Hanoi was overwhelming, the sounds, the smells, the rain, the heat, the traffic. When I was researching Vietnam, I often read about HCMC being unfriendly to walkers but that was nothing compared to Hanoi, where the pavements would just run out and we'd be walking down the roads with the scooters and cars and rickshaws all pushing by. From our airbnb on the edge of old town, nestled high up in a residential apartment block, just one street away from the fancy area of town we still couldn't really escape from the city's noise. I felt over-stimulated and frankly a bit anxious presented with this mass of humanity after the peace of the countryside we'd just come from, but that wasn't going to stop us from exploring.
Once we were settled in we only had one real objective for the afternoon: a walk around the old quarter and grabbing a bite to eat. We'd already chosen where we were planning to dine, Banh Mi 25, a traditional Vietnamese sandwich shop that often tops the list on Google as the best banh mi in Hanoi. When we arrived it was heaving, the whole street was covered in tiny stools and tables, all filled with people (mainly tourists) happily chowing down. We jumped in the queue and before we'd really had time to read the menu it was time to order, the people behind us already building up. Luckily, just after we ordered a small table became available and we quickly rushed to sit before anyone else noticed it. The banh mi were good, with crunchy bread, well balanced flavours and enough herbs and sauces...I just think the fillings could have been a bit more generous.
From here we continued our wanderings, passings streets of clothes shops, and streets of cookware, and streets filled with everything in-between. We eventually came out on the edge of the old quarter nearest to the famous train street. While making our way to an entrance, we admired the series of railway arches that had been turned into art murals along Phung Hung Street. Created in 2018, the murals focus on art depicting scenes from Hanoi's past.
Although we had no intention on actually visiting train street right then, we wanted to pop by to get a lay of the land. From what I could see online a train wasn't due any time soon - seeing train street without the train passing wouldn't really be the full experience - so we planned on coming back the next night.
Before we could decide what to do next it started to rain. Not a small drizzle or a gentle shower, this was intense, the monsoon had decided to pop in for an early visit and it was absolutely bucketing it down. For a communist country they sure did turn capitalist as soon as it started to rain, with the demand for taxis skyrocketing all grab (Asian Uber) drivers refused any small journeys, taking advantage of the situation to make a few extra bucks. Being only a kilometre or so from our accommodation, we were completely screwed. We waited out the rain under the awning of a small dingy rail-side shop with the owner demanding we sit and buy something until we finally caved. Once the rain started to subside we made a break for it, starting on the journey back and only getting a little wet.
Thinking the rain had stopped we headed out on foot to find a place to eat dinner, luckily finding somewhere only a few streets away. The food was delicious. The street filling up with rain outside however, was concerning, the locals must have thought so too as people waded out in thigh deep water to move their scooters to sightly less flooded spots. We eked out our dining experience for as long as we could but eventually it was time to leave, and being only a few streets away there no chance in hell a taxi would be taking us. In reality it didn't matter, we were soaked as soon as we stepped out the door, looking well and truly drowned by the time we made it home for the night.
We started off our day of exploration at The Ho lo Prison Relic, a former french colonial prison turned museum. It mainly focused on the lives of prisoners or "comrades" that suffered in the prison under the french rule and the later treatment of American prisoners of war who were incarcerated there. As I made my way through the exhibits, reading the signs and looking around this former prison, I started to distrust the information I was being fed and this was a first for me. I've never really doubted what i've read in a museum, knowing that occasionally there might be a spin on the information, but trusting that the main story was true.
Here I called Bullshit. Never had I encountered a place so rammed with propaganda and bias. Oh, I don't doubt at all that conditions for Vietnamese prisoners under colonial rule were horrible and often ended with death either from mistreatment or from capital punishment. I'm sure from the mid 1800's to the mid 1900's there was high mortality rate in all french controlled prisons including the ones in France. I also don't contest the narrative that many of the prisoners were the "good guys", only in prison for rebelling against their country being under foreign rule and wanting change.
What I don't believe was the supposed treatment of the American Prisoners of War. If I were to believe what I learned whilst visiting this museum, I would have left it believing that the American's incarcerated there were treated fairly. There was images of them playing cards, playing games, smiling. Yes they were kind of thin and their eyes appeared flat, but the informational plaques clearly told me that they were grateful that they got to stay in such a lovely and not at all hellish place. According to this website about POW in Vietnam, I was being fed a lie and there was a strict communication ban between prisoners, and malnutrition and torture was a part of daily life there.
Moving on we headed to the Imperial Citadel of Thang Long, a sprawling site that on first glance seemed a bit underwhelming. Walking through a vast field, we reached an imposing gatehouse which we immediately climbed to get a view from the top. From our vantage we couldn't really see any other buildings in a similar architectural style, so we assumed that this was the extent of the citadel. After further exploration, we came across buildings housing museum exhibits, and unassuming modern buildings that once served as the HQ for Ho Chi Minh's Government. Delving deeper, we uncovered not just one, but two bunkers beneath the buildings, prepared for the Indochina Communist Party to strategise from in case of an attack. Included in our ticket was entrance to a lack-luster and uninformative archaeological site across the road, which we visited but found un-noteworthy (aside from the vast collection of bonsai trees!).
Feeling the need for a pick-me-up, our next stop was to sample one of Hanoi's distinctive beverages. So, we hopped in a taxi to take us across town to Café Giàng, renowned as the birthplace of egg coffee. This unique concoction is essentially a normal shot of coffee topped with a custard that is made from whisking together eggs and condensed milk - not exactly my cup of tea but it needed to be tried. The entrance to Cafe Giang was unassuming, a small doorway partially blocked by people fixing scooters on the pavement, leading to a bland alleyway. The cafe itself was very traditional with tiny wooden stools parked round almost unusably small wooden tables. Both Mum and Ben ordered an egg coffee and whilst neither of them actually enjoyed it as a whole, Mum at least thought the custard portion of it was pretty decent. I did try a sip and as I suspected, I thought it was pretty foul.
The last activity we had planned for Hanoi was a visit to Train street, and to make sure we didn't miss the train, we arrived there at 6pm (an hour before the train was supposed to arrive). It wasn't as strict as I had been led to believe, all the articles I had read during research said that visitors were no longer able to wander along but had to be escorted by a local. This wasn't the case for us, but maybe as we were visiting during the shoulder season it just wasn't busy enough to warrant those measures. Saying that, once we had picked our spot, it soon seemed to fill up. Train street is a strange concept to me. Throughout my life, I have seen trains go by numerous times, and it never sparked any excitement in me. However, for some reason (probably that I was sitting in a slab of concrete masquerading as a bar next to train tracks) this was supposed to be different.
In all honesty, I doubt I was masking my apathy towards the whole situation that well, but my mum was very excited about the experience so I was trying to get into the spirit. Sitting there, bad music blazing, a horror inspired toilet just feet away, I was struggling. Then, the whistle blew, the music turned down low and a sense of excitement filled the air. Despite my reluctance, the excitement infected me too. Our bar owner, like others up and down train street started to rearrange us, making sure we were in a safe position for the train to pass. Cameras were pulled out, everyone was ready.
Then the train arrived.
It chugged it's way noisily and slowly down the tracks, we could see the front of it getting ever closer, then it was passing us just a few feet away... but wait, where was the rest of the train?! Is it even classed as a train if it's only the locomotive part of the train and none of the carriages?
After a wait of an hour, it was all over. Or so we thought. As we reached the end of the train street, where we could rejoin the rest of the city, the whistle sounded again. We thought it would be fine for us to stand tucked away along a wall but we were soon told off and quickly escorted to the main street and behind the barrier. Mum, wanting a good view leaned across the barrier and was promptly told off. Eventually, another single locomotive passed and our train street experience was over.
After a cheeky pizza at an amazing Pizzeria (Pizza Belga) we had a walk around Hoan Kiem Lake, taking in the atmosphere before we headed home for the night. It was time to re-pack our bags, getting ourselves ready to head off to Cat Ba Island the next morning. Our time in Hanoi was over, for now.
Trip date : May 2024
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