More on Hanoi

Alex covered much of our Hanoi experience thus far in his post, so I'll be brief.

It's exhausting standing nearby - let alone navigating by foot or by motorbike - the streets of the Old Quarter, but redeeming experiences have been frequent.

We've eaten good food:
Banh my: warm, toasted baguette (French colonial residue is all over the place) stuffed with braised pork belly, cucumber, red cabbage, cilantro, onion, tomato, and a sauce of mayonnaise and abundant chile. It's soft, crunchy, warm, cold, rich, sweet, and a perfect late night snack.
Roadside Pho stalls: a morning noodle soup similar to the one I posted about below.
Fried food stands: sweet and savory everything cooked in a giant wok of glistening oil.
Bia Hoi shops: Daily kegs of fresh (no preservatives) beer sold for 2,000 dong (about 12 cents) a glass.

Our first night in Hanoi we were sitting on the steps of the only cathedral I've seen thus far in SE Asia, drinking a final beer of the evening, when a rather inebriated young man stumbled over to some adjacent steps. He spoke impeccable English, and told us his story of coming down to the city from the country - his father having died - struggling for any money he could come by. He slept in the streets, looking for work until the point when he had to return home for lack of alternatives.

The wary traveller in me suspected some sort of a scam, and maybe that's what it was, but I gave him several thousand dong and we parted amicably. Over the next few days we ran into Hii twice more. He gave us some Vietnamese lessons, and I gave him some more money for the train back home for Tet. He seemed genuinely grateful, and either way it was a pleasure to spend time with him.

I write about this in an attempt to illustrate how difficult this whole travelling thing can be. The money we give will not, in all likelihood, make any significant difference. Chipping away in this manner seems futile, while ignoring the problem seems callous. Some cultural bridge was built (pardon the platitude), scam or not, financially futile or not, so for that I'm pleased. Anyway, a constant consideration.

Apologies for the ramble. Tomorrow morning we leave for a week-long motorcycle trip up through the mountains to Sapa. Our hogs are pretty sweet: old Soviet Minsks, the workhorses of Communist states worldwide. They call it "the old buffalo" in Vietnamese, and apparently they're as durable and rugged as bikes get. On the down side they're said to break down every five minutes or so; sounds like an adventure to me. See you all soon.