Here are a few notes, photographs, and videos from Hanoi. Singapore coming soon – stay posted!
ĐỐNG ĐA — Across the busy road, the kid has our food. I don’t know what it’s called – some pile of organ meat over rice, slathered in a brown sauce – but it smelled phenomenal in the intoxicating night bustle, and I couldn’t refuse. Once I ordered, he motioned for us to sit across the motorway.
Now, he coolly steps into traffic, letting the mopeds and cars flow around him, inching his way toward us. He plops the bowl on the plastic table that we’re squatting over and smiles at the two of us, the odd tourists who found themselves wandering around Dong Da. I stare at his back as he dances back to his post, almost forgetting about the bowl of steaming hot goodness in front of me.
THỐNG NHẤT PARK — I’m moving up a stream of people flailing their arms, rubbing their faces therapeutically, staring blankly ahead – men with tank tops rolled up into crop tops, women with visors tilted over their entire face.
With the exception of the odd group of old women doing Tai Chi, and the shirtless men of all ages playing this mesmerizing form of badminton with their feet, people just seem to be doing what feels good to them, not trying to look formidable or cool.
I’ll admit it feels a bit absurd – then a switch flips in my mind. I smile thinking of the weirdness that awaits me back in the U.S.: people walking golden retrievers around Central Park in tight-fitting athleisure, training for marathons in Oakleys, breaking in new biking shorts, working new ab routines… and whatever those San Franciscans with electric unicycles think they’re doing. Nice to be in place where people aren’t so full of shit.
PHỞ BƯNG HÀNG TRỐNG — Is this really the place? We peak into the alleyway and walk carefully through the open door of a quiet, dark house. A man hears us and points: up.
Upstairs, we’re greeted by a miniature old woman who smiles warmly and immediately starts talking to us in full Vietnamese sentences, the way you might talk to a dog: Good boy, you’re hungry aren’t you? Go, sit! Sit!
So we sit. In a bedroom. There’s a fan and an altar to a husband and a bunch of little plastic tables scattered in the space not taken up by the bed. She comes out soon with… the best bowl of soup I’ve ever had.
Another old lady with a devilish grin hobbles over to set the other tables, sees us and laughs, keeps pointing at the fan and saying something. When I look confused she smirks and slaps me playfully with the menu: Silly puppy, turn on the fan! It’s hot! You’re all stinky.
Whenever I did dumb tourist things that would have gotten us yelled at in places like Paris – horribly mispronouncing things, walking away with the loaner helmet from a moped ride, underpaying by an order of magnitude (1 dollar is something like 15,000 bajillion dong, so I kept miscounting) – the Vietnamese were always gracious, bemused and not at all angry.
These traits defined Hanoi for me: a sense of warmth, humor, and loving forgiveness of inconveniences. Lots of inconveniences.
Smiling in a sea of mopeds.
✤
^ If you got this far, congrats. Enjoy the greatest video ever recorded by man.
Enjoyed this piece. Thank you 😊. Particularly liked the pictures and videos help to get the true flavor of the place.
This one made me laugh! I guess doing dumb tourist things causes natives to treat us like puppies. That’s really funny. These food stops at these different cities around the world are entertaining in and of itself.