Hanoi 3 : Han'goi-ver

Hanoi puns are hard. Recognising the pun as my favourite tool when titling blog entries, we all sat down a couple of days ago to think of some. Brainstorming reaping little, we collectively concurred that the incompatibility of Hanoi with basic wordplay was rather Hanoi-ing...

Such is the nature of writing in arrears, today's title in fact references the after-effects of the day under review. Whilst far from an Albuquerque Incident II situation, we did drink a fair bit on the evening of Day 3 and, coupled with some exhaustion and dehydration and the heat and the pollution and the persistent honking of horns for literally no reason at all, here in the far-flung future of Day 4 my faculties are a mite subdued.

So, just time for a quick recap of the day's activities. We started out by visiting the Citadel. The former seat of Imperial power, the site has undergone numerous transformations over the years and been utilised for a great many purposes, from royal palace to military command centre to tourist attraction. The venue's current claim to fame is its Guinness World Record for Loudest Loudspeaker in the 'tour-guide belt-clip' category. Most commonly witnessed delivering a Chinese translated tour for about seven people through quiet rooms where even raising one's voice would be redundant, the skilled operator is famed for their ability to progress through exhibits at precisely the same pace as western tourists so as to completely disable capacity to concentrate and render any reading of artefact descriptions completely impossible. It's ability to incite the instinct to grab the device and crush it in bare hands then chuckle as the debris sprinkles to the ground in a beautiful silence aside from the aforementioned chuckle makes it's persistent existence all the more incredible.

We then went to the Lenin statue so Mark could do his Lenin pose, as you do, then popped to KFC for a drink. As the Colonel's Secret Recipe appeared disappointingly unchanged for the Vietnamese market, we didn't eat. Also we weren't hungry. In fact we skipped lunch entirely on Day 3, recognising we'd been eating out of habit rather than necessity. Though on reflection that decision may have been a contributor to my present weariness.

We then went to the Temple of Literature, a Confucion Temple containing the National Academy, Vietnam's first national university. There were some robed graduates there throwing their mortar boards in the air, after which they came down again, definitive proof of gravity's stranglehold on Vietnamese society.

Next we went to the Fine Arts museum. It was fine.

We wandered next to the Military Museum, firstly part-ascending the Flag Tower, a square structure taller than it was wide with a stick at the top bearing rectangular cloth emblazoned with the Vietnam country emblem. Whilst Woody and I were fairly certain it was identical from all angles, Mark took photos from every corner just to be sure. This was permitted as we'd purchased a special 'camera ticket' on the way in; presumably a canny way of ensuring national defence secrets can only be committed to film by those able to stump up the 47 pence fee.

There were numerous military aircraft for us to view and Mark to photograph and some tanks for Mark to photograph and a genuinely impressive sculpture in the courtyard constructed from several war wrecks from combat in the French Indochina War as well as the Vietnam War for Mark to photograph. Not dissimilar to the international killing spree upon which Bond embarked once granted his permission slip, Mark made thorough use of his License to Snap.

We returned to the hotel, stopping only briefly to drip hot oil down my t-shirt via a fried banana conduit, then had a chat with Phillip, the hotel owner. We told him where we going next and he booked the train tickets for us, gave us a free beer whilst we waited for the email confirmation to arrive and then gave us a discount voucher for a recommended restaurant nearby. In the vast Venn diagram of 'Nam, Phillip most definitely occupies the crossover between 'friendly' and 'cannot do enough for you', whilst intersecting the smaller 'hotel owner' circle and the relatively exclusive 'named Phillip' set. In fact, most everyone we've met or transacted with since we've gotten here has satisfied those first two qualities, rocketing the Vietnamese people right into the Acceptable Foreigners Top 10 list. We later found out Phillip was from Germany, but he can retain an honorary position.

After unsuccessfully attempting to find me a spare pair of trousers (I'm too tall for literally any garment worn by anybody here ever), we went to the recommended eatery and were met by Phillip's little brother at the door as Phillip had phoned ahead for us because of course he had. For a change we each had portions of carbs and protein with some veg before heading to the nearby bar district, also recommended by Phillip.

This was by far the most 'touristy' region of Hanoi's Old Quarter we'd witnessed, with the patrons predominantly Chinese or Western. But whilst you'd expect things to be priced at a premium, and technically they were, a circa 25% increase on next-to-nothing remains practically nothing. We had a beer at a street-bar, then were guided to a second-floor bar and greeted by a woman so scantily glad we were momentarily concerned it was something seedier. Turned out to be a normal and very nice bar where we enjoyed a private balcony with stunning views of the balconies and rooftop extensions of the building opposite.

After a few we went back to Prague Bar, which we'd visited a couple of days earlier by chance and had tables that faced right onto a busy junction - a mesmerising spot to sit and watch the traffic go by. An actual, honestly not sarcastic, fascinating spectacle to observe.

We ordered beers from the menu we hadn't yet tried, only to be informed by the apologetic waitress that they were out of stock. I jokingly expressed chagrin at this mild inconvenience, but I don't think my humorous tone translated as they rushed out to a different bar to purchase our selected tipple and sell-on to us. Feeling a bit bad about this, we drank up and left a nice tip, which would have been insulting from a monetary perspective in the UK and is apparently insulting from a cultural perspective in Vietnam unless they've done something particularly surplus to requirement, which we felt they had so it was probably okay.

We then went to another bar where they gave us free shots along with another three beers each. We put our names on the 'winner-stays-on' list for the pool table, on which we all played but didn't stay on. Moderately drunk, we wandered back the hotel and so this morning had the titular Han'goi-ver.

But since this is written intermittently through the day in 20-30 second bursts, mainly when Mark is taking pictures, I'm feeling quite a lot better now and can likely stomach the Egg Coffee we're walking to try. Will we like it? Find out in tomorrow's thrilling instalment if we have wi-fi on the boat, which is unlikely.Read more