(the ubiquitous) Pho!

When I got to my hotel in Hanoi, it was midnight and AnnLee was tucked in for the night. I'd say I was jetlagged, but because I'd been travelling for 27 hours and the time difference was so extreme, it was more likely I was just confused. I forced myself to go to sleep and woke up around 5:45 ready to start eating my way through Vietnam. We went to breakfast, where I ordered my first bowl of Pho, a dish I would eat approximately 18 times over the next 11 days. Pho is a bowl of white rice noodles in beef broth served with thin, steak-um like strips of cow and is eaten for breakfast, lunch or dinner. It is yummy. My first bowl of it in the hotel was pretty good, but it was my next helping which was most memorable.

At around 9:30 am (lunchtime for me and my fearless friend, annlee), we made our way over to a market in the Old Quarter, where we were surrounded by people selling everything from dragonfruit, to tiny fried crabs, to betel nuts to full roasted dogs (yes, I did say dogs). One stall was packed with people slurping noodles out of bowls and having animated conversation. Because a crowded restaurant means a good restaurant, whether its a brasserie in Soho or a gathering of dirty red plastic stools in Hanoi , we decided it was a good idea to sit down for our second bowl of pho that day.

The stall proprietor proudly handed over the bowls of pho, and we took our first slurps. As delicious as the Pho was on its own, we added some chili paste, which adds a whole other layer of complexity. A man who worked the stall squeezed and dropped kephir limes into our soup, which changed the flavor all over again. Just when we thought it woudln't get any better, our friendly host chopsticked the most flavorful mushrooms I can ever rememeber having into our broth.

This was the first of my taste of Vietnam. Little did I know a bowl of noodle soup would seduce my senses at 9:45 in the morning and awaken my appetite for the next couple of weeks. And all for 42 American cents. God Bless Vietnam.

It's Perilous to be a Pedestrian in Hanoi

If I asked you what you thought the #1 competitive sport in Hanoi is, what would you say?

Badminton?






Noooooooo

That wacky game footbag game with the hackysack with the feather?







Nooooooo


It's - ya ready? Division 1 street crossing. And no, I'm not kidding.

There are currenlty 4 million people in Hanoi and 2 million motorbikes. Now while I can show you some pictures of what that looks like and you can probably assume what it sounds like (if I also told you that liberal use of the horn is highly encouraged and even enjoyed), I could never explain the fear that grips you as you run across a 6 lane street for the first time amidst all those bikers. After my first couple of sprints, a woman pulled me aside and explained that I shouldn't run across the street; rather I should walk slowly and not make eye contact with the motorbikers. Sure enough, when I looked around, all of the locals were blithely strolling their ways from one corner to the next.

So I tried it. I looked straight ahead and stepped off my first curb into the cacophanous traffic. I mustered every ounce of zenlike courage I could and miraculously, the seas parted. The motorbikes streamed their ways around me and I arrived at my destination without harm.

It seems the Vietname respect the deliberate.