Hanoi

We no longer have to worry about scooters on pavements....because there are no pavements!

Here in old town Hanoi, although there are pavements, the majority of life is conducted on them and over them, and so most of our wandering is done single file in the road itself.  Scooter parking, scooter hire and repair, clothes shops, green grocers, off licenses, bars, restaurants and barber shops - all are conducted on the pavements.

With a sub tropical sun already high in the sky at 9am, an army of scooters buzzes through the narrow streets, swerving and dodging pedestrians and oncoming traffic and loaded up with two, three, sometimes four passengers plus animals and luggage (we've seen scooters piled so high with boxes, fruit, beer, doors, tables - anything you can imagine, that all that can be seen of the vehicle beneath is two small black tyres poking out). Ladies in traditional Vietnamese conical hats wander along the kerbside selling anything that can be carried, from pineapples and bananas to flip flops and bras, all piled high in two bamboo trays hanging from a wooden beam balanced across their shoulders. Tiny restaurants, big enough for just a stove and a fridge, spread children's sized plastic chairs and tables across the kerbside where hungry locals perch just inches from the ground to have their breakfast of beef or chicken noodle soup. The smoke from the wood ovens ribbons through the streets and blends seductively with the sweet aromas of the freshly ground coffee, also being served on tiny tables and chairs beneath the hanging vines of giant banyan trees, their roots bulging beneath the hot concrete. From darkened doorways, small children smile and wave shyly at us, the older, more confident ones dance around our feet calling 'hello, hello, hello, how are you, hello!'

These street side restaurants serve the most delicious yet simple food, and as we squat down at a table, one needs to say little more than 'hai' (two) and within minutes, steaming dishes of food arrive at the table - no choice, no menu, just whatever that particular establishment serves on that day.  One highlight has been 'bun cha' - small patties of barbecued pork in a meaty broth laced with fresh papaya and herbs, served with rice noodles, chili and garlic, and a giant colander of greenery such as mint, coriander and parsley, all smelling like an English garden in spring.  This zingy mixture of components are added to the broth in whatever proportions you choose, to be slurped down with a large glass of Vietnamese iced tea.

Pho Bo - beef noodle soup.

At night, the famous Bia Hoi joints open alongside the restaurants and in front of closed shop fronts, serving super cheap, super cold, locally brewed beer until the barrel is empty. Each place serves something different, whatever the family has been making, and again, the miniature picnic chairs are spread across the sidewalk, often spilling over into the road as more thirsty people arrive and more chairs are unstacked.

Bia Hoi - 4,000 Vietnamese Dong per pint (about twelve pence)

It was while sat at such an establishment this week (at what is known as 'Bia Hoi corner') that a sudden cry echoed through the streets, passing from one shop to the next.  Tourists, with worried expressions on their faces, began pouring from the crowds further up the street. The owners of the joint we were in leaped to their feet along with everyone in the many bars and restaurants around us. In a second, the seats were pulled out from beneath us as they hissed 'You pay, you pay,' under their breath, trying to take the drinks from our hands.

'What's happening, what is it?'

'Poleeese! Poleeese! You go!' came the response from the owner, now stacking chairs inside her small shop front and dragging crates of beer into the darkness.

Above the commotion, a small flat-bed Suzuki truck could be seen crawling slowly towards us - like a tiny troop carrier with a canvas cover slung over the back. People continued to flee the scene and not wishing to be caught up in whatever was heading our way, we downed our beers and slipped away into a nearby alley, still rather confused as to what was going on but keen to exclude ourselves from it.

But then the truck turned, rolling straight into the very alleyway in which we were now stood, catching us in its headlights, through which we were able to make out the silhouettes of a small squad of military police on foot, angrily barking orders at bar owners and street food vendors as they tore signs and price lists from the walls, kicking over chairs and tables and sending bottles and glasses smashing to the floor.

We strode quickly ahead and soon reached the top of the alleyway to merge with the crowds of a busy main road. With the police far behind us, the bar owners here had no clue of what was heading their way and one owner eagerly waved us towards awaiting tables, saying 'hello, hello, welcome, beer!'

'Police,' we whispered, pointing in the direction from which we had just come.

'Pay now! Pay now!' came his response as he turned to his customers and immediately began collecting empty bottles, stacking the chairs and calling to the neighbouring businesses along the street.  The same pandemonium as before ensued.

It later transpired that although these places are allowed to sell beer and food on the pavement, it is illegal to set up chairs and tables in the street itself, and that, in general, the police like to cause a bit of chaos and flex their muscles every once in a while whether the law demands it or not. Having satisfied ourselves that being nothing but naive tourists, we couldn't been seen to be in the wrong, off to a more secluded bar we strode, although we made a point of looking over our shoulders as we walked!

Chaotic, loud, pleasingly rough around the edges yet with some of the friendliest people we've met so far, Hanoi was proving to be a highlight of the trip after just a few days. But then we went to Ha Long Bay...and that is another story.