Everyone’s favourite spot: Hanoi

Sounds of traffic, cussing motorists, and blaring car horns. 

I struggled to stay calm as my driver switched gears on his manual stick shift, deftly avoiding a steady stream of motorbikes, rickshaws, and buses that bore down at us at a four-way intersection.

Seconds later, I was watching road rage unfold between three motorcyclists; one of them ended up with a bleeding face and shirt soaked with blood.

Robin Williams’ playful ramble in the 1980s classic, Good Morning Vietnam, came to mind. It starts with: “Viva Da Nang, oh, Viva Da Nang…Da Nang me, Da Nang me, why don’t you get a rope and hang me?”

Simply put – be prepared for chaos when you visit Vietnam.

I was in the ancient capital of Hanoi.

Nestled at the intersection where the biggest rivers of Northern Vietnam meet, Hanoi is, in real estate terms, a prime location for development. The first signs of human activity here date back to 3,000 BC. Hanoi’s strategic position is evident in the countless rulers who’ve made it their seat of power throughout the ages, serving as a socio-political and economic hub of various dynasties.

But I remained hopeful despite the Vietnamese’s indifference towards law and order. I was eager to explore the culture of a nation so rich yet subdued.

Every local I spoke to seemed to be in good spirits due to the upcoming Tet Holiday. The annual festival is the same as the Lunar New Year celebrated by the Chinese. Most of Hanoi’s inhabitants will be headed back to their villages for celebrations, leaving the city relatively quiet and dead for a week.

“Your timing is just right. A few days later and you’ll be visiting a ghost town,” says Thach Huong, a Vietnamese whom my friends and I met at a four-storey cafe overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake. “Most of us grew up in villages around Northern Vietnam. We’re only in Hanoi for work.”

Thach Huong and her friend Trang were catching up over egg coffee while enjoying breathtaking views of the Hoan Kiem Lake. We had conversations about life in general, laughing at the differences and strange similarities we found in each others’ cultures.

Beneath the gentle demeanour of every Vietnamese you meet lies an individual strong and proud of his heritage. The country has after all, been ravaged by wars and powerful empires, among them the Nyugens, Trinhs, Chinese, and French.

“We all find ways to make a living here. Most of us earn from tourism,” says Kevin, caretaker of the three-storey shophouse that my friends and I were staying in the Old Quarter.

At 23 years old, Kevin’s enterprising spirit puts me to shame. He oversaw the interior renovation of his aunt’s home, converting it into a pleasing apartment for travellers. Unlike the facade of the building, Kevin’s apartment was well-taken care of, modern and chic, which made us feel comfortable and safe.

The 2,000-year-old Old Quarter is a Unesco World Heritage site that is the focal point of Hanoi’s commerce and social activity. Its vibrancy is the reason why it’s called the heart of Hanoi.

Despite its chaos, the Old Quarter is worth a few days’ visit. Its colourful appeal stems from the antiquated French-Indochina architecture and variety of businesses that flourish here. Much of this charm has worn off in light of the modernity and tourism that has found its way into the lives of the Vietnamese.

Scattered along the streets of the exotic Old Quarter were all manner of trash, repeatedly flattened by the tyres and feet of locals hustling from one place to another. The area is made up of a mind-boggling spread of 36 interlinked streets, each named after a particular trade. Craftsmen throughout Northern Vietnam would settle here to trade their goods, forming guilds according to their area of speciality. On the weekends, the banks of Hoan Kiem Lake would be crowded with groups of locals dancing, drinking, eating, and making merry until late at night.

On the surface, it can be puzzling to observe how the Vietnamese – with a history as multifaceted and tumultuous as the Chinese – can be so muted when it comes to affairs on the international stage. Even so, strike up a conversation with any local and you’ll get a sense of the pride they have of their origins and country’s founders.

Two places of interest that helped me understand this better were the Ho Chin Minh Museum and Hoa Lo Prison.

Gone, not forgotten

Ho Chi Minh Museum memorialises the Vietnamese’s struggle in their fight for independence, paying tribute to the nation’s hero, Ho Chi Minh. Photos and documents line the museum walls, highlighting every accolade that Ho Chi Minh accomplished, as well as the exploits of other notable leaders of the August Revolution and the Vietnam War; among them Phan Chu Trinh and Vo Nguyen Giap.

Not much of Hoa Lo Prison remains today – a good part of it has been torn down to make way for a service apartment. But there is enough in what’s left of the dungeon for one to glimpse into the brutality that existed during the French colonial rule. Back in the day, Hoa Lo Prison was a maximum security penitentiary that was, by 19th century standards, impossible to escape from. This record was broken decades later when four prisoners (leading figures in Communist North Vietnam) managed to sneak out of the prison’s sewage pipes – Andy Dufresne-style in The Shawshank Redemption. These escapees went on to lead the Vietnamese to victory over the French in the climatic Battle of Dien Bien Phu.

And the story gets better. In the years leading up to the end of the Vietnam War, Hoa Lo Prison was nicknamed “Hanoi Hilton”, for being the holding place for American POWs who, unlike the prison’s previous inhabitants, were well taken care of up till their eventual release after the war.

My next stop after Hoa Lo Prison was Vietnam’s first national university, the Temple of Literature. But the compound was closed by the time I reached it at dusk. Having a chance to visit this place is a happy excuse I’d make to visit Hanoi again. I was scheduled to head to Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba Island the next day; stories which I will write about in a part two to my Vietnamese experience.

There were other things I did in Hanoi of course, such as trying out all sorts of local Northern Vietnamese cuisine. Not just the quintessential Vietnamese delicacy like Bun Cha and Pho, but other lesser known and equally delicious ones like the Bun dau mam tom (vermicelli served with tofu and shrimp paste), Pho cuon (rolled noodles), and Mien Xao Luon (Noodles with Deep-Fried Eel). More of this in another story.

All-in-all, Hanoi turned out to be a great experience. When I think of it now, I don’t remember the crazy traffic and road rage. I remember the Hanoians, their unyielding spirit, and the conversations I had with them as if it were yesterday.