Okay, so it was a pretty boring day in Hanoi. Not that I mind boring. Bored is a nearly impossible state of mind at home as there is always something you should be doing or someone you should be calling, and if not, there's an apartment that could use some cleaning, a sock drawer to be straightened, et al.
With all my errands run in the morning (visa extended, plane ticket changed, books exchanged), I had nothing to do but stroll through the wide breezy boulevards of the french quarter which included a stop in the grand Metripole Hotel to use the bathroom (I am a solicitor of all the finest hotel bathrooms in every city I visit) and then plop myself down on a bench by the lake to dig into my new books. I would have stopped for lunch but I had managed to eat an entire package of these great cookies on my walk and my stomach was on sugar overload.
The boulevards are pleasant to walk down. It is springtime in Hanoi, which means you can walk at a normal pace without sweat bursting from every pore of your body. And the wide sidewalks allow enough room for parked moped and pedestrians, which is a luxury in an Asian city. Mopeds are kings of the road and sidewalks. Sidewalks are not for walking. They are for parking mopeds. This leaves pedestrians no choice but to walk on the road where they have to fend their way through moving traffic of modpeds, cars and bicycles, which is more do-able than weaving through mopeds parked exhaust pipe to exhaust pipe.
The boulevards of the french quarter also give a walking traveler the ability to pull out her guidebook in broad daylight without being accosted by five to ten motorbike drivers or postcard vendors. The guidebook is a sign of weakness. Opening it is like throwing out chum in an ocean of hungry sharks. Any pedestrian who pulls one out is identifying herself as a person in need of help, a vulnerable traveler who, if pressed hard enough, will say yes to the asking price of bamboo hats, pineapple sticks, motorbike rides, postcard packets or even tickets for a lottery that he/she is not eligible to win. But on the boulevards, the same traveler is afforded massive amounts of space and is free to pull the book out without ducking into an alley or attempting to read the book without removing it from her bag.
After I had a nice stroll, I parked myself on a bench in front of a lake and read.This was amusing to an old Vietnamese man who stopped to read over my shoulder and thumbed through the first few pages. It was a friendly gesture and he went on his way. The same thing happened twice more, two different old Vietnamese men. Strange. Maybe a traveler sitting still was a curiosity to them? It was Sunday afternoon and there were certainly tons of people strolling, sitting on benches watching the glossy sunlit water. The frail willow trees at the water's edge bent in the breeze, like a woman hanging her wet hair over the bathtub. Okay, so they were mostly men and none of the women were white and unaccompanied. I guess I was an oddity.
I pulled out my notebook and started writing. This made a girl stop in her tracks and inspect what I was doing. She was astounded that I was writing with my left hand. I've gotten this many times in Vietnam as Vietnamese students are not permitted to write with their left hands. I'm an oddity again, but all in good fun.
The only thing left to do was eat dinner, and what a dinner it was. After a day of dessert, I figured some protein was in order. Cha ca (fried fish, catfish to be exact) is Hanoi's specialty so I found a place in the guidebook, ordered the only thing on the menu and waited. A minute later, they laid out a bowl of fresh greens, another bowl of mint and basil, a small dish of peanuts, a small bowl of clear fish sauce and chopped orange peppers, and a heap of sticky rice noodles. Moments later, the waitress put the charcoal burner on my table, it's heat strong and dry on my arm and rising up to my cheeks. She laid the frying pan on the burner and the chunks of yellow fish gurgled and sizzled in the hot oil. She heaped the bowl of greens in with the fish, mixing it with a spoon, then left me to finish the rest. The meal was wonderful. I put a mound of rice in a small bowl, spooned some fish and hot oil on top of it, sprinkled in mint and basil leaves, added the peanuts, a spoonful of fish sauce, mixed it all together and shoveled it in. It was incredible. The chunks of fish were tender and flavorful. The mint and basil were fragrant and the whole thing oozed with flavor. This more than made up for my cookie eating day. Wait, does eating cookies for lunch cancel out dessert? I don't think that's a rule I've ever heard of....
