Those motorbikes are so hanoiing (lol).

Who'd  have thought there was a city more chaotic, more dystopian than Saigon; welcome to Hanoi. We are staying in what they call the "old" quarter, right in the center of town. By day it's hectic, but manageable, but on a Saturday and Sunday evening the place is a magnet for Aussie and other Western tourists. It took us fifteen minutes to negotiate 100 metres down one of the most famous streets, Bia Street (not its real name), which was absolutely packed with people and motorbikes all vying for the same space. There were lights flashing everywhere, noisy street vendors and hundreds of locals trying to sell you anything not bolted down. If this is truly the essence of Hanoi then I think I'll pass. Fortunately, I'm confident there's more to it than this.

Today, the four of us visited Hanoi's Hoa Lo Prison. The prison was originally built by the French colonialists at the end of the 19th century and used to house mainly political revolutionaries but it was taken over by the North Vietnamese communist government in 1954 after the French were told to leave (well, it was even more blunt than this). It is probably best known in recent times for housing American pilots shot down over North Vietnam during the bombing raids of Hanoi and Haiphong, where it got the ironic title of the Hanoi Hilton. The propaganda information boards in the prison made it seem like it really was like staying at the Hilton, but the reality was very different. Pilots were routinely tortured and denied basic human needs, mainly because the North refused to acknowledge them as prisoners of war, preferring to refer to them as war criminals.

Quite early in the morning. By lunchtime, this street will be packed.

Some traditional Vietnamese street music.

Sadly, we farewelled Matt and Imogen a couple of hours ago as they needed to catch their flight home. It was a little strange at first being by ourselves again, but we soon adjusted to being independent travelers once more. Alison and I can only hope that we didn't cramp their style too much. We can also only hope that my dad jokes didn't drive Matt absolutely crazy; I sense they did to Imogen.

After they left, we decided to take another walk to one of Hanoi's most iconic attractions, Train Street. Basically, think of hundreds of little cafes and street vendors serving drinks and food, mainly to tourists either side of a railway line probably not even ten metres apart, with a full sized railway track running right through the middle. Then, at regular times of the day and night when the train is due, everyone picks up their tables and chairs and stands perfectly upright against the walls of the buildings while the train of ten or even fifteen carriages passes in front of you, so close that if you put your arm out, even fully bent, it would be completely cut off. It is both hair raising and totally exhilarating at the same time. After the train has passed, all the tables and chairs are put back out and it's business as usual; only in Hanoi.

This is Train Street, with lots of food vendors.

You can just see the train arriving around the bend.

Very, very close and very loud.

And then it had gone.

After the excitement of the train passing only inches in front of our faces, we decided to slow the pace somewhat and took a leisurely stroll around Hanoi's central lake. It is very popular with both locals and tourists alike, but on the weekends it resembles Melbourne's Moomba festival, with loud music playing, street dancing and, of course, lots of food. I'm pretty certain nobody in Hanoi ever just stays in for a meal of baked beans on toast and a comfy chair in front of Home and Away (for that matter, neither do we, at least the Home and Away part). 

This part of Hanoi is quite French looking.

The lake at night.

At one stage, we decided to take a seat and enjoy the ambiance of the lake and its environs only to be approached twice by two children, ranging in age from six to thirteen, wanting to practice their English on us. Of course, being teachers we were only too happy to oblige. They were lovely kids and we could easily maintain quite good conversations. However, we were quite surprised how trusting their parents were to allow their children to approach complete strangers. The kids were very comfortable being with us, and only too happy to squash up next to us on the seat. They were delightful kids and very polite (far more so than most of the kids we teach back home).