Hanoi

 Hanoi Day One: A Symphony of Functional Chaos

Chaos – or better yet, functional chaos – is the best way to describe our midday stroll through Hanoi while waiting for hotel check-in. I was grinning ear to ear the whole time. The city pulses with life. With an estimated eight million residents packed tightly into its limits, Hanoi is a marvel of movement and energy.  And you can see some of it with these photos.

What we think of as sidewalks are actually scooter parking lots. Scooters dominate the streets, carrying everything from families of five to building materials and all manner of personal and business cargo. Aside from the largest boulevards, every street is shared by pedestrians and vehicles alike. Street signs? Decorative at best. Crosswalks and pedestrian lights are rare — and unnecessary. People simply walk into traffic with a hand up, trusting that drivers will brake or swerve. Mostly, they swerve and honk. If you hesitate and a scooter also stops short, you're met with a smile and a wave to continue.

The cacophony of horns is relentless — cars, scooters, trucks — a constant soundtrack. Writing part of this from my fifth-floor hotel room, I heard one every two or three seconds until about 9:30 p.m., when the city seems to politely acknowledge that some might want to sleep. I imagine locals pulling into workshops and asking the mechanic to “change the horn and check the oil.”

We ended our first day with a wonderful meal, followed by an hour of storytelling at the hotel’s rooftop bar. That night, I had the best sleep I’ve had in nearly eight months.

 Day Two: Temples, Traffic, and Tomatoes

Our second day tour exceeded expectations — even our guide’s. We began at the Temple of Literature, a former Confucian academy. The photos say it all: joyful crowds of school-age kids celebrating graduations of sorts. A group of teens greeted me with a friendly “hello,” and when I smiled back (I’d been grinning since entering), they asked for a photo. I happily obliged. One of the women in our group laughed and said they probably liked the European old guy with white hair — and pointed out another of us with even whiter hair who was also roped in. Some of you may have heard my laugh from there.

Wandering through the complex, we came upon a Confucian ceremony. Our guide gave a long-winded explanation, but most of us just soaked in the dignified formality of the participants, the loud music, chants, and drums without worrying too much about the details. Sorry, guide.

Next came a surprise: a cooking school. Me – cooking? But first, we had to get there. Day two introduced us to a Hanoi-style traffic jam. Four-wheeled vehicles were mostly stopped or crawling for over an hour to cover what should’ve taken 10–20 minutes. Scooters? They simply slowed down and weaved through any available gap, an endless stream making sharp right turns between our bus and the truck ahead. We were on an on-ramp to a highway — which I only realized after thousands of scooters streamed down it in the wrong direction, including a mini-tank truck somehow making a U-turn. How it managed remains a mystery.

The family-run cooking school, once a restaurant, now hosts tourists — and probably enjoys it more. My culinary English is shaky, and translation via German didn’t help. We attempted to make a paper-thin crepe-like wrap, which proved difficult even for the seasoned cooks among us. Decorative tomato and cucumber carving was fascinating, though I failed miserably at cutting a semi fleur-de-lis. I did successfully batter the fish and then took on the role of cheerleader. We placed second, and the kitchen served up plenty of excellent food. Afterwards, we toured their garden and family altar, learning about their traditions — a lovely experience.

Several of us skipped the tour of Ho Chi Minh’s home and instead wandered around one of Hanoi’s lakes.  Finding a floating café and decided to stop.  My attempts to order were, eventually, marginally successful and the coffee … well it was a nice break. Another delightful evening at the rooftop bar followed. But this morning on day 3, jet lag caught up with me. It’s 5 a.m. local time, and we need to be checked out by 8 to head to the next hotel and the next adventure.

More later.