We opted today to embed ourselves within the chaos of HaNOISE and take a city tour in the equivalent of an open-top bus. In this case. it was an electric trolley with 6 seats, driven by a smartly-dressed little man who drove us around his city, proudly announcing the names of various places, though without any detail.
We slid down narrow roads, gazing at the millions of people sitting on tiny stools outside shops, sipping local tea, smoking, chatting or playing mahjong. In the Hanoi streets, the streets seem to be themed - one entire street sells sellotape, in every conceivable variety. Another fixes motorbikes. Hanoi is a bit like an impromptu motorbike car-park, with hundreds of them crammed into every available space on every available pavement.
We checked out of the lovely boutique hotel where we stayed - it's the Hanoi Diamond Elegance, 32 Lo Su, if you're ever in the area. Great location, great view from the restaurant at the top and friendly staff who really want to make your stay great.
In my commuting life, I regularly spend 33 hours a day sitting on a train just outside the London Bridge area where there is 'congestion'. There will come a day, when Southeastern will anticipate the inevitable 'congestion in the London Bridge area', but it will not be any time soon.
Where am I heading with this? I opted to spent 33 hours on a train, all the way from Hanoi to HCMC / Saigon. It was one of the best journeys I have ever done in my life. And I have done quite a lot of journeys. I love journeys. 'When you rush so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there'. Journeys transport you into another world, a world you don't yet know; a world which you will never again experience in quite the same way. If I did that journey again, it would be different again; every journey is unique in the way in which it is punctuated by the individuals who collide with your world on that particular leg of the journey. It's a good metaphor for life.
We had a 4-bedded berth; a tiny cabin with bunkbeds each side. One had to climb up, using strategically-placed foot-holes and hand-rails, to reach the top bed, where I happily slept for much of the journey. The beds were narrow - obese travellers should take note, as they might not be that comfortable.
Jo occupied the bottom bunk, myself the top. There was a constant stream of intriuging characters occupying the other two beds. First, the canoodling couple, to whom I would have said, 'get a room' in Vietnamese; though I suppose they were sort of, in a room already, albeit with two others nearby. They didn't stay long, thankfully. They alighted and were immediately replaced by a mother and her gymnastic 3-year-old who was performing moves which I haven't been able to do since 1985, if ever.
They didn't stay longer than a few hundred miles and were soon replaced by a grumpy young man; a bright-eyed mother, her bouncing 7-year-old boy and her 8-month-old baby. The grumpy young man immediately sought refuge on the upper-bed, demonstrating a complete hands-off approach to parenting. I chatted to the mother a little, using my two words of Vietnamese and her limited English; she even let me cuddle her baby, which was a kind gesture. It transpired that the man on the top bunk was actually nothing to do with her, and that he was just a stranger who had boarded the train at the same time and entered the same cabin; internally, I felt bad about judging his parenting style.
They went and by this time, we realised that we were possibly the only people doing the entire journey, from Hanoi to HCMC (Saigon - which, Pip, technically only refers to District 1!); all 1,070 miles of it.
I handed back the baby, fell asleep, and when I awoke, three very small Vietnamese ladies arrived. Two top-and-tailed in the lower-bunk and the older lady sat with Jo on her bed. At one point, one of the top-and-tailers started vomitting up blood, which was alarming, but she soon recovered and went back to sleep.
Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to do a spot of Guiding admin, to make some notes for the blog and to sleep, snuggled up toastily in my green duvet, kindly provided by the Vietnamese train people.
Ubiquitous staff wielding trolleys of food and drink plied the way along the train; we enjoyed beer, coffee and, of course, a train picnic.
There were a number of announcements throughout the journey and I'm ashamed to say that I have no idea what they said. The driver could have been reading out the telephone directory, his shopping list, a list of all his friends - who knows. It did worry me that he could have been telling us to evacuate, or something, but as our blood-vomitting friend and her companion paid no attention, we didn't worry. None of the announcements seemed to matter though; we duly arrived in HCMC, just a characteristic couple of hours late.
It was 5.45am when we arrived at the train station and it was heaving. Honestly - think Northern Line at London Bridge on a miserable Tuesday morning, when they close the barrier 'to reduce congestion' - that is a comparative picnic. The only way to get a cab is to grab hold of one as it's moving, then stay with it till it stops, asserting that it is yours. If Jo hadn't have done that, we'd still be waiting there now (NB - that was 15 hours ago)
The hotel weren't overly happy that we wanted to check-in nearly 9 hours early, and didn't hide this fact.
But we did - then crashed out to catch up on some sleep. I'd booked this one through Expedia - they were doing a 3-for-2 nights offer, or something. It's not as nice as the previous one; the staff are miserable and the swimming pool is permanently full of children having swimming lessons. But it'll be ok for a few nights and the location is good.
It is my last day in Vietnam! Tomorrow morning, I am deserting my travelling companion and am bound for Cambodia! We celebrated our last evening together for a while, by attempting to eat in a swish restaurant, which we didn't succeed in finding, so ended up in a dodgy back-street place having we're not quite sure what to eat. We then went up to the Rex Hotel, which has a roof terrace, and enjoyed a sublime gin and tonic. Have I mentioned my love of roof terraces?
I have a new road-crossing technique today. If you want to cross a road, locate an elderly local who is crossing the same road, at a similar time, and walk with them. Simple. This has not yet failed me.
The next blog-post will be from Cambodia, so do keep reading. I'm hoping to meet up with a schoolfriend who I have just found out lives in Phnom Penh. We were last in touch fourteen years ago - what's a few years eh?
Goodnight faithful readers. Thanks for reading.
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