Holy Hanoi!

After spending a few days in the Laos capital, Vientienne, Darren and I boarded a flight with Laos Airlines to make our way to Hanoi!

Something however, went terribly wrong.  No, this doesn't have to do with the fact that Laos Airlines has one of the worst fatality rates of all the Asian airlines (a very comforting fact).  No!  After about an hour of flying, we somehow landed in China.  Yup.  China all over again.  We went from the lovely, oh so quiet and pleasant Laos, where the people are kind and happy to talk to you and help you whenever and however they can despite any language barriers; to, the loud talking, spitting, more-motorcycles-in-one-given-area-then-is-humanly-possible, consistent honking city of... well... look at that... it's not China, it's Hanoi!  Could've fooled me!

But seriously, there are so many motorcycles here it's like watching panick stricken rats running through sewage tunnels trying to escape the oncoming floods-- except there are no floods, just some sort of innate need to get from point A to point B as fast as possible, even if that means riding on the sidewalks and running over small old ladies on their bicycles.  There are so many motorcyclists here that instead of side-street vendors selling souvenirs, they sell helmets.  Helmets that look like Nike baseball hats, Louis Vuitton patterned hats, with Mickey Mouse designs, etc.  I've never seen such fashionable helmets before in my life.  Neither have I ever seen so many men doubling on motorcycles in matching helmets!

After taking over an hour to make our way through the herds of motorists, we very confusedly got out of the airport shuttle with a bunch of other confused tourists, in the middle of a busy intersection, with absolutely no idea where we were.  We did manage to find some street signs which were hiding behind trees, and other, more important banners and signs.  Once we established which busy intersection we fighting off motorcycles on, we still had no idea where we were going.  So we hopped in a taxi and asked him to take us to a hotel (some guy at the airport had given us a brochure for his hotel) and even the driver had no idea where he we were going.  Our driver definitely pulled out his cell phone the minute we told him where we needed to go, saying something in Vietnemese, and I'm pretty sure he was asking for directions.  Once we got to a one way street, he basically told us to get out and walk at which point we discovered that we were still several blocks from where we wanted to be.  Trying to walk through these streets is insane.  There are warnings and instructions in our guide book about crossing the streets here, the last effort being to just find a local and follow him across the street.

So.  Here we are.  Afraid to leave our hotel room and re-enter the mass insanity of the streets of the Old Quarter.  Just hearing the honking seems to raise my stress levels.  I know it's only been two or three months since we were last in China, but I've been spoiled since then with calm and tranquility.   But I can't hide in my air conditioned hotel room, equipped with fridge and satellite television forever... or can I?