Le Petit Hanoi Hotel….I was transferred here by the place I originally booked because they had a guest who got sick and didn’t check out…so no room for me. This place is on a busy street. When I say “on”, I mean the dining area is 5 metres from cars and pedestrians. Quiet it is not.
But, if I hadn’t come here, I wouldn’t have met Sonia, a young woman from Perce on the Gaspe Coast, and we would not have spent a wonderful day touring Hanoi on foot yesterday. Sonia has this wonderful map application, and it took us on a fascinating tour of winding alleys and crowded streets to the National University of Education which was packed with teen-aged graduates in caps and gowns, their proud parents, and tourists from every corner of the earth.
We had lunch on a rooftop overlooking the daily sights of this bustling city, men getting haircuts on wooden stools on the sidewalk, the mirror affixed to the stone wall surrounding the school. Women preparing and cooking full meals on the sidewalk, others hawking intricate paper lace postcards arranged in colourful upside-down umbrellas. And the relentless traffic, even on Sunday when many people have the day off.
We made our way to the Ho Chi Minh complex, a huge museum dedicated to the life and times of Uncle Ho. It was an odd place…an arrangement of giant plastic fruit on a huge table set amongst exquisite sculptures, original documents, hand-written notes. Next door across a huge plaza, the mausoleum where his body lies and where thousands line up five days a week, mornings only, to pay their respects. I’ve heard rumours that his body is not, in fact, where it is purported to be, but I have no way of confirming.
I am checking out of my hotel in an hour or so, heading down to the Kangaroo Cafe where I will leave my big backpack until my return from Sapa on Friday morning. Not looking forward to lugging the beast down all those narrow stairs. I’d ask the young lad at the desk for help but his English is limited. He keeps calling me sir….you would think I’d get used to it but old habits die hard.