Corona, Kidnapping & KFC

Days 3/4

WEDNESDAY started off with me ordering a ‘grab-bike’ (think uber motorbike) & heading into the centre of Hanoi to meet the couple I’d mentioned in my first post (from the Facebook group). We met around 11:30am and had hoped to try some of Vietnam’s famous ‘bahn mi’. It’s like a baguette with different meat fillings; alas it was not meant to be:

So naturally we decided to drown our sandwich sorrows with three cans of Hanoi’s finest. Time currently noon. Despite the fact we had neglected to engage in much of the culture on this particular afternoon we did, at least, decide to sit outside a very pretty cathedral to drink said cans.

This area seems to be a hotbed for Vietnamese newly weds, or so I thought until I was informed about the marriage process here. Apparently couples take their wedding photos before their wedding. Sometimes they’ll pack their tux/dress in a bag, proceed to a scenic location and then get changed for photos!! During my 2-3 cans I must have witnessed at least 4 couples pull up and complete this ritual before progressing into a full blown photoshoot even Terry Richardson would be in awe of.

As I ordered my fourth and final can of the stop I noticed something interesting going on inside the bar. Now bearing in mind I am from Edinburgh I may have a particular bias as to what is going on here… I’ll let you decide for yourself:

After my fourth and final beer with the couple (American + British) we said our farewells & I met up with a South African woman called Michelle. Naturally it was decided the best thing to do would be to have some more drinks. We took a short walk through the streets winding around alleys, past nail-bars, through shops until we arrived at Fat Cat bar. Time 14:30.

Four pints and two mojitos pass. The time is now 18:00. The Fat Car bar was a funny place; reminded me of the types of bars you get in Benidorm. Big cocktail menu, tiki decorations, those annoying wee flies that land in your chips. After attacking the cocktail menu and the flies Michelle & I decided to head to the railway street. This is the famous street in Vietnam where the train passes so close to the bars that you can actually ping your bottle cap off the side of the train and catch it again – surprisingly addictive.

I’d been to the train street on my second night in Hanoi so decided to return to the same bar. The reception & hospitality provided by Vietnamese people is great. It’s different from the false, customer obsessed version we have in the west. It’s slightly more raw and idiosyncratic but 100x more genuine (in my opinion).

Michelle and I sat at the same bar on train street for eight and a half hours. We spoke about life in South Africa, Scotland. We discussed families, politics, Asia, travelling, relationships. I’d never met this person before today & yet it felt like we’d both were supposed to spend that time in that bar speaking about those things. Michelle’s biological parents never raised her. She was conceived in Portugal but born in South Africa to a alcoholic mother & a narcissistic father. Through an agency, she was adopted by her South African parents & lived there for a few years before moving to live in Malaysia for the majority of her early & teen years due to her adoptive fathers work.

Although I’m not adopted and never moved from my hometown during my formative years we had a lot in common. I think it goes to show that your individual experiences can result in feelings that are shared across cultures and continents. We do not have the answers to each other’s worries or questions, but we each had our own experiences and tales to share.

Having sat for the equivalent of a full days work at the bar and feeling rather peckish we decided it best to leave & find some food. After a small walk we stumbled upon a pizza shop adjacent to a bar where locals were enjoying hotpot, beer & some sort of shots outside on the street. This is where the story gets stupid.

After being teased with Corona virus jokes & lots of pointing and laughing we were gestured by the group above (plus some others) to sit with them. We were given local food & shots and sat for around 30mins. Communicating predominantly through gestures, laughs & the occasion google translate phone swap. The time is now 5am.

Our new Vietnamese friends had finished their food & the street bar was starting to pack up. I stupidly decided to translate the word for ‘karaoke’ (which happens to be the same) and then showed it around the group. Everyone understood. Everyone was excited. I was gestured to jump in a car parked directly outside the bar, Michelle jumped on the back of one of our friends scooters and we were told we were off to karaoke.

Now you might be thinking; you irresponsible idiot. You’re probably right. But the thing is this trip is for living, and if you go into every situation with a suspicious view you’re likely to miss out. Plus everyone here is very small & I’m very tall. Confrontation isn’t a thing here, not like in Scotland anyway & I was confident my experiences of being battered in the estate as a teenager would have served as some sort of training for my time in Vietnam. Should anything arise.

We must’ve driven around for about an hour before I realised that the likelihood of a karaoke bar being open at 6am on a Thursday morning seemed a bit ridiculous. I was right. After a few angry faces & a raised voice it was agreed they would take me back to meet Michelle. I was reunited with Michelle about 5 minutes later (the bike had left the bar and went in the opposite direction from me in the car, first suspicious sign). I forgot to mention that as well as being South African, Michelle is also an MMA fighter. This is not a good mix with 16 hours of drinking. Luckily I managed to deescalate the situation (cheers G4S training). I ordered us two grab-bikes and we headed off from our kidnappers north into the night (morning). While on the back of the bike I had ‘Gimmie Shelter’ mentally playing.

Luckily we got back unharmed. I don’t think we were really ever in any danger. Just some teenagers/early 20s messing about with some ‘tourists’. If anything it gave me a few hundred extra words for this post – so cheers guys if you’re reading this!

The afternoon (Thursday) was extremely extremely rough. Hours of drinking, walking and jet-lag will do that you ya. I ordered a KFC – no twister wraps here – ate most of it and then fell asleep again.

I start my English teaching course on Monday & have a lot of work to do before which isn’t the best as I sit here avoiding doing my grammar exercises, fighting the whitey.

You really don’t know what each day holds here. It’s refreshing, scary & at time’s daunting. Would I go back though? No chance.