Day Trippin’

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We like to explore Hanoi and the surrounding villages, especially now that we have 2 motorbikes. Yes, Doug bought a used bike and I rent one. A quick jaunt around town and the breeze can lower your temperature faster than you can say whenthehellwillmypersonalthermostatworkagainmaybeweshouldmovetoiceland.

It’s hot. Hote. Heh.

Recently we signed up for a guided ride as a fundraiser for a local organization that helps foster young girls, called Blossom House, part of Humanitarian Services For Children in Vietnam. It’s a good cause, and we would be escorted to places we might not find on our own. We took off with 20 others, and within 10 minutes, Doug and I were on our own, separated from the group. It’s funny; months before we moved to Vietnam I had a recurring dream. It stemmed from reading about the traffic here, that you enter the stream of motorbikes and swim along like a school of fish; these dreams always devolved to being trapped in the flow, getting parted from each other and not being able to stop or find each other for years (YEARS) because we were unable to exit the flow.

Can you say déjà vu?

We were headed down the highway in a giant glob of motorbikes and cars, aiming for the Nhật Tân Bridge, fondly called the New Bridge because it was finished 2 years ago and links Hanoi to the airport. We’ve never driven motorbikes onto this bridge before.

Turns out the onramp from the road we were on is a left turn, not a right turn. I got stuck in the right side of the mob and couldn’t maneuver over to the left. Swimming. There was a left-turn light for the onramp to the bridge (yay!) but alas, no way to get to it from the right side without cutting across 3 packed lanes of swift-moving traffic which never had to stop because that part of the road continues straight through. I finally did it (oh boy you should’ve heard the horns honking at me) and there was Doug waiting on the bridge for me. Swoon.

The Nhật Tân Bridge feels enormous.

This bridge is 2.5 miles long. After a thrilling, noisy ride across, we realized we had no idea where to turn, and no one was in sight from the group.

Luckily, we had a general idea of where we would rendezvous for lunch, so we spent the morning exploring the villages and their temples along the one-lane rural road. The road is similar to Seattle’s Burke Gilman bike trail except with cows, water buffalo, chickens and goats meandering along the way.

A few hours later, we found the Lại Đà Temple and waited for the group to appear. An enormous wedding surrounded it so the wait was fun. It’s impolite here to take people-photos without their permission, so you’ll have to believe us when we say it was loud, lively and beautifully colorful.

The Lại Đà Temple is in the center of the village.

Carved dragons adorn each corner.  The corners are up-turned to deflect evil spirits.

 

The back door to one of the buildings in the Pagoda complex.

 

The group finally arrived and we all enjoyed this delicious vegetarian lunch at the temple, prepared by the buddhist nuns and monks. Tempura seaweed-wrapped mushrooms, tofu spring rolls (fried and fresh), young bamboo shoot soup, noodle salads, mung bean rice, and lots more. My favorite condiment was a thinly sliced root, fried and spiced, that looked like beef jerky, to sprinkle on everything.

Our lunch sampler.

 

Afterwards we all cleaned up and went our separate ways. Our goal of getting out and exploring was a success.

We passed this mural project, about a mile from our house, on the railway wall. This wall surrounds portions of the Old Quarter.  The artist is holding a paper drawing as her painting guide.

Mural painting on the elevated train track wall.

 

Coffee shop sunset, with a fishing pole attached to the railing.

 

A simple dinner of fried rice, caramelized pork and garlic sautéed  water spinach at neighboring Mậu Dịch.

ra vao đơng cưa

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While sitting in this sweet restaurant, it occurs to us that the only writing we recognize are the numbers on the clock face.  We’ve been here in Truc Bach a week now.  (Yes, it feels longer.)  Our daily life rotates between the inside of our quiet, peaceful, little apartment and outside in what sometimes seems like a non-stop noisy frat party that’s spilled out onto the streets.  Doug likens it to being on acid out there.  (Ummmm…)  Our needs right now are simple.  How to go out and find the one thing we need for the day, how to ask for it, and how much to pay for it.  We’re gleeful when it works, and shrug it off when it doesn’t.   There’s always tomorrow.

For dinner tonight we decided to just walk in somewhere nearby and order without prepping ourselves.  Like the olden days in Seattle.  We must’ve retained some language this week, right?  We think we’ve found a place.  From the outside, it’s sometimes difficult to tell if we’ll be walking into a restaurant or into someone’s private living room.  Everything is intermingled.  From the outside there are signs (which we can’t decipher yet) and scooters parked everywhere.  Signage is common. Some are valid, some are old.  We figure if it’s someone’s living room they’ll yell at us and we’ll quickly and graciously back out, saying “rất xin lỗi.  So very sorry.

Our first hurdle is this sign on the door.  ra van đơng cưa.  Does it say “stay out, private party”  or “come on in” or “leave your pets outside” or “beth and doug don’t you dare come in here” ?   We walk in and stand there.  A big table of people turn to stare at us, and no one returns our smiles.  Not even the children.  They all go back to their loud family dinner. We smile at the woman in the kitchen sitting on a tiny red plastic stool washing the dishes in a plastic tub on the floor, hoping she’ll usher someone out to help us.  She doesn’t smile either.  A little panic starts to well up.  Is it a restaurant?  We think so.  There seem to be a lot of tables.  Then a petite teenager comes out with 2 menus.  Yay!  They’ll let us stay.  The sign must not say “private party”.

We look at the menu, and we look at the chalkboard, and the waiter looks at us.  (You can see where this is going.)   She asks us something and points at the chalkboard.  Uh…hai bia.  2 beers.  While she goes to get them, we confer and try to find a few words that are familiar.  Thịt bò.  Beef.  Rau.  Vegetable.  She delivers the beers and we point at 2 dishes.  She nods and waits.  It seems like enough but why isn’t she leaving?  “Enough?” I ask, then decide to be more clear.  “Good.”  Then  “cảm ơn”.  Thank you.

Whew.

In a very short time, she brings the 2 dishes we ordered.  Sautéed beef with morning glory, and vegetable soup with rice noodles.  Haha,  didn’t know we ordered soup.  Then steamed rice and a little fishy sauce.  Perfect.  And delicious.

We’ve learned that once seated, we can stay as long as we want.  No one will bring the check until called for.  Ever.  There’s no pressure to hurry whatsoever.  It’s becoming very comfortable.  I know that once we have a few more words, the beginning part of this story won’t be repeated quite so much.  In the meantime, we will continue to review the words on the chalkboard and hope to retain some of them for next time.  At home, we sorted out what some of it said:  Today.  Fried frog legs.  Stir-fried perch.  Beef and rice.  Crab hot pot.  Kohlrabi and something.  A spring roll of some sort.  Some of it remains undecipherable.  Blackberries and garlic.  What?  Arcade center?  Bargain?  Dad?

And finally, the sign on the door.  Close door when coming in or out.

 

chalkboard menu