A Life Less Ordinary

So we’re all on the same page, I’ve given myself a military code name whilst in Vietnam: Lonesome Pine. First off, it’s the name of one of, if not the best Carbon Leaf song. Second, I like to think that I am pine-like, because if I had to choose a tree, I’d pick pines because they’re from the north, strong, and used for Christmas. My role as lone wolf started yesterday morning before the hung-over residents of Caritas Bianchi Lodge awoke. I arrived at the airport for my ensuing 10 hour journey to cover a distance that is equivalent to going from Minneapolis to Detriot. That’s Asia for you. My layover in Bangkok was actually not too bad, especially because they bathrooms in Suvarnabhumi Airport smell like…well how I imagine Pointsetta’s should smell: sweet and flowery, but with cinnamon and pine…like those potpourris your Grandma always had.

I arrived in Hanoi but it was dark by the time I got to my hotel around 10pm and I just meandered the surrounding blocks until finding a still open chic sidewalk cafe with delicious vegetable fried rice and a rum/coke for around US$13. The next morning I did the tourist circuit, visiting the famous Hoan Kiem Lake and accompanying The Huc Bridge and Den Ngoc Son (Jade Mountain Temple). After a baguette sandwhich lunch (This used to be Colonial France for God’s sake) I moved onto the Opera House (A direct model on the Opera Garnier in Paris) and visited the mediocre Vietnam National History Museum. I eventually made my way to Hoa Lo Prison, aka “Hanoi Hilton,” which was less eerie then I’d anticipated but also educational. It was less educational because of the exhibits, but because of the psychology of the exhibits. Virtually the entire museum (in the old cells) is dedicated to the inhumane treatment of Vietnamese during their resistance to French colonialism, including the guillotine used on prisoners and the rough living conditions. This was contrasted against the extreme lengths the Vietnamese went to show how nicely they treated the American pilots held there during the Vietnam (American) War; including pictures of pilots decorating Christmas trees, playing basketball and enjoying a seemingly extravagant Christmas meal. All in all a fascinating visit, even though I was saddened to see half of the prison had been torn down to make way for a new high rise. The last tourist site I visited was St. Joseph’s Cathedral, the heart of Catholicism in Indochina during French rule. It was an odd site, surrounded by bustling Vietnamese mopeds and people.

I have been charmed by Hanoi so far. It is a whimsical place, with narrow streets lined with alternating shabby rowhouses and bright, almost Dutch-French inspired colonialist architecture next door. Crossing the street is a thrill. I know I wouldn’t be hit, but it seems like you’re darting by virtually every scooter and car in existence on some of the busier roads. There are also lots of street food stalls on one corner and modern, cafe style restaurants on the other. I got a snack from a bakery that was delicious, but then had great garlic beef with jasmine rice, fresh limeade, pineapple-caramel cake and a baileys on the rock for $14 for dinner. If the people and atmosphere don’t make you smile, the prices surely should.

Many of my friends arrive tomorrow and I am hopefully going to meet up with them, most likely to repeat my day I had today. I would normally be against this, but Hanoi doesn’t seem like a city that gets old nor should anyone come here expecting a Rome or a Beijing, with countless cultural landmarks. Hanoi is a place to grab a chair, order a beer and watch the world speed by on moped.