One human-sized Red Fox in Hanoi

I wasn't going to include this particular post, since I did other, more exciting things with old firecracker Liz than wander around the sprawling streets of Hanoi. However, I realised I haven't ever - in my life - posted any photographs set in actual Hanoi. So here it is, the dust, the electrical wiring, the traffic and the dreamy architecture (hidden behind the concrete boxes). 

Here is my disclaimer: I really love Hanoi. 

Here is my rant: many of my pals and I agree that as creatures, as little*, soft mammals, with lungs and other organs and pores, Hanoi doesn't feel good. As an animal, you instinctively know you should be getting out as fast as your paws can carry you. The trees do exist, but they are old survivors, trees who have learned to grow around things and through things. The grass is covered with a light film of dust, and you're not allowed on it anyway. The lake is beautiful, but the fish in it are floating, dead and stuffed to the gills with mercury. The air sometimes brings me to sudden and involuntary tears.

* Quite large mammals really, on a size chart of mammals, or perhaps average sized (somewhere between a marmoset and a humpback whale).

So, as much as my intellectual self, disconnected from my body, loves this city and the weird, organic urban sprawl; the people who work in and through the cracks in the system, new neighbours who greet me every time they see me, the rat who shrieks when my bicycle comes around the corner and proceeds to promptly scamper down my alleyway at top-speed (there but for the grace of God go I). I love the way humans have found ways to exist around and on top of each other, and how carefully they manage that space. How conscious they are and how little they intrude on each other. It is seriously an art and it is one which is distinctly foreign for a girl from small-town New Zealand. 

As much as I love all of those things, and know I will always be drawn back to old Hanoi, I'm also sure I would never stay here forever. Carcinogens notwithstanding, the way I felt in the ocean on the coast near Hoi An reminded me that I am not a brain on a stick. I am a mammal, not even always that sentient, and I'd like to frolic. 

Liz dreams of gluten-free trees and crashing waves

Rinse, Home

After my hideous previous post, I thought I should write something else, something that sounds promising, like a lemon cleanse for my blog. I live on an almost-island on the largest lake in Hanoi city. The lake is called Tay Ho, which means 'West Lake', because it is in the West. Ironically, it is also the centre of expat (Westerner, also called: Tays) life. My little island is predominantly Vietnamese, excepting one fantastic bar (passionfruit mojitos!) and the fact I can bike for ten minutes and hit what I refer to as 'expat street' (xuan dieu), where I can buy all the baked goods and imported marmalade my heart desires. 

Meanwhile Yen Phu road (not on the island) is purely Vietnamese madness, and I barely recognize the street depending which time of day I bike down it. Sometimes, it seems to be all clothes shops, then, hours later, there are nothing but noodle stands as far as my less-than-20/20 eyes can see. The shops and stalls seem to open in mutually exclusive shifts, and the street is always packed with more traffic than it was built for and a dizzying array of delightful and absurd temptations. 

Despite this close proximity to nonsense, 'Yen Phu village' itself (the little island) is a blissfully sleepy and quiet reprieve from the horns and dust of Hanoi. When I bike in from a long day teaching, or running errands in Hanoi traffic, I actually feel lighter as I cross over from the Mainland. Especially at night, with the trees full of lights. 

My dreamy, light-swamped and almost eerily quiet apartment is in the inside of this island. If the island was a swimming dugong, I would be sitting near his little smile. 

My Love/ Hate Relationship

Not with Anthony, I just love him (awww!!). No, my love/ hate thing, and it swings dramatically, is with HANOI - City of my dreams, city of my nightmares.

First, my top HATES about Hanoi:

1. The 'unofficial curfew'. Ok, unlike in Communist Laos there is not an actual curfew of 11pm, but everything shuts then and if I wander around the dark, calm evening streets of Hanoi for ten minutes too long and get back to the Guest House at 11:10, say, I am greeted with a hmph and a look which says: Leilana, you are a bad, bad person and I can't believe you keep doing this to our poor, suffering family.

2. If you are walking on the footpath, and a motorbike jumps off the road, onto the footpath and you happen to be in the way - the driver gives YOU a dirty look, instead of the more traditional other way around.

3. Racist fellow teachers and travellers.

4. The Xe Om (motorbike drivers) constantly trying to rip me off with ridiculous fares, sometimes three times the proper fare and then looking pissed off when I pull them up on it.

5. The dead animals everywhere. On my street in the morning, there are baskets and baskets of bloody meat - including whole baby chickens.

Next, and more important, my top LOVES about this city:

1. The food, the food, the food. My favourite two things being: Banh Cuon, which is rice paper pancakes with dried, fried onion and dipping sauce. I eat it almost every day. My other favourite is a glass full of tropical fruit salad, with condensed milk, coconut milk and crushed ice. It's honestly the best dessert I have ever had. Also, I eat Mango like every day.

2. The aesthetic of Hanoi. Everything is so gorgeous and lovingly put together. The clothing boutiques are all like Stir and Belle Bird, but cuter and cheaper (ok, some are actually quite expensive). Houses are weird, narrow and tall. I live on the 5th floor and the guest house only has 8 rooms. Ordinary people, like Xe Om drivers and people working at stalls, dress impeccably in crisp, stylish clothes that make me think of Paris at the turn of the century. Old men especially, walk around in tailored pants, shirts, cute cardigans and leather loafers. I WISH I had a camera so bad.

3. The Xe Oms. Ok, most Xe Om drivers are jerks looking to make a grab and get a grope, but I have a few regulars who I LOVE and who (I think) undercharge me. I love whizzing around Hanoi on the back of a motorbike, I feel like the paragon of awesomeness. Especially because I am usually sitting sidesaddle (this takes some skill), with a cute 50s helmet, my little heels and a black minidress. I look AWESOME.

4. The Bia Hoi, and the Bia Hoi corner. Bia Hoi is a local microbrew beer made fresh every-day, it's only like 2-3% but it also costs: NZ 30 cents and is awesome. There are a few places around, but Bia Hoi corner (also known as International Corner) is where they congregate and you can sit and watch the madness.

5. The fact that just by walking up and down this street a hundred times I have somehow changed from "suspicion-inducing foreigner" to something like acquaintance. Now when people see me they laugh and smile, and introduce me to their babies. This is lovely. Also, the Xe Om drivers seem to be getting a clue and offering me more reasonable fares.

NB: Also, my adorable, hilarious, insane little students, especially my weekday ones. They are the cutest, weirdest little people to walk this earth. Today after class, this little boy who is 6 and hearing impaired, came into the staff room (which I don't think he's supposed to) and sat down beside me and silently held my hand for a few minutes, got up, and left.