I mentioned in the last chapter that I had a rare talent of being able to sleep through anything, be it an uncomfortable seat on a bus trudging over a rocky and pot hole laced road or even construction work hammering away in close proximity at dawn. I lied. I'm currently located on the bottom bunk of an eight person dorm in Hanoi. Above me, on the top bunk, hides a middle aged man from LA, complete with raspy nasal voice and Japanese features, whose sole contribution to the room is to keep us all petrified when we are all lying under our thin and tattered bed sheets. At around 3am the other night he actually emitted a primal scream as he ascended from the depths of a nightmare. The rest of the dorm, me included, broke out in a collective laugh at this man's confused shrill, the like of which was last witnessed by Bart when he was bound to a wheelchair over the summer holidays.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gqipy2XYUqU.
Although we all sniggered at this high pitched damsel, the playful response hid a nervousness as to what else this man could surprise us with for the rest of our stay.
I arrived in Hanoi, on a fairly breezy and rainy night at 11pm on New Year's Eve. My expectations of hoards of travelers at my hostel, ready to lead a conga line to the stroke of midnight where quashed when I realised that everyone had left the hostel's masquerade party and had all departed for colourful destinations that I was not aware of. I strolled to a nearby enclave, the Polite Pub - owned by a fellow from Nottinghamshire - as it was the nearest venue listed on my Lonely Planet guide within walking distance. As I supped on my lonesome Halida, an Australian and German sat beside me at the bar, took pity on my predicament and asked me to join them in their celebrations. I was not expecting to drown in a deluge of cheap tequila, but that was their weapon of choice, and as they were paying, it would have been rude not to have drifted along in this toxic sea.
New Year's Day Prayer
The following day, it didn't take me too long to locate the infamous Bia Hoi cross street, perched within the Old Quarter of Hanoi. This cluster of little bars brew their own fresh beer every day at 4pm and sell the somewhat tangy and crisp residue for around 15pence a glass. That's a recipe for much frivolity and the invitation to stumble down the loosely cobbled streets of the back alleys of bad decisions. One of these side streets led to a plate of local delicacies in a nearby outdoor restaurant, where battered crickets, meat paste (I was promised pork, but more likely dog) and fried frogs legs with mint were digested with instant regret.
At Le Pub with the Brits whom I've bumped into at every leg up Vietnam
On exiting a popular establishment Le Pub (poor name, jovial atmosphere) myself and my Australian friends were cornered by local moto drivers, requesting us to provide them some late night transport business. On informing them of our collective preference to walk back to the hostel, they asked us whether we wished to participate in a popular wrestling game that they played most nights by the curb of the pavement. We of course agreed to take them on, none of us wishing to bruise our burgeoning masculinity. The wrestling game was very odd, the mechanics of which seemed to be of standing opposite your opponent and making a seesaw motion with your arms until one of you loses balance and thus defeated in the dual. We were half expecting the drivers to pull out some Jean-Claude Van Damme spinning martial arts kicks, but their frail and skinny torsos were no match for our bloated Western stomachs.
Let's Wrestle
Perth Dave: Questionable pose
Hanoi is perfect to walk around and take in the cluttered markets stalls and the pale crumbling colonial buildings. A few of us took a morning out to visit Vietnam's most important historical figure of modern times, Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum. In the style of Lenin and Stalin before him, the Vietnamese have preserved the corpse of this impressive leader in a glass coffin under a golden ceiling. Scattered around us were numerous military honour guards, with speared rifles, who enforced fairly strict rules and regulations that visitors must comply with. On three separate occasions we were asked to address our lamentable behaviour of which included talking, for wearing sunglasses indoors and for having our arms behind our backs. This stringent sense of authority and order certainly added to the atmosphere within the grounds.
Hanoi Song of the Day: TLC - Unpretty
Whilst I was eating yet another bowl of delicious Bun Cha at 69 Restaurant in the Old Quarter this superb 90's classic wired itself around my head. So inspiring, such an important challenge to people's perceptions of appearance. I think we all know what T-Boz, Left Eye and Chilli were feeling when they soulfully sung the following verse. You're not alone girls. You're not alone:
Never insecure until I met you / Now I'm bein' stupid / I used to be so cute to me / Just a little bit skinny
i-Pod Song of the Day: Weezer - Say It Ain't So
I fondly recall wasting away hours of the weekend in London with my boys, playing Rock Band maladroitly whilst my friend's neighbours sighed at the Neanderthal styled clubbing of the plastic drums vibrated on their ceiling. Someday I'll sell our version of Creep by Radiohead. My falsetto towards the climax compares favourably with that of Thom Yorke's.
http://http//www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENXvZ9YRjbo
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