Oh Hanoi. How much you have to live up to. Will you compete with Hoi An? Will you really? Well…. maybe. Just.
Tom, Emma and I survived the 17 hour sleeper bus ride without any notable disruptions- Tom even said that it was the best bus ride for him yet. I slightly disagreed as I kept smacking my forehead against the window sill. On the way we stopped at what seemed to be a cross between a skanky roadside service station and a mosquito farm. I have never seen so many in my life clinging to the walls. Feeling itchy, and knowing that they were whispering to each other ‘look, here’s lunch’, I got back on the bus. I managed to get through the whole series of East Bound and Down during the trip-so that was good. Whenever the man in the next bunk looked over it seemed to be just as there was a gratuitous tit-shot though so it looked like I was watching a porno. ‘Those bloody tourists’ he thought as he stroked his hideously long nails. I also finished ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ which I can safely say is the best book I have read to date. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. It’s about 2 women’s stories in war-torn Afghanistan. I will never call a lady in a Burkha a ‘Ninja’ again. What an ignorant cock I can be.
We headed to the old quarter of Hanoi when we arrived- a network of busy streets named after the specific goods they predominately sell. I was staying on ‘Hang Ga’ meaning ‘Chicken Street’ Although I didn’t actually see any chickens. We got breakfast and a beer- the two seem to go hand in hand these days and wandered around soaking up the atmosphere.

In the afternoon, I put on some slightly more respectable clothes and took a cab to the Intercontinental Hanoi Westlake- a floating hotel on the river to the north of the city. Staying there was Lisa Simmons (a friend I have known since birth) and two of her friends through Barclays- Dee and Sheryl. They had a swanky suite and I spent the rest of the day pretending I was staying there- eating and drinking in the club lounge and enjoying the aircon. We drank cocktails in the sunset bar looking out across the river.

The next day at 8 we met to take a car to Halong Bay, 4 hours north. The girls had booked a one night boat trip out in the bay. I’d done some research before into prices and types of boat and it looked fun but maybe a little touristy and busy to be as relaxing as it promised. That would have been how it was if Sheryl had not booked possibly the most swanky boat in the bay. The Victory Star was like a floating 4* hotel. We had gorgeous rooms with balconies and the best shower since the Banyan Tree in Bangkok. The food was fresh seafood and the wine did not stop flowing. The boat had a spa and a fabulous top deck for doing nothing. Went to some ace caves, drank the boat bar dry of Balieys and put the world to rights. All three of the girls were so super generous to me and I am forever indebted for such a great few days.

Back in Hanoi city the girls shopped in the craft shops until they couldn’t fit any more in their cases and we went (reunited with Tom and Emma who had also been to Halong Bay in a slightly less swanky but just a fun boat) to the Green Tangerine which is a lovely courtyard restaurant that does crazy delicious food. I had tiny choux pastry buns with frozen parmesan cream surrounded by little dollops of onion chutney that looked like minute turds but did not taste like minute turds. And I have eaten minute turds before.

We then all parted company as Tom and Em went south back to Hoi An (Bastards!), the girls flew to Singapore and I went back to my dorm bunk. The following day I wandered the streets taking pictures of funny mannequins, sought out a recommended restaurant called 69 Cafe and wrote postcards by the lake. I found the Metropole hotel and snuck past reception on a mission to go upstairs and take pictures. It’s a very swanky old Colonial hotel and is beautiful. Trying to look inconspicuous and as if I was staying there, I sailed through the lobby and fell up the stairs causing everyone, staff and guests to rush to my aid. Red faced and cursing under my breath I was escorted up to my ‘room’ by a nice porter. I then had to lose him outside room 320 before he realised I had no key and was just an English idiot-head. When he had gone, all bows and politeness, I continued up to the next level, took a picture of the stairwell and legged it. I’m so cool.

I booked the hell bus to Laos for that afternoon. ‘20 hours I think Miss’ said the travel agent. ‘I thought it was 24?’ I replied. ‘Yes it’s more like 24′ he concluded.
Now I have read a lot of reports/blogposts/reviews of this trip from Hanoi across the border and into Laos. I know it’s a long time. I know I cannot afford to to the hour long flight. I know it will be uncomfortable. As long as I’m prepared, it can’t be that bad, right? Wrong.
5pm pick up from Hostel. (didn’t think I’d make it to bus station as crazy driver nearly killed me in traffic)
5.30pm get on bus (hustled to back of bus, told my big back would be strapped to top of bus)
5.45pm See out window of bus my bag being put in a different bus’s boot.
5.50 Bag now back in my buses’ boot.
6pm bus sets off, full. All seats taken. No more room.
Between 6pm and 1am we picked up 6 more people, 20 bags of rice that we were ushered out of our seats to accommodate beneath our feet, 6 garage doors that were hoisted onto the roof via bamboo sticks and rope, a crate of chickens, about 100 shirts on hangers and 2 massive rolls of shop shutters. People were sitting on boxes on seats, in the aisle and you were scared to get off at a stop incase when you came back your seat was full with something other than your arse. So I couldn’t put my legs down, I couldn’t put my seat back, the aircon above me was broken and fired a continuously targeted stream of freezing wind at my shoulder and the dvd played, at full volume, the most horrendous and weird live Vietnamese pantomime/singing/comedy show. All night and all the next day. It actually felt like a form of torture. The Asians can sleep anywhere, on anything. I’m not massively precious, but no amount of Tamazapan knocked me out. When one of the garage doors flew off the roof about 5am. I started to cry.

The Laos border was jolly and really cheered me up. We had to pay money to the border guards to leave Vietnam (not legal), money for the Laos visa; the amount of which seemed to be whatever the guards decided-I had to pay $35 but a pretty Japanese girl only paid $20 (I was pretty doped up to be honest with a crooked neck from the aircon. I wouldn’t have let me in at all) Then we had to pay ‘overtime money’ to the fat lazy unhelpful guards before they would give us our passports back.
We left the Laos border at 7am and got to Vientiane at about 6pm

Mission ACCOMPLISHED!!

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