Vietnam in a haze

by Diane Gouet (Germany)

Making a local connection Vietnam

Hanoi is the kind of city that will give you a headache. If the heat doesn’t suffocate you the moment you step outdoors, then it’ll be the pollution. Or the constant humming of thousands of scooters pouring down the street, every street, all the time. It´s easy to avoid the chaos by taking refuge in a Grab Car (the cheapest and most effective way to get around in Vietnam). It’s quick, it’s air conditioned, it takes you right were you want to be. In another word, it’s perfect. But you shouldn’t do that. Here’s why. Vietnam is a country that is not docile. It won’t give itself to you, like the breath-taking Fiji beaches or the peaceful beauty of Kyoto, sprinkled with temples and geishas. The true beauty of Vietnam is to be conquered. Therefore, if you don’t jump right in, you might miss it. To appreciate a city like Hanoi, you need to look deeper, beyond the rusty looking surface. Beauty hides everywhere: the surprising offerings of passing food carts, the poetry of finding a shrine in a bus, an incongruous encounter. I once found myself lost in the Old Quarters, the beating heart of the city. It was already late at night, the clubs were pulsing with strong bass. In order to walk, one had to make a path between the sunburned tourists, flooding from both sides of the street. Everyone was drinking bia hơi (fresh beer) for 6000 dongs (0,22€), to fight off the heat. Scooters made their way nimbly through the nebulous crowd. The scene was lighten up by neon lights, hundreds of them, flickering in turns. Red, yellow, purple, green. Seeking refuge from this chaos, I spotted my very own lighthouse, shining in the distance. The colorful 7-Eleven sign felt like a familiar shelter in an otherwise confusing, stormy ocean of people and sounds. I walked in and was immediately embraced by the strong white light and the freezing temperature (due to a very common overuse of A/C in tropical countries). That was already enough to make me feel more awake than a strong espresso. I grabbed a cider and handed 20.000 dongs. I then stepped out, waiting for my friends to find me. That's when I was approached by this energetic, smiley guy, who I would later find out goes by the name of Dương. Dương was deaf since birth, but incredibly good at communicating. He was also waiting for friends to go clubbing, but he was a bit early. My friends and I didn’t know where to go next, did he have any recommendation? He smiled mysteriously and signed that yes, he did. My two friends arrived, promptly followed by his. They were six, all Hanoi born and raised, and only one of them could hear. He also spoke a bit of English, which later proved convenient. After making sure that everyone was equipped with enough drinking provisions, we were ready to move. They came with four scooters: we were nine. Not a problem in Hanoi. Three on one: “it’s okay, it’s okay!” Dương kept signing. We skeptically squeezed, and it worked. And we were on the road. His driving showed that he knew every corner of every street. He took abrupt turns, never slowing down, not even in the middle of the crowd. He sometimes hailed people, calling their names, and they would cheerfully wave back. After driving for 15 minutes, further and further away from the center, we finally stopped in a rather quiet neighborhood. I spotted a large lake, but there is so many in Hanoi that it’s not exactly a precise indication of place. I had no clue where we were. We followed Dương and his friends through a small door under a building. We would walk out that door many hours later, sore from dancing, laughing and hungry for fried spring rolls and meat skewers. There is no need to tell the details of that night in the club, but, as every incredible night out, it ended as the sun appeared, and left us all with cherished memories of the people who adopted us for a night.