Chasing Amy-Lou

Hanoi, Vietnam:

Today was not an entirely exciting day. I knew I had a night bus to SaPa to catch that evening – a journey which would probably provide me with zero sleep – so I thought I’d take it easy, relax a bit and not dabble in anything too strenuous. However, contradicting myself – as I tend to do quite a lot – I decided instead that stomping over a distance of a few kilometres by taking an epic walk around the city would be a great idea.
Taking it easy indeed.

My low-key ambling led me through bits of the old quarter, and then took me to the north-east of the city and as far as the Presidential Palace, The National Assembly, Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and the Lenin Monument.

Considering I still wasn’t feeling too flush – my supply of Dong diminishing rapidly – I pulled my purse strings even tighter, refused to pay entry to any of the attractions -including the Temple of Literature – and kind of just skirted round the perimeters like a creepy Peeping Tom, trying to snap some points of interest through the gaps in the walls and fences.

As I neared the site of the Imperial City, walking past foreign embassies and government buildings, the Ho Chi Minh Museum and Mausoleum appeared before me. Now, the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum is quite a sight to behold; and not really in a good way – grand in stature, seated on some kind of stone pedestal, it towers over Ba Dinh Square, like the huge block of disgusting grey concrete it is. The National Assembly building and the Presidential Palace aren’t particularly impressive either, and my overall thoughts were that whoever designed them must’ve had a real fascination with ugly 1970s tower blocks or such like; you know, the ones that posses absolutely no character whatsoever: the attempt at postmodernism falling flat on its face; the greying slabs and grotesque facades not making them at all appealing to those with an eye for aesthetics.

In fact, my impressions of the capital city as a whole were pretty disappointing. I’d been quite excited to come to Hanoi, but as I meandered through the confusing network of tiny little back streets; witnessed the evidential filth and sad drabness of the place, I couldn’t help but feel it was devoid of character. The layout was less grid-like than Ho Chi Minh; there was no really buzz about it; the atmosphere a little flat; and nothing really jumped out at me.

Maybe I was being too hasty though; maybe because I was leaving for Laos in a few days I’d subconsciously had enough and was already seeking new adventure; or maybe it was just the unfortunate weather – Hanoi’s climate at this time of year is slightly different to that of Ho Chi Minh’s and other areas in the south – it’s very humid but quite overcast and smoggy. And it might not have helped that it was the start of the wet season too; and after being subjected to constant heat and sunshine for the last ten months or so, an overcast Hanoi wasn’t tickling my tastebuds too much.

Despite the weather, I probably should’ve given it the benefit of the doubt (it did have some nice pagodas and cool monuments) and focused on imagining what it would be like in dry season – bright and inviting, sunny and cheery. Perhaps I should’ve done that. However, like any traveller, backpacker or tourist will tell you, it’s not compulsory to fall in love with every place you visit. Christ, I don’t think it’s even possible to fall in love with every place you visit, for everywhere is different and each city or town has its own appeal. So as the rain started to fall and the streets started to fill up with murky water; and as the cars and the scooters started to honk their horns in adamant desperation, I decided that Hanoi, although beautiful in its own way, well, it just wasn’t really the place for me.