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Onto Day 2 in Hanoi, and after breakfast we were collected by our tour guide Ly for a city tour.

The tour began at Huu Tiep Lake – a small little oasis in the middle of the city.  Back in 1972, in the middle of the Vietnam War (here known as the American war), local forces shot down an American B52 bomber.  The plane crash landed in the middle of the lake.

The wreckage was left in the lake and remains there to this day as a poignant reminder.  I did wonder if the wreckage was left for another reason – to send out some message to America?

Following a lap of Huu Tiep Lake, Ly took us through a pop up food market.  I say market, the food was sitting more on the street than any market stall.  There was one person hacking a fish to pieces with a machete.

We tried some of the local produce – something orangy coloured that looked and tasted like a melon, and chunks of ‘pork’ which tasted more like processed chicken than pork.  It was ok.

They were also selling some green oranges (is that not a contradiction?)  Green on the outside but a normal orange on the inside.  We didn’t try any of these, but were told they’re not as sweet as regular oranges.

While walking through some of the back streets, Ly pointed out that people live above their shops.  Think a narrow three story house where the bottom floor has been converted into a shop front.

While stood on a street corner waiting for the bus to come and pick us up, this fancy black car drives past, decorated by flowers and ribbons.  Inside are a newly wedded couple, with the bride chucking money out the open window.  What amazed me was that no one thought to pick it up.  The guide told us that no one would, because the money is to give back to the world, and it would be considered unlucky for anyone to take it.  Basically their version of karma.

The car stopped more or less beside where we were standing, and several locals emerged to congratulate the happy couple (still sat in the car).  Probably they had come back to their local neighbourhood to be congratulated by the community (you know the ones not quite good enough friends to be invited to the wedding).  A few minutes later, a photographer rocked up.

The bride and groom then got out of the car and posed for photographs in front of it.  Someone set off a confetti cannon, which backfired, as the wind carried it away from the couple and into the faces of us stood at the side of the road.

By now my mum (who loves a good wedding) was loving it, and heckling the couple.  The tour guide Ly went over to talk to the bride, and then gestures to us that it’s ok to come over for a photograph.  So here it is…

Not at all awkward!  😬 At least we were well dressed for the occasion.

After that it is time to hop back in the bus and over to Ho Tay (West Lake).  At 5.26 sq. km, this is the largest freshwater lake in Hanoi.

Towering over the shore of the lake, is an 11 storey stacked Buddhist pagoda.  We were brought inside and given a little background to the religion, and building itself.

Inside, I was amazed that beside the ornate idolatry, were pyramids of fresh fruit, and piles of branded biscuit tins.  It felt very out of place for somewhere so sacred.  

Most locals come to the pagoda on the first or last day of the month, so today was mostly tourists. 

In front of the pagoda entrance were more street sellers, this time with a cage of canaries.  Apparently visitors to the pagoda are encouraged to pay to have one set free.  I reckon if the sellers are smart, they’ll have trained the birds to home back so they can repeat the process again.  

Next stop was another yellow building with ‘maison central’ written on the front.  This is no house, but rather Hoa Lo prison – now a museum.  This building dates back to French colonialisation in the early 20th century when Vietnamese political protestors were rounded up and detained.

Rather than barbed wire, the tall perimeter walls are topped with broken glass bottles to stop people escaping.  It didn’t work though as 16 people attempted to dig their way out through tunnels.  5 succeeded.

The prison was very overcrowded during its peak.  The capacity was 600, but as much as 2000 people were often crammed inside. For that reason, it’s nicknamed Hanoi Hilton by locals.  Incidentally I haven’t yet found a Hilton in Hanoi.  I wonder why?

It’s no wonder Christianity isn’t a thing here, when locals associate it with the much hated French colonisation period.  

During the Vietnam War, American prisoners of war were detained here.  These included John McCain, who ran for US president in 2008. 

It’s a very one sided story of the Vietnam War.  Visitors are told how American prisoners were well looked after, while their own people were treated mercilessly by the US.  American POWs held here tell different stories, that they were interrogated and tortured.  

They say time is a great healer, and many ex American prisoners have been back here years later to make peace with the prison officers who tortured them.

Ready for a refreshment, we wanted to try one of the famous Hanoi egg coffees.  Ly recommended Hanoi coffee culture.  Here they gave us a live demonstration on how egg coffees are made, and trust me, this is no yolk!  Ironically, it’s no whites not no yolk when making.  Other ingredients included caramel syrup, honey, condensed milk, brown sugar, a dash of Vodka, mix it up, pour it over the coffee and top with chocolate sprinkles.

Funny enough, I’m not a coffee drinker, so the egg bit was the nicest bit!  The coffee was sooo bitter!  Something like 80% concentration.

Ho Chi Minh is celebrated as the founding father of modern (independent) Vietnam.  Known as Uncle Ho by the locals, when he died in the 1960s, he wanted to be cremated and have ashes scattered in three different locations in Vietnam.  However, the state, indebted to him, overruled and ordered that he be laid to rest in a mausoleum in Hanoi where people could come from far and wide to pay respects and remember him.  

The mausoleum looks like a grey box from the outside, and I couldn’t tell you what it looks like on the inside.  We weren’t going to queue up for an hour to find out.  You can only visit for a couple of hours in the morning, because it turns out that hot temperatures aren’t so good for dead bodies. Who knew?

I noticed there was a man weeding the grass (wearing his pointy hat) and several more people blowtorching the concrete concourse in front of the mausoleum.  They looked like they weren’t there by choice (serving some form of community service).  I asked Ly if this was the case, and she said no, they were probably undercover secret police.

Everyone is so compliant, there was a yellow line saying do not cross, and bar one or two accidental exceptions, nobody was going over it.  Ok there was an officer blowing a whistle anytime someone did, but it didn’t happen that often.  

We also saw a motorcade of important looking cars & limos.  Looked like the Vietnamese and Cuban flags on the front, so wondering if it was a state visit.

Ly gave us the full history of Uncle Ho and communism in Vietnam.  She was almost treading into propaganda territory.  The prisoners we learnt of earlier are lauded as heroes and they dare not criticise communism.  And why should they when it has brought them their independence?

Also, I can see why the pointy hats are so popular, they’re very practical and locals seem to hate the sun.  They all cover up and run for shade.

Behind the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum is the One Pillar Pagoda.  This is another place of serenity in the busy city.  The pagoda looks like a treehouse built on a concrete pillar.  The flying dragon eaves on the pagoda roof bring flashbacks of the traditional architecture in Shanghai.  

This was built in 1049, blown up by the French in the first indochina war, and restored in 1955 following Vietnamese independence.

Beneath the pagoda is a pond topped with lilipads.  I did consider shouting Good Morning Vietnam from the top, but considering others were praying, figured it probably wouldn’t be a wise decision.

After a brief stop back at the hotel to get freshened up, we headed out for dinner via taxi.  In the middle of the journey, the drivers phone rings, and it’s his wife video calling.  He introduces her to us while weaving through the lanes & bikes with millimetre precision.  Quite surreal.

The dinner stop was Ly’s recommendation:  5 Spice.  It was a set menu, which was pretty good (despite the fish).  

I did take one misstep though, by mistaking a lime for a cucumber. 🤢 Also chickened out of the chopsticks.

It doesn’t take much to be a millionaire in Vietnam.  1 million Vietnamese dong is the equivalent of about £31 back home.  For the record, dinner cost 2,178,000 Dong – that’s £67.

Following the meal, we had tickets booked for the Thang Long Water puppets, but first had to walk around 20 mins through the old town.  The place was absolutely hiving.  On one street, every single restaurant was filled to capacity, except for one which was completely empty.  You’d have to be asking questions if you worked in that place!  For the successful ones, waiters were playing a bit of human fishing, trying to lure punters in.

On one corner, a Vietnamese folk band were playing a cover of Despacito.

The Water Puppet show was a brilliant spectacle, even if I hadn’t a clue what was going on.  Probably should have gone for the audio guide on reflection.

This art form dates back to the 11th century, and is the oldest and most popular art form in the country.  There are roughly 500 shows, and 150,000 spectators per year.  

The puppeteers stand waste deep in water behind a screen and operate the puppets on long rods.  They are accompanied by colourful lights and a live traditional band and singers.  

This particular show featured the four sacred animals of Vietnam – the dragon, turtle, unicorn, and phoenix.  (They’re hardly sacred animals if three of them aren’t even real animals).

The Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre is situated beside Hoan Kiem Lake.  There’s more to see there though, so will try to get back during daylight hours.

One last suicide taxi trip through the city and back to bed.  This one had one hand on the wheel, the other permanently hovering on the horn.  

Half way through he decided he was going to start talking to us, but couldn’t understand our English, so whips out his phone and is speaking into it to translate.  Predictably the translation didn’t make one ounce of sense.

Finally for today, I learnt my first bit of Vietnamese.  Thank you in Vietnamese is ‘Cảm ơn’.  Think come on in a jordy accent.