Flashback to Hanoi

Yeah, it's late, but better late than never....

The overnight bus journey to Hanoi was, as all overnight bus rides, long and uncomfortable. However, this trip was really lovely in its own way. The moon was full, illuminating the surrounding rice fields. It was absolutely beautiful. I didn’t get much sleep, mostly because I was busy peering out the window at the peasants who were working by the light of the moon. It was all quite extraordinary.

We stayed in the old district in Hanoi, which is centered around a lake. It’s very pretty, but absolutely crazy. People drive with one hand on the horn, and beep continuously. As a result, it’s hard to have a conversation on the street. The moto traffic is extremely dense as well. Crossing the street requires a lot of faith, as you just step off the curb and walk at a slow and steady pace, hoping the zillion drivers avoid you. We saw a moto accident while we were there, fortunately it wasn’t too bad.

After we got off the bus, we were immediately transported to a guesthouse, whose bathroom smelled like a giant cabbage farm. I do not particularly care for cabbage, mostly because it reeks. It goes without saying that relocation was scheduled for the next morning. It was quite an excursion to find reasonably priced food. (I found I developed a cheap mentality in SE Asia. I’d trek all over town comparing prices to save a bit of money. The next day I’d reminisce with pride about my bargain-hunting abilities, tally up my cumulative savings, and realize it was approximately fifty U.S. cents. Then I’d sort of feel like a jackass.)

The next day we relocated to a guesthouse with the narrowest staircase ever. I actually got wedged in the landing. No guys, I’m not that fat…yet. Unfortunately, my bags from Hanoi were. After stashing our stuff, Jon and I wandered off to find The Women’s Museum, which received rave reviews from the Lonely Planet. On the whole, I would say it was interesting because it was unique. That said, some of the “artifacts” (e.g. giant lace doily) were ridiculous. I had a lot of fun, partly because Jon was cracking jokes and I was laughing my way though the exhibits.

After the museum, we decided to go see a movie, She’s the Man. We decided to see this movie because we only had two choices, and neither looked very good. We had to sit up front, so we could hear the English dialogue, which was nearly drowned out by the Vietnamese voice-over. It was probably better in Vietnamese, as the acting was cringe-inducing.

The next day, after a nutritious breakfast of Oreos, we headed out on the town. Jon went present shopping for his mom’s birthday, and I was making a pilgrimage to Mecca, or shoe alley. Unfortunately, and heartbreakingly, the excursion was altogether disappointing. At first glance, the shoes looked cute, but up close, they all looked pretty cheap. Plus the ladies working the shop kept telling me I had big feet. (I don’t.) I then wandered to a clothing shop where the shop owners indicated I was too wide for their clothing. The Vietnamese are not a shy people.

After dinner we stopped by an ice cream parlor called Fanny’s, then headed back to our side of town and a nearby bar to watch football, England v. Ecuador. We showed up a bit late and the place was packed. For most of the game, I sat on a giant barrel. That’s right, a barrel. One would assume I would have this experience in a Texas bar. They would be mistaken. Anyhow, the game was sort of making me nervous. England wasn’t playing as well as they ought to, and we always want England play really well. It was all good because England won, and this is entirely too much talk of sports, so I’m moving on to the next paragraph.

The following day was a daytrip to the Perfume Pagoda. It is, by no means, a quick trip. A two hour bus ride (where, if you’re lucky like me, you get to squish yourself between two big ol’ boys), a hour boat trip (rowed by forceful ladies), and finally a hour trek up the mountain. I’m a “strolling” sort of person. When it’s a million degrees out, I’d like to move at a leisurely amble; however, that was not happening. I think my entire shirt was damp by the time I reached the top. The pagoda is essentially a cave that is shrouded by a perpetual cloud of mist. There’s not much inside, but the whole misty effect is pretty cool. That night I had some of the most fabulous eggplant ever. It was unbelievably good; I’m salivating right now just thinking about it!

The next day was kind of an admin day. Jon mailed stuff home, which turned out to be a bit of an ordeal when the (un)trusty Lonely Planet directed him to the wrong post office. I looked at housing stuff in Illinois and wasted oodles of time on the internet. We bought tickets for a water puppet show, then chilled out next to the lake for a bit. A really sweet girl stopped by, and spoke with us for a bit to practice her English.

The water puppet show was really cool, but before I tell you about it, I’m going to digress briefly about my other puppet experiences:

(When my mom and I drove through Missouri on our way back to Texas from Iowa, I convinced her to stop at a puppet museum. It was so weird; I just had to see it. I rang the museum to check on the hours.

After confirming the hours, the lady on the other end asked me, “Now, are you just visiting the museum, or would you like to paint puppets as well?”

I responded in an overly excited voice, “OH!!! So we can PAINT puppets as well?!?!”

The Little Old Puppet Lady replied, “Why, certainly! How old are the children?”

I nearly wet myself, and so did Little Old Puppet Lady when I told her the “children” were twenty-four and fifty-five.

Little Old Puppet Lady said puppets were for all ages, even adults, so I painted myself a puppet. I also coerced my mother into painting one as well. It was harder than it looked. Definitely the oddest thing I've ever done on a road trip.)

Anyhow, the water puppet theater takes place in a pool of water about two feet deep. Puppets are controlled (from behind a screen) with long sticks. On the whole, I found it to be both enjoyable and unique. Some of the better scenes included fireworks, and all the scenes were accompanied by an orchestra.

After the show, we went to check out the “local” ice cream parlor, which was absolutely insane. There was no queue, there was simply a huge and angry mob. Grannies were throwing elbows at teenage boys to get to this stuff. (I started to wonder if the ice cream had “special” ingredients.) The locals would eat their ice cream (two cones at a time) on the back of their motos, which were parked along the street. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

This post has been ridiculously long. Sorry. I’m writing about Halong Bay next, which will probably be even longer.

Adios!