Hanoi: First Impressions

I'm taking my first sips of an Americano in a very Western coffee shop called "Highlands Coffee" on Xuan Dieu in Hanoi. I have a backlog of work, but I MUST get my first impressions of Hanoi down before they're lost forever.

It's overcast here. In part, it's the weather. It's also haze from moto exhaust and the countless roadside fires smoldering here and there for no apparent reason. The scooters are innumerable and jockey for position on Xuan Dieu alongside taxis, bicycles and carts peddled by old women wearing those rice paddy hats you see in movies. People avoid breathing in the haze by wearing scarves and face masks, but then take them off to breathe in cigarette smoke.

I rode a taxi from the airport last night. After haggling with the driver halfheartedly, we took off like a shot. This driver would give Italians pause. He leaned on his horn and flashed his high beams the whole way, laughing and talking and thumping his steering wheel in time to the American dance music pounding out of his speakers, weaving around trucks and scooters and even driving head-long into oncoming traffic at times. It was like having Jason Bourne for a cabbie. I discreetly reach for the seat belt. By the time we made it to my new neighborhood, I was ready to have a coronary. Then he slowed and got serious, studying the address I gave him and the street signs we passed. When he found my alley, he whooped and pointed and pounded my arm like we were old buddies. He then made a terrible mistake, misjudging the width of the alley and of his car, getting it stuck, scraping both doors and mangling his bumper. The poor guy was bereft. I gave him some extra money for his troubles, and shook hands with my new roommate, Luca, who was waiting for me at the door. I collapsed on my bed and -- after the adrenaline from the cab ride wore off -- fell into a deep sleep.

The coffee shop I'm sitting in is in a big new mall that wouldn't look out of place in the US. Christmas music blares from the speakers. Right next door is the "restaurant" where I had breakfast: my first real bowl of pho. I say "restaurant" because I almost didn't recognize it as such. It was really just a sort of lean-to built out of this and that with a corrugated tin roof and a sign out front that chirps "Cafe 29". Traffic whizzes by just outside. Under this flimsy shelter, a girl takes orders, a boy assembles the soup, and an old woman runs it out to patrons sitting on plastic lawn furniture. Looks like a family affair. I smile contentedly to myself as I drink in the scene and a cup of green tea -- finally, a new adventure! The soup arrives. It's much like the pho ga that I've known and loved in Seattle, except the chicken skin is left on, making it chewy and unpleasant. My search for a really good bowl of pho has only just begun.

Many Hanoians are dressed impeccably. Hair like in a Japanese anime cartoon. Fashionable designer jeans and flat, pointy, expensive-looking shoes, the kind you might find in a European boutique. And yet the streets are lined with garbage. The most picturesque ponds are sullied with rotting bicycle tires other detritus. I can only imagine what it would smell like in the heat and humidity typical of Hanoi's summers. Nobody seems to notice or care. It's hard to fathom.

Everything is under construction. Buildings being thrown up seemingly at random. The alleys are a maze around patchwork structures of all description. Bundles of low-strung power lines run every which way. Getting lost here is a given. I must keep my wits about me because my smart phone can't get me out of trouble here.

I got my first taste of Communism last night when I tried to log onto Facebook and found it was blocked by the government. I asked Sara, another new housemate. An Italian architect, she laughed about the government's halfhearted censorship, likening it to her own Italian government's lax law enforcement, in contrast with, say, China's. Sure enough, with a little poking, I too was able to find the holes in their firewall. LOL.

That's it for now. Stay tuned... pictures to come.