In search of Bon Chow

Another night train back to Hanoi, and we're dumped in the city at 4:30 am.

What do tourists do at that time of day?

Not much. We found a free bench (lots of them) on the north end of Hoan Kiem Lake and watched the sun rise. Good photos. Around 5 am we noticed that locals were starting to congregate around us. Mostly older people - older as in between 40-70, I'd say - and they start engaging - in unison - in this odd sort of Communist calisthenics program. I don't know if there is a leader or they just do this routine every morning, but it involves gentle twisting, arm swinging, slapping, etc. Not aerobic per se, but rhythmic and very...I don't know, Communist-masses looking. One tourist tries to join in, but she looks so foolish we don't bother. Instead, we buy an overpriced chocolate bun (like cinnamon roll but with chocolate crumbly stuff instead of cinnamon).

Then a lady switches on her boombox and the masses (or some of them) clump together and start doing what we think is Tai Chi. Graceful, stretchy (though some of them are significantly more graceful than others).

Around 7 am things start to open up. We take a cyclo (bicycle-driven rickshaw type thing for 2 skinny people or one fat one) to the "Temple of Literature." Beautiful old temple-y building, the first university in Vietnam, dedicated to the study of Confucianism. More good photo ops. It's still cool and a bit rainy - so far, it has not been nearly as hot as we predicted, and I'm wearing my one long-sleeved jacket a lot.

We're very proud of ourselves for successfully finding an address in another part of town and managing to book minibus tickets all by ourselves for our future trip to Halong Bay (at end of vacation, just before we fly back). HA! We didn't need a taxi!

So we're flying to Cambodia this afternoon, and trying to find the airport bus. Can't find it. We do find a public bus heading roughly the right direction, or so says the one kid who thinks he speaks English.

An old lady on the bus gestures to the empty seat next to her, and I sit down. Very nice lady. No one on this bus speaks English, but I write the number of the bus and the words "Noi Bai?" (the name of the airport). This brings on a flurry of discussion around us, apparently about the best bus route to take to the airport. The lady points out the window, writes number 17 on my paper, says something urgent to us, and we get pushed off the bus.

Hmm. OK, so back a few hundred yards on the road are some more buses. No number 17 though. We keep walking, and see more and more buses. Finally I see a bus station, where the traffic-directing cop guy asks us a question. I show him my paper with "17" written on it, ask "Noi Bai?" and he points us to a bench where, indeed, there is a sign with Bus 17 Noi Bai written down. Hooray! From here on out, it's easy. The locals make SURE we get on the bus. And off. This whole trip, we're the only non-Vietnamese we see. Awesome!