North Vietnam - Hanoi - Day 3

A moment in time, Hanoi - 1981.

Making something out of nothing. Used plastic drink bottles
turned into a feature wall of planters. And leftover concrete
cubs used as pot-plants and shelving. 

The church bells reverberating our sleepy skeletons once again, had us on anxiety alert that the bells may go on for a while. To our relief, Tuesday morning’s church bell ring was much more reserved than its Monday grand performance. We eventually got up on our own accord and made our way up to breakfast on the 6^th floor. Sitting in the quaint little dining space as big as a bedroom, I could see outside the sliding window out onto their roof terrace  where the hotel grows their own vegetables and herbs. I looked further onto neighbouring roofs and saw almost every roof had their own veggie patch and water tank. Post-Vietnam war, the country had gone from starvation to second world country. The people had built their livelihoods on sustainability. Making something out of nothing is quite wabi-sabi, a true artist. This was somewhat inspiring to me – I had never thought much of where my drinking water comes from, or how and where the food I buy on supermarket shelving are cultivated. It is humbling to see these people were directly connected to their source of energy. There is something about growing food yourself that makes it so much more nutrient and healthier for you. No surprise to me, that my grandmother lasted 103 years and still had her wits to the end.

Peter and his new walking
shoes (and best friend).

This was our last day at Church Legend Hotel. We packed all our belongings to leave down at the lobby/luggage holding area as we were checking out. We met Thanh at the reception desk to organise payments for our stay here, and for our Sa Pa journey ahead. Thanh reminded us once again to be back at the hotel no later than 8:30pm this evening. Peter told Thanh he would make sure of it, knowing that I can sometimes lose track of time.

This time, we decided to head south of the Turtle Lake (Hoan Kiem Lake). It felt cruisier than its north. And on the southwest sat an open-air café overlooking the pretty lake. It was the first café in Vietnam I noticed had an espresso machine, it drew in the travellers. We didn’t try their coffee as my egg coffee experience yesterday at Café Giang had left me craving for more.

We continued walking along noticing the different vibe at this end of town. There were more metropolitan locals, it must be a corporate precinct. Peter mentioned he was on the lookout for a bookstore that shelved Vietnamese books and literature, translated to English. I mentioned it would be a good idea for Peter to find a shoe shop to purchase more comfortable footwear for the long walks we do.  

Walking past a corner shopping centre on Trang Tien Road, I was weighing up to, or not to take a look inside. I didn’t get the chance to make that decision, as the very next store with huge window display, were displaying books ! A lot of books. Peter disappeared into the aisles of Vietnamese/Hanoi history and culture. I went down the cookbook aisle, hoping to find a good Hanoian cookbook. And indeed I did. Not one for convention, I chose a Hanoi Street Food cookbook by Tom Vandenberghe, a Dutchman, not a local Vietnamese. His book presents very well with good details of recipes. A bonus, Tom talks about his travel experience with each dish, and furthermore, gives you details of where to eat, see, and do when you get the opportunity to visit Hanoi. As a reader, I feel a sense of sincerity, which is hard to find in most cookbooks these days.

Some books we purchased at a bookstore on Trang Tien road, Hanoi, Vietnam.

Peter emerged from the aisles very chuffed. Under his hands and arms were 6 books. A book called ‘Mountains and Ethnic Minorities: North West Viet Nam’, very handy in the coming days, as we travel to Sa Pa and Son La. A book about Hanoi city with a history of a thousand years ! Something I did not know. Going to Vietnamese school in my primary years, I did not pay any attention to my history and it’s richness. I had a young mindset that “West is best” and forget the rest...

My favourite book from Peter’s pick ‘Ha Noi, Mot Thoi’ is a black and white collection of photographs depicting Hanoi between 1980-1982. The title translate: A moment in time/history of Hanoi. I was born in 1981, on a fishing boat, fleeing Vietnam post-war. I look at these photos, seeing the people getting back to daily living. There is no sign of the decimation of war and/or from starvation that was happening under the newly unified government. I have yet to reconcile facts, information, and personal experience, as they seem to contradict each other.

I pulled out the local map and started planning our best route towards Café Giang. Ngo Quyen road was the obvious choice, linking us directly onto Ly Thai To road. The universe was smiling on Peter today, the next block north of the bookshop were rows of street traders selling shoes, wall high. It wasn’t easy finding shoes in size 42, as it is not common to find men of Peter’s statue in Vietnam, his shoe size is not the norm. You could see the traders’ eagerness to sell us men’s shoes were lacklustre. They would wave us off, as to convey they could not help. I had to change my Vietnamese buying tactics to a straight question, ‘do you have any men’s shoes in size 42?’ Thankfully, a corner shop had two styles in the size we were after. One of the two style fitted Peter’s practical needs (long walks, and potential hikes), the choice was made for him, at a satisfied price of VND180k (AUD10), thank you very much !

This would have to be my favourite Bun Cha eatery in Hanoi.

We had spent much time at the bookstore, and now at the great wall of shoe shopping strip, I was getting famished. No more gliding along, with Peter’s new kicks, we power-walked up Ly Thai To road, which then merged into Nguyen Huu Huan road, were egg coffee was waiting for us. Along Ly Thai To road, were plenty of Ca Phe (café/coffee shop) and food eateries, catered for the locals, many were busy. We halted at a corner restaurant on Hang Thung road. I chose this place for it brightness and cleanliness, and its reasonable price of VND30k (AUD1.80). Bun Cha (Bun = noodle, Cha = fried spring roll) seems to be the popular dish here in the North. Every eatery that we have ate at, have their specialty that makes them different to the other. Here their specialty is crab spring rolls (nem cua be).

The lady vendor showed us into the spacious dining area and asked me in Vietnamese if we were after the standard dish, I replied ‘yes, two portions please’. We’ve had delicious bun cha the days before, and this eatery did not disappoint, it had created a new benchmark. I hoovered down my plate in minutes and went onto Peter’s share. I am a hungry little person, with no awareness of food etiquette. My stomach rules my head. I do need to be fed well [laugh].

Bun Cha - before.

Bun Cha - after.

The young man grilling chicken sticks was self-conscious, knowing I was recording him. It is with awe that he is cooking from a grill that is put together with items that I wouldn’t see in a kitchen back home. Their improvisation is creative, resourceful, sustainable and on the cheap.

Back at Café Giang, assuming the elderly gentleman sitting at the cashier was the owner, Mr Giang. The café was busy, but I hope for a chance to have a chat with him. He told me to go have our coffee first, and later we could talk. Happy he agreed, we climbed up the stairs where the waiter found us a corner table right at the back. Today’s egg coffee was just as how I remembered it yesterday, my tiny receptors on my tongue all dancing away in an egg coffee Milkyway. This place is constantly busy. It was difficult to get a good chat in with the owner, whilst him still attending payments from his customers. When I finally did, the elderly gentleman corrected me, he was not Mr Giang, but Mr Giang’s son Mr Dao. Mr Dao has continued the family business that his father established in 1964, that’s 54 years! I wanted to know more about 1964, it was the peak of the Vietnam War, 10 years since the civil divide. I can only assume Café Giang was one of those places people could escape the daily horrors, and enjoy the simple things in life. 

Banyan Tree aka Bodhi or Ficus Tree.

Leaving the café, we strolled over the north part of the Turtle Lake and ended up in Hang Gai road. I just love how nature and domestication can co-exist. Nature was here first, then humans build on top, only for nature to outgrow human endeavours. And the results are quite beautiful. This Banyan tree rises from the earth with twists and knobs that resemble monkeys climbing about. This tree is also known as Ficus, or well known as Bodhi tree. The name Bodhi came about when Siddhartha Gautama sat under a Banyan tree and found enlightenment. Bodhi closest English translation is “awakening”. It’s no surprise Buddhism is a prominent faith in Vietnam, with Bodhi trees everywhere throughout the country, and through Asia.

St. Joseph's Cathedral, Hanoi.

Talking about faith, Peter reminded me, we should go check out the big Church that is on our hotel’s doorstep before we leave tonight. The entrance to St Joseph's Cathedral (Nha Tho Lon) is to the left of the wrought fence. Up the steps and through the side door, not the main front door. Once you enter, you notice the silence and you quickly become aware of the slightest sound you make. Peter wandered off. And I found my quiet bench amongst other visitors. A moment of solitude within myself. St Joseph’s Church was built in 1886, a Neo-Gothic style resembling the Notre Dame de Paris, not as grand, yet still beautiful and charming. My Mum, a devout Catholic would be pleased to know I was sitting in a Church.

After resting back at Church Legend Hotel, and getting little bits and bobs ready for our journey ahead. We headed out to find dinner just past 6 o’clock. We went down Au Trieu road, the “back, back” streets away from the touristy area, an honest representation of how majority of the local people live. Around the bend, the road turned into Phu Doan was eatery after eatery for the local people at local price. We walked out onto Hang Bong road, a main road. There were one or two western travellers wandering through, but this area is not a tourist attraction.

Walking along peering through eateries, seeing what would tickle our fancy. And wow! A woman serving up Pho on the street pavement, with all her delicacies on full display, her food was down my stomach’s alley. Looking at how her customers were hoovering her Pho down, I knew it had to be good. Carried away with my excitement, I pulled out my camera and started to video record what I was seeing in front of me. This need to capture this moment, rather than be in the moment. When the lady looked up to see herself being recording, she bid me ‘no!’ I apologised. However, too embarrassed to now sit down to eat her food.

Tail between my legs, we walked on and found this eatery close by serving Bun Rieu and Pho. Looking around, almost every patron had a chicken rice dish, which looked to be Com Ga Hai Nam. There are many variations of this dish, many may know it as Hainan Chicken, or Steamed Lemongrass Chicken.  This chicken rice dish was not printed on the price board, strange I thought, maybe it was “gotta be local to know” kinda thing at this place.

Bun Rieu with native lemons.

I chose Bun Rieu, one I was craving it and second I hadn’t had one in Vietnam yet and wanted to compare Mum’s version. I suggested to Peter to try the Chicken Rice, but he was stuck on Pho since seeing it on the street just moments ago. The Pho came out piping hot with it condiments. Peter took a lemon that looked more like lime, but a size of a kumquat and squeezed its juice directly into his Pho bowl. A gentleman sitting opposite us eating his chicken dish said to me in Vietnamese that Mr white man should squeeze the lemon into a spoon first to avoid the seeds. I asked ‘why?’, and he answered because the boiling water extracts the bitterness of the seeds making the Pho not nice to eat. Peter and I learnt something new tonight.

Arriving back at Church Legend Hotel just after 8pm, it didn’t take long for the hotel’s driver to pick us up. The driver knew exactly what to do with us and our baggage. We were driven to Ha Noi Railway Station on Le Duan road. There were a lot of people at the station catching the same train toward Sa Pa. Peter and I were just getting out of the car, our driver, speedy Gonzales had our two heavy backpacks in both hands rushing and dodging through the crowd. Our driver kept looking back to make sure we were in sight. We barely kept up with him. Power walking on the train tracks, I was nervous of the lack of safety provisions. I realised that the train carriages did not belong to one company, but multiple. Our carriage, the King Express was one of the last few. Our driver stepped into the carriage with our luggage and waved us to climb on board. He had dropped us right into out sleeper room. What a service! He waited for the train conductor to come through to show our documents. He left immediately after the conductor gave her approval.

Our sleeper bunker was quaint, it had a lovely old-fashion vibe. And pleased it was clean. Loved the photos of yesteryear on our cabin room wall. These photos continued out in the carriage’s corridor. I caught the happy and excited bug once again. Peter strolled up and down the corridor to find the essentials i.e. toilets. It was late. We started to wind down and unpacks toiletries, charge our devices, and take out extra clothing we may need during our transit. Peter thoughtfully handed over his newly acquired book about mountains and ethnic minorities, in case I was not familiar with their customs.

We were hopeful that we had the whole cabin to ourselves, so we could spread out and I could sleep on the lower bunk bed. It wasn’t to be, a couple entered our cabin just moments before departure. The couple were young, possibly in their late 20’s or early 30’s. I was embarrassed to ask for their age, as it is considered rude and mortifying to ask in Australia. Though it is actually very reasonable and expected in the Vietnamese culture because Vietnamese people have a lot of respect for their elders and/or people with importance. Hence asking for a person’s age allows people to know the appropriate title to address each other. For example, if a woman is older than you but younger than your parents you would address them as “Co”, which translates to Miss. A man in the same situation would be called “Chu”. If a woman or man is older than your parents, then you would address them both as “Bac”. Old as your grandparents, then with the utmost respect, the woman should be addressed as “Ba”, and the man “Ong”. Ba in English translation is woman, and Ong is man, however, the English language does not do these titles justice. Vietnamese sentiment for “Ong Ba”, is that they have fulfilled a lifetime and have become whole as a woman, or man. Almost like calling them a mensch.

King Express carriage corridor.

The locomotion of the train made me fall asleep in no time. I woke up busting to go to the toilet in the middle of the night. I tried to hold on as long as I could. Going to the toilet on a moving plane, or train is one of my cringes. Half asleep I zombie-walked to the end of the carriage to the toilet. I got inside and locked the door, and did my business. Flushed the toilet, wiped down my hands with wet-wipes. I went to unlock the door…it wouldn’t. I tried harder, still wouldn’t unlock. I shook myself out of my slumber to focus because it must be me who’s the problem. Observing the lock carefully to see how it should unlock seemed simple, you turn the lever over and it should drop allowing the sliding door to slide open. Five minutes way by. Ten minutes way by. I thought, ‘this is it, I’m trap in this moving toilet until the next person wakes up to go.’ This is my worst nightmare! I started to panic. I began banging on the toilet door and screaming out for help! Finally, the carriage conductor woke from her sleep to hear my distress. In seconds, she managed to unlock and slide the door open from the outside. Forgetting to say ‘thank you’, I bolted back to my cabin almost in tears yet so relieved. Peter was up when I got back. He asked what took me so long. Upset, I mumbled under my breath that I got locked in the toilet. Without further explanation, I climbed up to my bunk bed to sleep off my ordeal.

Can’t wait to arrive in Sa Pa.

Please continue being part of the journey by clicking North Vietnam - SaPa Day 4

Or you can start from the beginning by clicking North Vietnam - Hanoi Day 1 

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