The streets of Hanoi are organized chaos. Think Blade Runner meets Fast and Furious set in a glitzy casino, and you may have an idea of what it's like.
Streets crisscross at random angles, motorbikes, cars, and trucks flow through the streets like blood cells rushing through arteries and into arterioles, into the tissues of the sidewalks, stores, and restaurants, and slipping back into venules, and veins, before returning to unknown interconnected hearts beating randomly throughout the city. I experienced this rush of sensory overload upon exiting the Uber somewhere near my hostel.
My hostel was before Basil's on the route but he had entered his hostel as the destination. We tried to explain this to the driver but he spoke zero English, so we decided to just have me jump out when Mapsme said we were close. I tapped the driver on the shoulder and got him to pull over and let me out. It took about thirty seconds of gesturing to get across I was getting out but Basil was staying. The driver handed me my bag and I made my way to the sidewalk.
The lights of the city made the streets feel like a movie set designed for my exploration. Motorcycles went in every direction, communicating in the constant street chatter of VIetnam's second language- Horn beeping. The language has about six words and phrases: "I'm coming up behind you," "Look out," "Get out of the way," "I'm approaching from where you can't see me," "Get the hell out of my way!," and "Hi."
I slipped toward the edge of the sidewalk and picked a direction to walk as Mapsme calculated where I was. All the buildings looked completely different, but the same. They had distinguishing characteristics but not enough for my virgin Hanoi eyes to discern, you know, "same, same, but different." It was a constant struggle to determine if I turned right at the store selling an assortment of random products, or left, and was this the store selling random products from the block I think it is, or the one three streets over? Even with Mapsme, which was doing its best, I had to turn around and backtrack numerous times during my stay.
I found the Republik Backpacker's Hostel with reasonable ease and checked in. I got on the WiFi and messaged Bart and Christiaan. They told me to meet them at their hostel because it was close to "Bar Street." This is the place to go at night. It's what you think it is, but add motorbikes and the occcasional car driving amongst the throng of pedestrians on the narrow streets. And however many lights you're imagining, add fifty percent more.
We sat at a bar called the Prague Pub. Across the street I saw Obama's Restaurant. I didn't know he'd gone into that business.
We searched for another bar that wasn't too crowded and loud, or too empty and quiet. We couldn't find one, so we chose a small, crowded and almost too loud bar. It was small, backpackers were dancing to music I didn't particularly enjoy. Nitrous balloons were a big thing there. A few people lining the edges of the bar sat with their ballon and took small air sips from it. We had a few beers, then went to the Kabob King down the street and ate some fantastic Kabobs.
Then I walked home and was offered drugs twice on one of the streets on the edge of bar street. They walk alongside you and quietly, but just loud enough, say what they have to offer. When you deny them, they offer yet another drug. You deny again and they finally get the picture.
If I was at home, in the states and I had a night like this, I'd chalk it up as a dud. But since I was in Hanoi, I was hanging with my new friends Bart and Christiaan, and everything was new, and crossing the street was like calmly walking through fire as motorbikes and cars zip around you, I chalk it up as a fantastically exciting night.
Some pics from the night market...
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