| All a bit French I reckon. Posted Tuesday, 30 May 2006 | ||
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| Me and Wend were incredibly wary of going to Vietnam. We had heard tales of how hassly it was, that the people were unfriendly and they just saw you as a walking wallet. So wary were we almost decided to skip the north completely and stay in the comfy duvet which is Laos. But we thought we should face it off and if it was that bad we'd skip back into Laos halfway down the country - that's the beauty of travelling really - you can go where you want. So we headed off from Vientaine Airport on the rather good Vietnam Airlines. We'd booked a place ahead to save the trouble of roaming a teeming city with backpacks and convineantly they offered a free airport pick up. So there waiting for us, like we were important or something, was a taxi driver with a sign saying 'Benedict Brook' (secretly, I've always wanted someone waiting at arrivals with one of those signs!) We jumped in the back of a plush Toyota and zoomed down the motorway - this was a whole different kettle of fish to Laos. Alongside the motorway were huge neon signs for Honda, Sunsilk shampoo and Prudential insurance. An hour, and a lot of crazy driving, mad motorcyclists and honking of horns later, we arrived at our hotel which was just across the road from a chicken noodle soup stall which meant dinner was sorted. We splashed out for the hotel (a whole fiver between us) but the difference in facilities between here and Laos and Thailand was amazing. We had free internet, air-con, satellite TV, bathroom and a minibar for goddsake in a bijou art-deco hotel. One night we just stayed in and indulged ourselves with the Star Movies channel and cans of minibar Tiger beer. As Yazz once said "The only way is up" and so far Vietnam was confounding my rock-bottom expectations. Not that there's not an element of truth to the rumours - it is hassly, people do approach you to sell you postcards or get a cyclo ride or be weighed (Wendy calls these weighing contraptions 'Hell machines"). And they do rip you off. In Thailand they try and rip you off, in Laos they seem to be too good-herated to take your money but here they are just bare faced at overcharging you. A bottleof water should cost about 3,000 dong (10p) but we started off paying 10,000 dong cos we knew no better. But once you get into the swing of it you just haggle and see how far you get. Sometimes not far but a little Vietnamese goes a long way and they always seemed to have a laugh with us. At at the end of the day even being ripped off in Vietnamese terms is still a bargain in English money. On our second night there an old guy in a doorway motioned us over. We scanned the scene - he appered to have nothing to sell - so we sat down with him. His English was very passable and he was keen to not only test it out on us but to learn it with an English accnet. So we told him the days of the week in our best London accent. Then he would form sentances where every word sounded like a Vietnamese speaking English apart from 'Saturday' which was pure North London. He told us he first became fascinated by English when the Paris peace accords were being signed which effectively ended the Vietnam War (called the Americn War here by many) and gave the North Vietnamese communists the south. Our guy told us that he saw Henry Kissinger speak on the news and thought he was so gentlemanly and his language sounded so good that he should learn it. So at the very moment of North Vietnamese victory over the American oppresor this guy decided he loved English spoken by a yank. Our street side bloke imported shoes from China and smoked a very big pipe. He taught us some Vietnames phrases I've still been using to great effect thoughout the country such as : "Hum Kam Ern" which means "No Thank You". But as you say it Vietnamese even the hassly cyclo drivers smile back and wave you on when you refuse there offer of paying an extorniate amount of cash to be peddled through scooter choked streets. Hanoi is a beautiful city. The centre is like a huge chunk of Paris has been plomped in South East Asia. Beautiful buildings on tree-lined narrow streets. Every street has a trade. Ours was Hang Ga which meant Chicken Street. Elsewherhe there were streets which sold just shoes, or gravestones, or heating ducts or sellotape. In the centre of the city are various lakes where Vietnamese couples go down to at dusk to hold hands and look longingly at each other. One balmy night we were drinking Bia Hoi - draught lager which wasd introduced by the Czechs about thirty years back. You sit on a little plastic stool on a street corner and an old lady pours it out for you. And it only costs 10p a glass. But befitting the Vietnameses incredibly capitalist streak when I gave her 10 times the cost by accident she gratefully pocketed it. Later we retired to an expat bar where we bumped into Collette - an editor of the English section of the national Radio Voice of Vietnam. She told us all the lowdown on Hanoi and loved our rather base sense of humour. So much so, she invited us out for dinner. A few nights later we ate with her at a really cool restaurant and drank cheap cocktails until the wee hours. Unlike Gary from Vang Vieng some people you meet are really very cool. So far from being the hellish place I feared Vietnam is shaping up to be one of the most exciting countries I've visited so far. Wendy and Ben's in-word of the week: SST- Stupid Tourist Tax: The silly amounts of money you pay out for things the first few days you are in a new country because you know not what anything should really cost. Witness us paying 3.50 for a cyclo ride which should have cost 1 pound tops. | ||
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