dusk.
Everything seemed to have a bluish hue about it as the sky grew darker.
It seemed like a fitting end to my first trip to South East Asia.
My eight days in North Vietnam had been wonderful. They were filled with
islands, boats, trekking, good people, great food, a typhoon and a
terribly sunburned pair of arms. I can’t wait to go back to Vietnam.
Source: http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/03-08/sunburned-shoulders-and-the-hanoi-hilton-hanoi-vietnam.html