Yesterday we wandered from over the top shopping malls past beggars with suppurating wounds. It seemed like the city was only half alive, a slow sunday waiting for New Years Eve. We had lunch at Cabbages and Condoms, a restaurant that does AIDS outreach and family planning in Bangkok, the idea is to make condoms as easy to get at the market as a cabbage.
Back to the hotel to pick up our bags, and a quick stickybeak at the rooftop garden, where I saw possibly the saddest bird I have ever seen. The birds where in cages not much larger than a refrigerator, with no mental stimulation. There was an African Grey Parrot (very smart birds, about the same mental ability as a human toddler) with one blind eye, clearly showing signs on insanity.
The hotel found us a cab to get the airport, we drove past more and more huge billboard tributes to the king, and testaments to his good works. Earlier at the posh department stores we had seen the special Edition “Kings iPod”, which has his symbol engraved on the back, and on a special case. We ate mangosteens from the market just before customs (my favourite fruit in the known universe, and almost impossible to get in Sydney), and had an uneventful flight to Hanoi.
The first thing we saw as we stepped off the plane into the corridor was an immigration official in the dark green of a cartoon communist, complete with hat, and epaulettes with stars on them. I’ve not travelled in a communist country before, and didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. More dark green at the immigration counter and customs, and then out to meet the driver from the hotel.
Who wasn’t there. No guy with a sign with my name on it. I pulled out my laptop to check the reservation, in which Mr Trung says “we will see you on the 31st”, but not explicitly “we will see you at the airport”, so I figure we’ll just get a cab to the city, and find the hotel. I changed some money into Dong, and chatted up a lovely Irish backpacker at the currency exchange counter, who agreed to share a taxi with us to the city. He was going to a hotel in the Old Quarter, and I couldn’t find the address of our hotel so we just went to his, and figured we’d find the Sunny Hotel when we got to the Old Quarter.
We said goodbye to Paul (a law student living in Melbourne for a year), and set off to find an internet cafe to get the address of the Sunny Hotel, when Mark discovered that he had left his man bag in the taxi. Including his iPod, my noise canceling headphones, and new camera. Mercifully his wallet and credit cards were in his pocket, but it was a rude start.
We went in to Paul’s hotel, and spoke to the very helpful guy at the desk. He allowed us to use the lobby internet to get the address, gave us a map to get to the Sunny, and suggested we ask them to call the taxi company. He seemed to have this strange idea that the cab driver would return the bag.
At this point I should mention that Hanoi traffic is absolutely insane. We were on a narrow lane, with barely room for three people to walk abreast on the street, and there are cars, and motorbikes, all with horns blaring, and people sitting eating and drinking on footpaths, kids playing in the street, chaos. We only had to go about 700 meters, but with heavy bags, overtired, and a little bit dazed and confused, it was a little more harrowing than I would have liked.
We made it to the Sunny, and the guys behind the counter gave me a blank look when I claimed to have a reservation. I showed them the email, but apparently Mr Trung doesn’t work there, and they had no rooms left. It was at this point that my equanimity was severely tested. Thank god for Mark, who took the opportunity to DEAL WITH IT, while I got out my knitting, and started muttering to myself that I was NOT going to have a holiday from hell, this was just a hiccup, and it would all be sorted out shortly so we could enjoy watching the clock ticking over past midnight into a bright new year.
And it did.
The guys at the Sunny were wonderful. They called all three taxi companies (after Mark drew a picture of the taxi we were in), and found us a hotel. While we were waiting for a cab to take us to the hotel, the call came in that the bag had been found, and could be collected from the Sunny in the morning.
We went around the lake to get from the top of the lake to the top of the lake, and I strongly suspected that the taxi driver was ripping us off, but I was so happy to be going to a hotel (any hotel), and the promise of a door to lock my bag behind was more than my bad mood could take, and when we drove past the lake and saw the Jade Mountain Temple in the middle, all lit up, I was positively beaming.
The Prince Hotel is a little shabby, with a spiral staircase up two flights to a high ceilinged, marble floored room and french doors leading out to a little balcony overlooking the (very noisy) street. We dumped our bags and headed out for beer. Found an intersection with a Beer Hoi shop on each of four corners – tiny plastic stools creeping out into the traffic, and freshly brewed beer in a clear glass for about 16c each.
At 11:40pm, they stopped serving beer, and started chasing customers away. We were bemused, but not alarmed until about six green uniform guys piled out of a van, mostly with bright red and white stripped truncheons, but one with an electric stun gun thing. I know it was a stun gun because it was charged, and sparks were flying off it as he waved it about.
Tourists stood about taking pictures and even having their pictures taken with the goombas, and my day had reached a new height of surreality. Remember if you will that at this point I’ve slept approximately 4-5 hours in the last 48. My appetite for challenges is pretty high, and my ability to adapt and thrive in a challenging situation is something I’m quite proud of. But the stun gun did freak me out a little bit.
We wandered off to the lake for the “big event”. There were ballerinas, there were pop groups, there were fireworks, streamers and glitter, and even a hard rock version of Auld Lang Syne.
Happy New Year Hanoi.
Artwork in the Ambassador Hotel lobby – an auspicious start to our journey…
Disco Knitter 