As we approached the small but very pretty lake in the very center of the old quarter of Hanoi, a large crowd had gathered at the edge of the lake, a huge fishing net was in large arc from the shore out to the middle of the lake and back to the shore 100 yards away. Hoan Kiem Lake really has only one real resident of note as the water is too brackish and the lake too small to support any fish population. The last golden turtle that survives centuries of Vietnamese history and is the first history lesson taught to Vietnamese children in grammar school was sick and the local official need to trap it to in an to save this iconic representation of the Vietnamese first successful challenge to Chinese domination in the early 15th century. The locals,business men, police, park workers and anyone with a free hand jumped onto the leading strand of the nets to help haul it in. An official will a bill horn standing an a small skiff, barked orders to the scuba divers and the crowed manning the nets. The crowed pulled in a synchronized effort, at once pulling and then gathering the slackened net. The necklace of floats holding the net grew tighter and tighter as the crowd grew more and more excited. Several times the 0ver two hundred pound turtle surfaced briefly to draw air and each time the crowd pointed and shouted. They were helping to save an important part of their history and to see a living embodiment of their past. The turtles was captured and it was examined by the government veterinarians.
Crossing a street in hanoi traffic is one part luck, one part trust and two parts bravery. The shear number of motor bikes and cyclists is nothing short of amazing! Basically you step off the curb, and start to walk taking little rearguard to the motor bikes, trucks and busses heading right toward you. You just have to pray that they will see you and avoid you. There is just to much traffic to expend any effort in trying to avoid it.
On our early walk through Hanoi, the sidewalks were crowded with small stalls consisting of tiny tables and a sprinkling of tiny plastic stools like one might find in an american pre-school. At each, a local was sitting at each having their breakfast called Pho Ti or beef soup.
We arrived at the village of Sai Son just east of Hanoi. Limestone hillocks, craddle the village and its small lake. The colorful homes are reflected in the small lake and a short walk brings us to the Thay Pagoda. A few stalls of street vendors are selling different offerings in the form of food, flowers, small denomination of the Dong, the Vietnamese currency. The pagoda is a treat for all the senses. The incense wafts throughout the pagoda, and the occasional striking of a small gong from one of the pavilions sets a calm mood and the sight of the monks silently padding from one pavilion to the other imbues a sense of calmness and reverence. The hand carved, larger-than life statues of Budha and other revered Buddhist figures fill each of the pavilions along with ceramic statuary and bronze incense holders.
We walked the 4 miles from Sain Son to the busy village of Huu Bang village along the rice paddies, irrigation ditches and above ground cemeteries. It was the antithesis of Hanoi. The rice paddies were a rich green as the new sprouts soaked up the abundant water. Here and there, farmers were bent to their business of planting the rice sprouts and tending to their emerging crop. Two girls in their traditional non (conical) hats we working a small trash dump gleaning out woven rice sacks and other salvageable material. Every look was returned with a smile or a friendly nod. The dirt road that we walked also served as a dike, slowly gave way to the start of Huu Bang village. Soon we had entered the very heart of the village and its crowded main street. The narrow street was barely wide enough fro two mopeds to pass. Various form of commerce where everywhere. The street was exploding with small enterprise of every kind. The small flower vendors shop was shoulder to shoulder with the welder's shop that stood next to the small appliance vendor. School kids, sometimes 4 or five to a motor bike weaved between the petrol vendors and the workers pulling their traditional wooden. To a person, everyone smiled at our curious group as we meandered down the colorful street. Awnings, laundry and cascading plants crowded out the sky and blocked out much of the sunlight. Even the occasional grandmother, her teeth black from the betel nut, smiled and asked to pose with us for pictures. A you boy asked to pose with me while our picture was taken. I put my baseball hat ion his head, he broke out in a huge grin while his buddies laughed. The picture was snapped and a memory was created.
The main road became more and more narrow, the kids who passed us on their bikes all shouted hellos and smiled, we responded with "Sin Xiau". Soon the oglers became the ogled. The traffic came to a halt as the villagers looked at the tall Americans. A few workers were crouched on their haunches and sliced off pieces of sugar cane. A clutch of sugar cane stalks and a sharp cleaver were probably the smallest example of commerce we saw. Two hundred and thirty eight steps up to an 18th century Pagoda brought us to a new island of tranquility and the antithesis of the village below. A real dichotomy of experiences.
The hotel Metropole represents the perfection of French Colonial, fin de siecle architecture. A very cold,very dry martini in the Bamboo bar is an experience far removed from the noisy bustle of downtown Hanoi. A procession of four hotel employees, proceeded from one torch to another, striking the gong as each was flame was lit in the courtyard and around the pool. Two business men were toasting a new closed deal while a pair of newlyweds celebrated a new chapter of their lives at the bar.
We had many choices for restaurants that evening. Hanoi is replete with choices from the offerings of the street vendors to the very opulent "Le Beaulieu". A stop at 14 Cha Ca La Vang in the old quarter of Hanoi is a singularly unique experience. While it is packed with locals there is no need to fear the menu or worry about which dish to try. They are famous for and only serve one dish, the monkfish that you cook at your own table. There may be a wait for a table just don't expect to get your own table.
You may find yourself sitting across from a local or a visitor from another country. The restaurant has been a family business for 4 generations and the whole family is busy cooking, busing tables or setting up the pans of cooking monkfish on the burners on each table. They do not have a lot of time to spend on customer service. But you don't go to the "Grilled Fish" for the service. The monkfish is lightly breaded with a generous amount of turmeric. The cook then starts your dinner by adding the monkfish to a pan of very hot peanut oil then just as the fish starts to cook it is whisked to your table. Soon mom comes along and adds a healthy handful of bean sprouts, chives, bok choi and other greens. You stir the pan as the aroma of fresh fried fish fills the air. While the pan boils, you add some of the rice noodles to your bowl and then spoon on some of the golden monkfish. Add some fresh cilantro, lime, peanuts and a good scoop of fish sauce and grab your chopsticks. The experience is sublime and is not to be missed
