Next stop - Vietnam

We flew from Vientiane to Hanoi yesterday. After sorting out our visas with some difficulty at the airport, we purchased new SIM cards for our phones and took a taxi to our hotel. My first impressions of this city of seven million were of a new clean airport; impressive highways without much traffic; beautifully landscaped surroundings along the way, tended by workers in straw cone hats; flags flying over billboards celebrating the 70th anniversary of the communist party's declaration of independence; and a fabulous modern bridge on our way into town.

Then I saw a different side. I noticed a heavy smoggy haze hanging over the city. As we drove onto the smaller streets, I saw brightly coloured colonial buildings in various states of disrepair. and packed crowds of scooters and people making their way along crowded streets.

This city is so different from my experiences. The shops along the streets are often six or eight feet wide with goods spilling out of them. People work and eat on the street in front of their shops, and live in the two or three stories above their shops. The neighbourhood is seething and pulsing with people living and working in packed quarters. In the morning I saw people working in front of their small restaurants preparing fish, making dough, washing seafood and other tasks. In the afternoon and evening the spaces were filled with people cooking, and restaurant patrons or staff sitting on plastic stools and chairs eating, drinking and smoking. There are sidewalks, but they are mostly filled with endless scooters parked or parking. So we would inevitably end up walking along with a traffic. Items large and small are transported by scooters and small motorcycles, and ladies are sometimes carrying vegetables and goods in two large wicker baskets, carried by their shoulders by a stick and rope.

I learned in the short time we've been in Hanoi that if you want to cross a street, you need to move slowly across with confidence and faith that the maelstrom of scooters around you will make adjustments to your presence. Such is the traffic system here, or lack of a system. The only traffic rules I can see in this city largely without traffic lights, stop or yield signs are to stay to the right and not hit anybody. Somehow it works and it's a wonder to watch, although unnerving as a participant.

After settling in to our hotel, we went to a restaurant around the corner for a great introduction to Vietnamese cuisine in this town. We ordered a few dishes similar to those we would order at our favourite Vietnamese restaurant in Canada, and they tasted similar but different; as they say on tee shirts around here, same-same but different. It was very good; I have a feeling the food will be a highlight over the next few weeks in Vietnam.

On our way back to the hotel this afternoon, while waiting to cross the street, a street vendor was able to extract a few dollars from me in an interesting and exasperating interaction. John and I were offered a small round donut each. Being naive newcomers to the city, we took the offering (mistake #1). They weren't bad, but a bit chewy. I indicated they were good out of politeness (mistake #2). She next filled a bag with donuts and passed it to me and asked for some money in return, but I didn't understand how much she wanted for these things, worth less than a dollar I'm sure. I would have paid a few bucks to end the exchange but she started quoting the equivalent of about 10 dollars for the sad donuts. I tried to return the bag of donuts back to the basket they came from but the lady kept arresting my hand and lowering her price slightly each time. I took out my wallet, put down the donuts, and offered her two and then three dollars. She kept asking for more money and I just had enough so I just walked away without the donuts. She took half of the donuts out of the bag and handed them to John. What a crazy bargaining experience for a few little donuts I didn't want.

So as I was walking away John called me back because he was only wearing one shoe. While I was dealing poorly with the donut lady, the shoe guy next to her had applied some glue to the front of John's shoe while he was wearing it, and had somehow talked John into taking off his sandal. When I came back the guy was in the middle of stitching the front of John's sandal with this yellow thread that didn't match the black colour of the sandal. I told him to stop and return the shoe, which he reluctantly did - while asking for money of course.

I'm not sure what the lesson is here. Maybe don't take free donuts and keep your shoes on your feet? Or maybe laugh more and go with the flow. These people clearly don't have much and were only trying to make a living as best they could. Catheleen laughed afterward since she was the one who needed a few stitches in her sandal.

Here Elizabeth and I are at a park in the city.