[LEMONS] 12.04.2002
Welcome to Vietnam
Will You Be Staying At The Classic Street Hotel?
Today we flew from Bangkok to Vietnam. We landed in Hanoi after a short flight (1.5 hour) on Air France. This is a beautiful country.
(A quick digression regarding French airlines: they are the bizomb. Not only did they have fantastic food, wine and cheese-- of which we've had scarcely any in the last six weeks--but the service is just unbeatable. I asked the flight attendant for two more wines after we finished the ones we had with lunch. I explained that we were from California, and drank wine just about every day, but had had none [okay, one glass] for the last six weeks. He smiles, and returns with two paper bags containing four bottles of vino. Not that Sutter Hill rotgut they serve on airlines in the states, but genuine fancypants French wine suitable for snobbing around with.)
The airport was completely unlike BKK in that it wasn't swarming with people, and there were no touts to be seen. Instead, a government employee took us to a Vietnam Airlines minibus (which was how we were planning to get into the city anyway). It was a $3 bus ride into Hanoi, proper, and there were 9 or 10 passengers altogether.
The ride in was gorgeous. Rice paddies and cornfields the whole way. The streets lined with bicycles and scooters, with decidedly more bikes than cars. Harper and I kept looking at each other and saying "critical mass," as it reminded us of both the car-free, take-over-the-streets movement that we ride in and the theory that was its inspiration. (Crital Mass began in SF after some cyclists watching films of Asia noted that when cyclists reached "critical mass" they could force their way past the cars.) Most of the women wore the hats that I've seen in every Vietnam movie ever made.
The city itself was beautiful too. Tall, narrow buildings, a la San Francisco or Charleston, with trees lining the streets. In the streets, which are swarming with cyclists and scooters, young men play soccer, vendors hawk food, and lights glitter all around.
Since we had paid three dollars, rather than two, the driver was to take us wherever we wanted in the old city. At least that was the idea. We had a guesthouse in mind, as did most of the other passengers. All of us were going to stay in the vicinity of Huan Kin Lake in the old quarter.
But we couldn't get the driver to understand where we wanted to go. Any of us. He dropped two women off at a Classic Street Hotel, and then we explained where we wanted to go: the Queen. We showed it to him on a map. He seems to get the picture. (By this time, Harper and I have decided to go with everyone else, who had made a group decision to focus on one hotel.) So he drives us around for a while and drops us at... another Classic Street Hotel. Everyone out of the van, except me an another guy who stay and watch the bags. The rooms are, apparantly, nice enough, but very loud. As a group, we decide to pass, mostly on principle. While inside, the driver revealed to one of the other guys in the van that he was the manager for said Classic Street Hotel.
We insist on being taken to the Queen. Okay. Fine. Back in the van. We drive for another ten or fifteen minutes to arrive at yet another (say it with me) Classic Street Hotel. Thankfully, this was a good group of travellers, and everyone kept their sense of humor and worked together to get us where we wanted to go. There was none of the whining and moaning we encountered on the VIP bus in Hua Hin.
But.
After an hour of tooling through old Hanoi the lying set in.
"You must take us to The Queen 2 because...
"our friends are staying there and expecting us"
"we already have a booking"
"I have hurt my leg and cannot walk that far"
Eventually, at the third or fourth or fifth Clasic Street Hotel, the manager of the hotel tells us that the driver cannot take us to the Q2 because streets of the old quarter are too narrow. But by now we've figured out where we are, and the troop of us set off through the streets. Unlike Bangkok, you don't see white people eveywhere, so the sight of eight caucasions with backpacks dodging scooters and bicycles with maps in hands must have been pretty amusing to passersby. It was to me, at least. Especially since, after reading all about pickpockets and bagsnatchers in our guidebooks, we're all madly clutching our packs.
But it was a hoot. We were all laughing and having a great time with it. And it was such a great introduction to the city and the country, and we made some new friends, some of whom we'll be travelling to Hualong Bat and Cat Ba Island with.
Tomorrow we head to the Hoa Lo Prison Museum, Hoa Lo Prison being better known in the States at the Hanoi Hilton. We're also heading to the Women's Museum and will try to see Uncle Ho, assuming he is back from his annual trip to Russia where he is, well, I don't know what exactly. Further preserved.
- l i n k -
