Vietnam Part I: Hanoi and the Overnight Train

You know you've organized a good adventure when on the flight over you compose a letter in your yellow waterproof journal for the possible eventuality of your death or disappearance.  I didn't think either option was likely, but I like to be prepared.  I had over-considered ever option, possible risk and logistical complication, but once you are heading to a new foreign country where you don't even know how to say hello in the local language, you simply must press on.  I landed in a cloudy, subdued Hanoi, found my 30 Lbs ruck and headed towards the front door.  In a moment of shame and fear of hungriness, I did this:

Yes, food that I would never eat at home was safe and happy and amazing.  Then I realized there was ice in my Coke.  Daily Cipro intake starting in 3, 2, 1.....

After my last civilized meal, I took a cab 15 miles towards the train station knowing I had a full 6 hours to pack the last 3 miles and explore.  The city was busy, but not the chaos of India or the dark side roads of Nigeria.  The most notable aspect is the presence of motorbikes and scooters.  They wiz around, not loaded with an excess number of passengers, but with one or two helmeted passengers aboard.  

I landed in the Old Quarter and realized my driver and I had no chance of communication.  I pointed him at St. Joseph's Cathedral on the map and we arrived at the least welcoming, non-accessible church of all time.  It is a stark contrast to the chaos and fluidity of the streets.  The granite face stands firm, unwavering, unwilling to blend with its environment.

Since I was already on the Cipro party train (Cipro is a general antibiotic), I bought some roadside treats from a nice woman with no teeth and above par merchandising skills.  I was still hungry and lost and tired.  

The dark ones were super spicy and mysterious in a bad way, but everything else was predictable from a foreign pastry standpoint.  

I walked around the lake and generally watched families go about their Saturday afternoon routines.  The sun wasn't out, but the general feeling was of a happy spring day.

  

The most cheerful hammer and sickle that I've ever seen.

This is where I composed post cards.  Luckily, there was a nice woman selling them, with stamps, just outside the post office!

These kids had rented roller skates and spent more time on the ground laughing than up on 8 wheels.  It was wonderful to sit and laugh with the locals.  That's the thing, we are all human and certainly share common ground.  You just have to open up your mind for a minute to accept and enjoy it. 

The teenagers had an equally difficult time on the roller blades, but the laughter and singing was nearly infectious.

This little sweet creature was a great shop keeper and the first dog I had been able to pet in two weeks.  His mother "Rose" was selling her artist husband's shirts.  It was my first insight into the fact that their independence was from a war we were involved in.  

Friends or food?  You never really know in Africa/Asia. 

Post office box!  If you know me, well, you know.  

After the exhaustion of exploration on foot with a heavy bag, the cheap and cheerful "Gecko" seemed the place to be.  For $6.45 I had egg rolls, fried noodles, two beers and got to use the restroom.  Win.

View of the elaborate wiring that can be found in town. 

Happy hour.  Very happy indeed.

My favorite sight: slightly terrified Europeans in Vietnam.  I only met one other American, but this has clearly become a European traveling hot spot. 

The knock off North Face was everywhere.

There were so many narrow alleys that it was only the compass that eventually got me to the train station.  

This is the main railway station.  Definitely not as intimidating as the European counterpart in Paris, but it is intimidating in that the language barrier and my paranoia about how to get on a train and go where I intended to go where both appearing to be insurmountable.  This was a complete exhaustion based perception.  The guides for the city all described the train station as unattractive to the landscape and promptly explained that this was because the Americans had repeatedly bombed it.

This is when a quality memory of the trip occurs.  The public facilities factor in Hanoi was limited.  Bear in mind a 30 Lb duffel as I explain.  There was a sign that said "Free W.C."  I was pumped.  After showing a woman at the desk my ticket and getting a curt nod, hoping this meant I was at the right place, I wove in and out of the entire Vietnamese army (ok, about 100 soldiers) waiting for the train as I headed to the restroom.  When I turned the corner, it was like a scene out of Saw.  I haven't seen it, but I know this bathroom was in there.  There were hoses and wire scattered about.  The floor was white tile covered in dirty water and privacy was lacking.  The spooky factor was more on a gut level, but heck, nature calls.  As I furrowed my brow and pressed inward, the largest, wet, dirty rat sauntered across the floor.  Not scurried, sauntered.  I didn't cry out like a fearful foreigner, but I was beyond done.  If you had given me the promise of a warm dry bed, Pizza Hut and a direct flight home, the temptation would have palatable.  Sleep is important and I hadn't had enough.  The problem with the first rat, besides the fact that he wasn't cute like the small mammals that I encounter at home, was the possibility of more rats.  F...  I survived and made it onto the train.  

Getting on the train!  No one checked my ticket, but heck, I got this.  Let's move forward confidently!

This is the inside of the hard berth.  There were a total of 6 sleeping spots. Most common questions answered: No one spoke English, all announcements were in Vietnamese, no it wasn't weird, I slept like a baby when I was sleeping.

View down the train corridor. 

My neighbor's space for the overnight adventure.  They hopped on at one of the stops along the way.  I had no idea until I woke up.  So glad it wasn't a creeper.

View from my sleeping, riding, 10 hours of living position.

Being a slightly paranoid individual, I wanted a top bunk so I wouldn't wake up with someone looking at me.  Well, there is a reason no one picks the top bunk.  It requires that you vault up about 7 feet and then perform a circ du soleil type move.  I actually got myself stuck trying to be smooth and the whole car laughed.  It was either funny that I was a foreigner who couldn't get my life together or they had been there.  It set a tone of humility and fellowship in our little car of people that never spoke.  

The corridor with all the cabin doors shut at night. 

Arrived at Dong Hoi!

My last confession, due to a lack of confidence, exhaustion and the fact that no one ever checked my train ticket, I began to fear that I was on the wrong train, headed the wrong direction (4 trains departed at the same time).  Completely unfounded, but with no phone service and limited maps on the phone, all I could do was watch the little GPS dot on my Google maps as it headed south.  At some point, I realized I wasn't sure of the process to disembark.  How much time would I have?  How do you get off the train?  How are you sure you are at the right stop if you can't understand the announcements?  What if I oversleep?  Hell, is this the right train??  I decided to watch an episode of Downton Abbey on my Kindle, set an alarm for an hour before my arrival time and hope for the best.  It turned out the man with the 3 year old-ish girl that was bunked across and below was going to Dong Hoi as well.  He found me in the hall, said, "Dong Hoi?" and I knew that I was probably about to make it where I was trying to go.  He offered a bottle of water and a piece of gum.  It was a small gesture, but was only a further indication of the commonality of the human experience.  It reminded me that we all need to help each other along, with whatever resources we have.