Hanoi, Vietnam
New Year's Eve in Northern Vietnam
New Year’s Eve was always going to be hectic. Combine New Year’s Eve with the bustling city of Hanoi and you get sensory overload. We were accustomed to the lazily slow pace of everyday Vang Vieng and a whole day of waiting at the quietest airport I’ve ever been in, so to land in Hanoi on the 29th December was a jolting change to our systems.
It was already well into the evening when we hopped on the shuttle bus from the airport to the centre and, with 37 stops before ours, we weren’t getting to our accommodation quickly. It felt like a brightly lit tour of the metropolis by night though, as we glided past shops on the overpasses, swooped over pathways that were lit with French-style lampposts or ducked between skyscrapers.
When we disembarked the bus, on the outskirts of the Old Quarter, we were thrust in the middle of hundreds of scooters, bikes and the fastest buses you’ve ever seen. It’s no underestimate that Vietnamese road rules are bonkers and the bus dropped us on a little car park island in the middle of an intersection. I’d read plenty of advice about Hanoi beforehand and so our first point of business was to find the pedestrian overpass and traipse with our rucksacks into a hopefully less chaotic part of town. Thank goodness we knew of the overpass! Trying to cross that road at night, would have been like the most extreme Frogger level.
The opposite side of the overpass, away from the Old Quarter and tourist parts was shadowed with that unease you would feel walking down back alleys of an unknown street at 10pm. We didn’t say much, staying vigilant with one eye on Google maps, as like in an ant farm, we went this way and that down narrow side streets to find our homestay- completely shuttered up, locked and with no one around. We’d just had long enough to start uttering “well, what on earth do we do now?”, when a neighbour pulled in on her scooter, spoke rapid Vietnamese, dialled a number and then signalled 5 minutes for us. Phew! We were quickly welcomed home by our host, as she explained the tight security during the evening and showed us the different ways of getting in and out.
Homestays are more common in Vietnam than we’d experienced so far, they’re like the equivalent of how AirBnB used to be: people with spare rooms letting them out to people passing through and minding their own business. We experienced later on our Vietnam tour, that some homestays were more like pitching up at friends’ houses and being told when dinner would be ready, but more details for those will be when I tell you about another motorbiking trek in the sticks.
Fun at Hoan Kiem lake
As it was New Year’s Eve, there was a stage built on the road at the top of Hoan Kiem lake and some of the main roads were closed to traffic to accommodate the street performers, entertainment, food carts and hundreds more tourists like us, taking delight in meandering down the middle of the traffic-less roads.
Entertainment included street artists, musicians and hiring remote control cars or tricycles for the kids to zoom around on. I loved seeing spots of games or activities dotted along the promenade, which gave families chance to have quality time together. One of these is pictured below, a pile of hundred of wooden pieces on the floor, where people were trying to build their best structures.
Street food
My favourite from Hoan Kiem was Bò Bía which was 2 crisped wafer pancakes with a wedge of fresh pulled nougat, coconut shreds and sesame in between, on a stick of sugary goodness.
Lyndon’s favourite was the bánh tráng nướng sometimes known as the Vietnamese street pizza, but it’s also like a taco. It’s again a lightly crisped pancake, although thicker than the Bò Bía Ngọt like a corn tortilla, then topped with ground pork, fried shallots, pork floss, spring onions and hot chilli sauce.
The countdown to 2024
CHÚC MỪNG NĂM MỚI! = HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I’d picked the location for the famous firework display on Hoan Kiem lake at midnight on the 31st. After sampling cocktails from a few rooftop bars, we made our way to the epicentre of activity for the countdown to midnight. The anticipation was palpable as, over the course of the night, people pitched up on the grass verges where you could still hear the music from the stages without paying tickets. People sat on plastic bags, or their flipflops, and inched their way closer and closer whenever the party in front of them broke and left to go to find a toilet and their space was snapped up. We ended the 31st with a prime spot on the side of the Hoan Kiem lake, between the Ngoc Son Temple with it’s bright red bridge lit by lanterns and the stage.
It is a feeling I won’t forget in a while, when we all stood readying ourselves for the grand countdown and then in unison, everyone counted down in a mix of languages, all with the same tone of voice and vigour. Lyndon and I missed a few numbers with a quick glance at each other as in this moment, we shared with so many, every one in unison and yet with different languages. I think for me, that was the magic of the countdown at New Year. Poised with phones and cameras in one hand and the waist or shoulders of your loved one in the other, we were ready to welcome in 2024 with the magical display of pyrotechnics to be leashed upon the Vietnamese cityscape. I’ve never been to the London fireworks, but this was what I imagined it’d be like. Only, the fireworks lasted a few minutes and fizzled out with no final brocade or willow display. The guy who let off a flare in the middle of the countdown was feeling quite pleased with his display now as the official firework display was comically underwhelming. The confusion spread amongst the crowd and it became a source of merriment and another thing we had in common with every other tourist: the thought of “was that it?” “I sat for hours, for that?” It still brings a chuckle to us thinking about it now.
More of the unexpected
The next day, we continued to retrace our steps round Hoan Kiem lake and Old Quarter taking in the marvels and trying as much local cuisine as possible. One of the joys of Hanoi Old Quarter is how the streets differ at night compared to day. It was a whole new experience to wander the streets and comment on the transformation between 10am and 10pm. We found some great places for food in Old Quarter and towards Beer Street- a web of cheap beer and street food that seduces the sweaty travellers. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but certainly a place for people watching and to watch in morbid curiosity!
One memorable meal was overshadowed by a woman in a party of friends next to us. I now cannot remember what we were eating, and neither can Lyndon, as we were mesmerised with equal amounts of horror and fascination at this woman’s meal instead. I have never, and don’t think I’ll ever watch, someone slurp and jiggle limp chicken feet with the speed or aggressiveness that she did. I’m not sure it’d make good viewing to recommend it to anyone else either, other than to share the feeling of utter bewilderment.
After watching this slight woman make her way through a bucket of chicken feet ( a long way from KFC now!), we weren’t encouraged to try chicken feet for ourselves and it remains on the list of things we did not eat. According to a local, chicken feet is the equivalent of chicken nuggets in the UK. Doesn’t that say a lot? At least with the feet, they can be sure their food has come from a chicken.
We did eat a portion of pigeon meat unintentionally. I’m pretty sure the pigeon didn’t intentionally want to end up in a wonton either! As a vegetarian of several years now, I cringe to say, it wasn’t the worst and it certainly wasn’t the last food surprise of the trip!
Beer street was where we witnessed the audacious stupidity of drunken Brits. We had filled our stomachs with tantalising Vietnamese food and were doing that post-meal debrief foodies have when they want to recollect all the tastes and textures that a perfect meal has, blissfully unaware of everything else and fully submersed in the chaos of early evening Hanoi. The drawling sounds of estuary accents from two drunken Brits cut through our daydreams and we tuned in to watch as one of the young lads decided to flounce and shoulder barge a young Vietnamese waiter, with added profanities. What escalated next was over in several seconds. The young waiter refused to let slide the physical contact from this arrogant tourist and retaliated with a shove. Next, punches were thrown by the Brit in a bout of violence and sheer aggression towards the local and the Brit’s mate tried to join in. Within a blink of an eye, the spectacle was centre of the street as several other waiters from neighbouring restaurants joined to pin the Brit. In a few strides they’d picked up plastic chairs of the restaurants and in a swift sweep brought them smashing into the drunken Brit. Shouts of the local women came, as it appeared that it didn’t matter how many plastic chairs were splintered apart in order to pin the Brit. One Vietnamese guy grabbed a wooden table - like those foldable exam desks- and shunted the Brit’s mate away from the pile on that was making the Brit surrender. The mate slunk off quickly and quietly and wisely didn’t bother to re-join. Another waiter went straight for the Brit’s feet and flung away his flip flops- tactics it seems- tell them that tourists are disarmed if they have no shoes and thankfully very quickly, the Brit realised the fight was not his to be won. Once he’d stopped trying to maim the guys now sat on him, disarmed and wounded only in pride and dignity, he ran off down the street. This left several of us absolutely agape with shock, or for some, streaming it straight to Facebook live and TikTok. The aftermath was the absolute rollocking that the young waiters then all got from the matriarchs who chastised the behaviour, despite self-defence, and ordered the young boys to retrieve every last piece of plastic shrapnel scattered around and were probably on washing up duty for at-least a week.
I think it was the first time that Lyndon and I had experienced shock that actually shook us enough that we weren’t sure what to do with ourselves.
Water Puppets make everything better
Overly cautious of others and shameful of the UK’s tendance for alcohol and hooliganism, we distracted ourselves by going back towards Hoan Kiem lake and buying tickets for Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre.
The water puppets were captivating as they played out legends and stories accompanied by the traditional instruments and songs played alongside. We’d bought some audio guides and I was actually grateful mine stopped working, as it was completely redundant anyway: “here is a puppet of a man who will tell a story", with no elaboration on what the story then was.
One of the stories told was the Legend of the Restored Sword, which is set on the Hoan Kiem lake and was really interesting.
If you’re interested in a quick detour from my stories (approx. 15 mins), here is a link to the legend with some fun illustrations.
Yes, I want to read the Legend of the Restored Sword.
Ballroom, Salsa and Waltzing in the street
You know what else gives faith in humanity and brings joy to everyone involved? Watching local dance troops don their shiniest shoes, their dancing outfits and showcase many dances in a huge outdoor space.
Person of the hour was someone who clearly had dance training, but was out with their mates. They were watching, like us, and cheering at the efforts of the dancers. At one point, they even went solo and joined in, despite none of the mates wanting to be a partner. It was fantastic, when one of the dancers noticed them, saw too how well his posture and form was and invited him to lead her in a dance or two! You could tell they were thrilled and after initially laughing with their friends, they took to the floor and wowed the audience. The improv skill was amazing! They led the woman, old enough to be his grandma, with grace and elegance and we were very impressed.
I had several snippets of footage to share with you, but unfortunately some of the footage has been lost on Lyndon’s phone. However, I have one wonderful video that is saved. No matter what the others and their partners were dancing, this iconic dancer was the embodiment of joy without apology and I loved it!
Mausoleums and moseying around
The majority of our few days was spent in Old Quarter, round Hoan Kiem lake and over towards the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. Unfortunately, we didn’t have chance to go to the Women’s museum: a definite on my list if I was to return.
We walked to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum: we’re backpackers, of course we’re going to walk for 2 hours rather than pay £3 taxi fees!
We walked via the train street and wow this was an Instagram tourist trap, but enjoyable all the same. We did indeed take photos of this instagrammable spot, however they were on Lyndon’s now-broken phone, which is now at the bottom of our rucksack with very little hope of recovering photos! We also saw many Government official buildings and a temple built in the middle of a small lake just outside the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.
Side quests and other trivial things
Wanted! Collect 1 hairbrush. 25XP
One of the minor side quests of Hanoi, was when I needed to replace my hairbrush. With the humidity, heat and lots of water changes, my hair had been through the works and distinctly so when I managed to snap a tangle teaser hairbrush into two! Trying to find a hairbrush in the tourist district of Hanoi was actually harder than you would think. We’d got a few hours before we were to board our bus to Ha Giang and I thought that’d be plenty of time to go searching the shops. Supermarkets and convenience stores did not sell them. Souvenir shops by the plenty had none. I even went through the toy shops and baby shops in hope of finding, even a toy brush, that might do me while we went out in the sticks. Motorbiking and camping in the days to come was not a prospect I wanted without a hairbrush. I got pointed in the direction of spas and so went and asked 4 different salons and spas if they would sell me a hairbrush, with no luck. Eventually, after spending far longer than we should have done and getting a ridiculous number of miles in, I found a tiny market shop for a hairbrush. This is just one example of something you don’t expect to waste time on while travelling!
The Wrong Way! Find the real bus stop. 100XP. Bonus XP granted if you can do this with all members of your party still in tact.
Our bus to Ha Giang left at 10:30pm. Despite arriving at the bus station and checking with the staff about the whereabouts of our platform, and then camping out in a coffee shop (whose toilets were 4 blocks down the road!), it turns out we were, indeed, in the wrong place. We were told and gestured several opposing opinions by locals and bus operators that were still left in the depot and the whole debacle was quite stressful, as if we missed this bus, it’d be after 10:30pm and we’d have to then search for accommodation and miss our itinerary in Ha Giang by a day. We ended up in the middle of a coach park at 10:30pm and completely trapped in, with a couple who were spitting feathers and rapid French. Luckily I understood their French, but in the chaos, I didn’t speak it. Instead, the bloke would speak French, and I’d answer in equally distressed English and together we had a full conversation much to the amusement of our other halves who only caught their half of the conversation.
Eventually, we managed to ping pong our way through the bus depot car park and find a person, who was just finishing putting the chains on the gates and persuade him to let us out, so we didn’t have to try and find our way back through the depot to the station.
We were the last on the night bus and it was definitely an experience! The first of many experiences the night buses of Vietnam offered us… more in a later post.
Gosh, what a lot for our 3 day stint in Hanoi! Off to rural Vietnam next on the Vietnamese leg of our trip for more motorbiking adventures…
Thanks again for reading my stories and postcards.
Lovely photo s. Nice to hear you are having a wonderful time together love auntie Lyndsay and Paul with all our 💕