During the four mornings I spent in the city of Hanoi in-between my jaunts to Halong Bay and Sapa, my favorite part was walking around Hoan Kiem Lake. Being under sunny skies, feeling the winter wind, and being embraced by the twelve-degree Celsius cold was the perfect condition to romp, stomp, and get to know a new city. The occasional showers, which showed up at an interlude of a couple of hours, had me sheltering under the tall trees that surrounded the lake. Otherwise, I would have gone round and round the lake. Sometimes I would walk toward a random street, ending up on another side of the Old French Quarters, but each time I would always follow a path back to Hoan Kiem Lake.
A Walk in the Cold Around Hanoi’s Hoan Kiem Lake | Vietnam
Morning Interludes and Postcards
On my last morning in Hanoi, while walking again around the lake park, a local man approached me and offered me "beautiful ladies knows massage, very good" while motioning a thumbs-up sign to me. Already running on an empty pocket, I settled only on buying a dozen and a half postcards from him. Afterward, I crossed the street and sat at a small cafe, writing down a short note to each postcard recipient from back home. While I was trying to put words into writing on the card about my trip there, I wondered about how long it would be before they received my card. I was quite certain of one thing, though: I needed to sell them the idea that they must visit that city in the future.
Nobody had told me to visit Hanoi; it had forever been in my mind since my childhood fascination with Vietnam War movies. To me, Hanoi was where girls would chase American soldiers and declare "GI number one." It was the retelling of Vietnam's dark history that was etched in my mind that made me so interested in finding out about the modern and peace-time Hanoi, so I could finally have a memory of my own to associate the city with.
From War Movies to Reality
What I saw then was a bustling city that was like a representation of the world. People from all over the globe walked among each other like citizens of this planet ought to exist. There were the smiles and nodding of the head when you made eye contact with them; the locals offering you something to sell who would be delighted and thank you to the high heavens if you bought something, but nonetheless would still give you a smile if you politely begged off from buying.
The cold of the winter had a way of stabbing me; as I walked around and saw couples posing for pre-nuptial photo shoots, I certainly felt a twinge of loneliness. That place was better shared with someone, I thought to myself. That idea quickly vaporized in the freezing mist of the afternoon as I moved my feet forward and felt freedom as I went by and discovered more nooks and crannies of the Old Quarters.
Coffee, Pho, and Endless Walking
The four mornings and afternoons seemed like a week or two, as I had seen a lot and done a lot during that time span. I drank beer in side-street pub houses, had Vietnamese coffee in a number of well-decorated cafes, and warmed myself with hot pho in a long list of sit-down-on-the-sidewalk makeshift noodle stalls. I had an overdose of a visual feast, the same thing with consuming a caffeine overdrive.
Inside bookstores, souvenir shops, and thrift shops, I rummaged my fingers just to surprise myself with what I would find. After that, it was more walking around, feeling the cold, and breathing out fog as the sun shone from above, only to let drizzles of rain fall by late afternoon. During that time, I would feel my fingers starting to get stiff, so I would find a bench, sit down, and do people-watching. One time I walked all the way to the Ho Chi Minh memorial about a few kilometers away, and upon consulting my map, I ended up walking in the opposite direction on my way back.
I backtracked and ditched the map inside my pocket; I just went ahead through narrow and wider streets until I found myself yet again at Hoan Kiem Lake. My feet ached, my heart beat faster, and my breathing was heavy, but all my senses were alive and bursting with the fervor of processing the city, the people, and the experience of knowing Hanoi outside of those Vietnam War films.
Even toward my last remaining hours in the city, I took yet another walk before I boarded the taxi waiting for me in front of the Sihn Tourist Cafe, which was arranged by the colleague of my newfound friend Hoang. Oh, did I tell you she invited me for dinner at her place and hung out with her friends during my first night in Hanoi? That was another great memory I would write about here pretty soon. The winter cold did not bother me, thanks to my double-layered My Philippines Lifestyle jacket; what bothered me, though, was the length of time I would have to wait again to go back to Hanoi.
