By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
The moment we stepped foot outside the airport, it was obvious our time in Hanoi would be drastically different from our days spent in sleepy Luang Prabang, which provided a snail-paced transition between countries (It also marked the end of my week-long bout with traveler’s diarrhea, but I’ll spare those details). Soon as we climbed into the taxi, our driver darted down a one-way ramp in the wrong direction, spun a sharp 180° turn, and zoomed towards the heart of the city. I sat in silence, my eyes plastered to the windows. We stayed in the heart of the Old Quarter, the perfect location, in the thick of the best food and countless bars (a younger me would have taken advantage of the latter). Time and time again it has been reinforced to us just how crucial staying walking distance from the action truly is. We were a five minute walk from the beautiful and scenic Hoan Kiem Lake, which means “Lake of the Returned Sword.” Legend has it that in the 1400s, a Vietnamese King was gifted a special sword by a Golden Turtle God, which he used to end a long war and reclaim his nation’s independence. One day while boating around the lake, he was approached by the Golden Turtle God. He handed over the sword, which was pulled down into the water, and neither sword nor turtle was ever seen again. Since we were there just days before the Lunar New Year, or Tet, there were sculptures and installations being installed all around the lake, which made it all the more beautiful to walk around, day or night. Each night we’d seek out local specialties. That first night, we found ourselves sitting on 8”-tall plastic stools in the middle of the street, and the food was delicious! A woman set up a fruit stand over my shoulder, creating an island that diverted motor-bike traffic on either side of her. Sidewalks had literally become parking lots for bikes, and pedestrians instead walk in the streets. Stick to the curb, and have faith that the people zipping by over your shoulder won’t clip you. Not uncommon to see a family of four, all squeezed comfortably onto one bike. My head was constantly on a swivel - not nervous, just taking it all in. The architecture and signage, the crowds and noise … I fell in love with Hanoi immediately! During the day we’d take in historical visits to places like Hoa Lo Prison. It was immensely interesting that this very prison, initially built in the late 1800s by French colonialists to wrongfully imprison Vietnamese “political prisoners,” then later used by the same Vietnamese to intern American POWs shot down from the sky (most notably including John McCain), still stands as a museum for historical context. In the nearby Women’s Museum, we learned about badass female battalions who fought alongside the men, shooting planes out of the sky and blowing up tanks. Reminding ourselves that we’re Americans traveling in Vietnam brought uncomfortable and conflicting feelings (like the time I arrived in Berlin, and the first thing I did was to visit the Holocaust Museum - big mistake). Finally, our last morning, we visited the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum to pay our respects. Surprisingly free, there is a strict code of conduct that everyone must follow, including dress code (we saw a baby get denied for wearing only socks, yet no shoes). You walk silently in single file around the complex, enter a building and feel the temperature drop 20 degrees. Remain on the red carpet as you walk up and down hallways until you enter a dark room. Look straight ahead, don’t break stride. Steal a quick glance to your left and you see, flanked by four armed officers in pristine white uniforms, is Ho Chi Minh’s preserved body encased in glass. Hanging from the wall behind the display are a Vietnamese flag and the old Soviet Union hammer and sickle. Quite a sight to behold. Once outside, Isabel turned to me and asked, “So?” Thinking about the lasting impression that image left on me, and our time in Hanoi overall, I could only muster two words: “Bad. Ass.”