I just spent a rather last minute long weekend in the frenetic capital of Vietnam, my third visit to the country, and second this year! My friend Myles asked me a few weeks ago if I wanted to join him on the trip, and although I was hesitant at first, some expiring air miles coupled with the potential to squeeze in a client meeting ultimately convinced me to move forward with my plans. I am so glad I did, as I was so immediately and completely won over by Hanoi that I’m already trying to figure out a way to return soon.
The day after my birthday, so just a few weeks ago, my friend Myles sent me a message telling me he was thinking to fly to Hanoi for a long weekend in mid-December, and that I should join. Well, I had some air miles that were expiring in early 2020 that I had resigned myself to losing, and when I checked on the Cathay Pacific website, I learned I could redeem them for round trip flights to Hanoi for a mere HKD 700 in taxes. I then spoke to my boss at work and managed to squeeze in an extra day by inserting a client meeting into my schedule.
Myles had grand plans to squeeze in a short side journey up to mountainous Sapa, in the very north of the country, but I decided to spend all of my time in Hanoi. Still we'd get Thursday evening together, plus Saturday night after his return and all day Sunday before flying back first thing Monday.
Myles had grand plans to squeeze in a short side journey up to mountainous Sapa, in the very north of the country, but I decided to spend all of my time in Hanoi. Still we'd get Thursday evening together, plus Saturday night after his return and all day Sunday before flying back first thing Monday.
The hotel and restaurant search was on! Truth be told, I really love researching for an impending trip, reading through guide books and travel websites, narrowing down the options and finally settling on my choices. In this case, I just couldn't decide between the two hotels that had survived to the last cut: the Essence and the Cinnamon Cathedral.
The Essence was highly touted by my beloved Frommer's guide, but the Cinnamon Cathedral had the promise of balconies overlooking the Gothic church that lends the hotel its name. In the end, I just couldn't make a decision. I opted to split my time, with two nights in each place. I settled on the Essence for Thursday and Friday, owing to its proximity to my client meeting and Beer Corner, where I figured I'd probably wind up spending Friday evening. And then I'd switch to the Cinnamon on Saturday afternoon, allowing for an easy wake up to attend mass on Sunday.
The Essence was highly touted by my beloved Frommer's guide, but the Cinnamon Cathedral had the promise of balconies overlooking the Gothic church that lends the hotel its name. In the end, I just couldn't make a decision. I opted to split my time, with two nights in each place. I settled on the Essence for Thursday and Friday, owing to its proximity to my client meeting and Beer Corner, where I figured I'd probably wind up spending Friday evening. And then I'd switch to the Cinnamon on Saturday afternoon, allowing for an easy wake up to attend mass on Sunday.
The days just dissipated, and before I knew it, the trip was upon me! I flew in the early morning on Thursday 12 December, so I pretty much had a full day. I had arranged for the Essence to pick me up at the airport and ferry me directly to the hotel, which made my arrival as easy as pie.
Upon entering the hotel, I was immediately greeted by Maggie, who appointed herself my fairy godmother for my stay in Hanoi. It seems every guest at the Essence is assigned a staff member to reach out to in moments of need, and Maggie helpfully gave me her Whatsapp contact details from the get-go. She made clear that there was nothing too big or too small that she couldn't help out with, from restaurant reservations to sightseeing tips. It was such a welcoming introduction, and I knew I was in great hands with this hotel.
First things first, I dove straight into delicious local food at a Frommer's recommended dining establishment called New Day, only a two minute walk from the hotel's front doors. Feasting on lemongrass chicken and delectable deep friend Hanoi spring rolls in the bare bones dining room, I was so glad I had decided to squeeze in one last trip for the year.
Upon entering the hotel, I was immediately greeted by Maggie, who appointed herself my fairy godmother for my stay in Hanoi. It seems every guest at the Essence is assigned a staff member to reach out to in moments of need, and Maggie helpfully gave me her Whatsapp contact details from the get-go. She made clear that there was nothing too big or too small that she couldn't help out with, from restaurant reservations to sightseeing tips. It was such a welcoming introduction, and I knew I was in great hands with this hotel.
First things first, I dove straight into delicious local food at a Frommer's recommended dining establishment called New Day, only a two minute walk from the hotel's front doors. Feasting on lemongrass chicken and delectable deep friend Hanoi spring rolls in the bare bones dining room, I was so glad I had decided to squeeze in one last trip for the year.
Then I had to get ready for that meeting, which went very well and paid a dividend in the office's location to the storied Metropole Hotel, opened in 1901 and now run by Sofitel and feted to be among the most legendary hotels in Southeast Asia. After my meeting's conclusion, I walked through the hushed corridors of the hotel and even popped by the Bamboo Bar overlooking its tranquil pool.
And then I took my place on the hotel's obligatory sidewalk cafe, called La Terrace, where I had a great view of the zooming motorbikes and pushcabs that crowd the frenetic streets of Vietnam's French-infused capital city.
I ordered an egg coffee, the signature drink of Hanoi, which is said to have been created by a bartender at the Metropole, who later started his own cafe chain peddling his renowned drink. Since milk was in short supply in those days, he replaced it with a thick egg-based custard, beaten into the robusta coffee. And the results are nothing short of dazzling.
As I watched the bustle on the street, sipping on one of the most delightful concoctions I've sampled of late, I was slightly perplexed at why I had waited a full decade to visit Hanoi. With a flight time of a mere hour and half from Hong Kong and a bevvy of cultural, historic and culinary attractions, you'd have thought it would be one of my first stops.
I took a leisurely walk back to my hotel afterwards, along the photogenic lake that dominates the Old Quarter of town, complete with a tiny, temple-clad island and lovers strolling hand-in-hand along the banks.
A short while later, Myles arrived and met me at my hotel. He was actually heading up to Sapa that evening by bus, so we just had time to squeeze in a fantastic dinner and a few beers on my terrace. In fact, to save time, we ate in the Essence's in-house restaurant, currently ranked the number one eatery in Hanoi on TripAdvisor. Thankfully, the unbelievably friendly Maggie managed to get me a prime table for two, and Myles and I were treated to a true feast.
First up was the mango salad, recommended by our waitress over the papaya salad to which my eyes had initially been drawn. Let's just say, her approbation was spot on. The dish was absolutely sensational, crisp and zesty, with tastes of pleasant citrus complemented by plump, fresh shrimp.
As main courses, we shared typical Hanoi-style bun cha and fish wrapped in banana leaf. That bun cha! I totally understand why the city is famous for it, and why even former President Obama sampled the fabled specialty during one of his trips through Southeast Asia.
Bun cha is fairly simple in description but otherworldly in taste. Some fatty grilled pork belly is served alongside stringy rice noodles, complemented with fresh herbs, some pickled vegetables and a tangy fish sauce. You just take a little of each element and fill your bowl. But the straightforward preparation in no way hints at what's awaiting when your chopsticks bring that first morsel to your mouth: pure perfection. It's a complete and utterly flawless marriage of flavors and textures, each element adding something as invaluable as it is indescribable.
Of course, when appetizers and main courses are so memorable, I just can't even contemplate skipping out on dessert, so I ordered a generous helping of deep fried banana spring rolls, accompanied by vanilla sauce to cap off the meal. I know I'd be a regular patron of the Essence Restaurant if I lived in Hanoi. As it is, you can be sure I'll be visiting again on my next trip.
Myles and I enjoyed a few cheeky beers on my balcony overlooking the Old Quarter before taking a quick stroll around. But before long, he had to catch his bus to Sapa, and I returned to my exceedingly comfortable room to get a good night's sleep.
I had an early start on Friday, having booked myself on Vespa Adventures' Insider's Hanoi Tour. I was so impressed with the Insider's Saigon excursion I did back in March that I didn't think twice about sampling its northern sibling. And, boy, what a morning we had!
After picking me up at the Essence, we zipped around a few corners to arrive at Saint Joseph's Cathedral, where I met Sue, my co-tourist, and Phoebe, our guide. We sipped local coffee overlooking the magnificent church as we got a pre-ride briefing on what was to follow.
For the rest of the morning, we zigzagged all over town, across the iconic Long Bien Bridge crossing the Red River, to a small pond where the remains of an American B-52 crashed during the war, to a kumquat farm on the outskirts of the city.
And some of the most fun to be had was simply cruising about from one sight to the next, observing all the action on the packed streets. At one point, we even zoomed past a fellow motorcyclist carrying a box full of chickens on the back of his bike. My driver dutifully slowed down as we passed to allow me to capture the moment on my iPhone.
After freshening up back at the Essence following the ride, I made my way to Hoa Lo, one of Hanoi's most notorious sites. Originally a jail called Maison Centrale, constructed by the French colonialists to incarcerate Vietnamese political prisoners, it gained worldwide attention during the Vietnam War, when American pilots like John McCain were locked within its walls. Trying their best to keep a sense of humor, they nicknamed the place the Hanoi Hilton, a name by which it is still known to this very day. Now a museum covering both periods, Hoa Lo is one of the city's foremost attractions.
Surprisingly, the architecture itself is downright gorgeous, a beautiful old building full of graceful French touches. It's hard to reconcile the tranquility of the facade with the sadness that took place both during the colonial days and, especially, during the war.
One of the more, shall we say, interesting aspects of the museum is the notable distinction between the descriptions of the horrific treatment of the Vietnamese prisoners by the French alongside very pleasant portrayals of their own treatment of the American prisoners of war. Propaganda's a hell of a drug, but as an American well versed in stories of what actually happened here, I was shocked to read blurbs summarizing the peaceful, amusing day-to-day activities supposedly enjoyed by McCain and others.
After Hoa Lo, I meandered over to a second attraction I was keen to visit, the Vietnam Women's Museum, chronicling the role the gentler sex has played in the country's story. From fashion to farming, motherhood to munitions, cuisine to crafts, pregnancy to propaganda, the exhibits told of the rich contributions women have made to Vietnamese society.
After checking off these two museums, I decided to explore the city in a more in-your-face manner, wandering back to the Old Quarter while deliberately avoiding my hotel, so as to see the oh-so colorful side streets and back alleys that surround it.
I wound up getting pretty disoriented, but I loved every minute of my stroll. I passed markets peddling millions of strands of Christmas lights and saw dozens of hotels catering to every class of tourist. I nimbly avoided hundreds of motorbikes and snapped photos of scores of arresting buildings.
As evening descended upon Hanoi, I had to enlist my iPhone to get me back to the Essence, so that I could change for dinner. For my one completely solo evening, I had splurged and booked a table at the Club de L'Oriental, a swanky restaurant highly touted by my Frommer's guide. Tucked down a side street radiating off the iconic Opera House, the Club exudes elegance from its dramatic entry through its eye-catching interiors.
Every dish I ordered that night was sensational, and sitting at the counter opening upon the open kitchen gave me a front row seat overlooking the artistry on display. I started things off with a kir, before seguing into incredibly tasty fresh spring rolls, soft shell crab in tamarind sauce, cinnamon pork and, finally, for dessert, a flaming mango!
By Hanoi standards, I guess I paid a pretty penny for that meal, but I'm sure I'll be returning to the Club de L'Oriental on any future visit to the Vietnamese capital. I am a firm believer that to truly experience a city, you must explore the gamut of offerings available, from the humblest street stalls to the ritziest fine dining establishments. And that evening, I certainly took care of the latter!
Having had an incredibly full day, I couldn't have cared less about Beer Street's proximity to the Essence. After a stroll back, I went straight up to my incredibly comfortable suite and became one with the mattress, quickly drifting off into the best night's sleep I've enjoyed in recent memory.
The next morning, Saturday, I was alert and chipper from the moment I opened my eyes. It was early, so I took the opportunity to visit Ho Chi Minh's iconic mausoleum, reckoning that I could beat the crowds.
I was wrong.
As I approached the gates, my jaw dropped upon seeing the length of the line, which disappeared around a corner hundreds of feet in the distance. To my further shock, when I rounded that corner, I saw that the line continued far longer than I could have imagined. Still, I gamely jumped on the end of it, as we slowly snaked our way towards the crypt.
I'll never forget the wait. Not because it was painfully long, nor because it zipped by quicker than expected. But because I was in the midst of thousands—I am not exaggerating, thousands!—of adorable Vietnamese school children who were on some sort of class pilgrimage to the mausoleum, and kept smiling and waving and high five-ing me as we lurched forwards.
"Hello! Hellooooooo!"
"How are you?!"
"Where are you from?"
"Hiiiii!"
Their squeals of delight at seeing the few foreigners in the crowd were infectious. Some of the chaperones tried to make the kids understand the somber mood that was expected of them in such an important place. But after awhile, most seemed to give up and let them continue their chucklesome interactions.
Since I was having so much fun mingling with these kids, I couldn't really tell you how long it took before I was filing past the embalmed body of the controversial leader of Vietnam. All I know is that the whole experience made for a memorable morning.
I was starving by the time I had returned to the Essence, so I took Maggie up on her offer to recommend a good place for a steaming bowl of pho bo. She did not disappoint. A few quick turns off the main road of the Old Quarter and I was seated in the tiniest hole in the wall, where I was soon chowing down on a heavenly breakfast for a handful of pennies.
Next up was a visit to the original branch of the creator of the egg coffee, Cafe Giang, also walking distance from my hotel! This place seems to be on every tourist's Hanoi radar. As I entered the cacophonous establishment, I couldn't find a free seat scattered among the multiple floors! Luckily, I quickly spied two young ladies about to depart and surreptitiously nabbed their table before ordering the house specialty. It did not disappoint.
By this point, my brief time at the Essence was coming to an end, as it was nearing the noon check out time. Since I still had a few hours before I could check in at my next hotel, I filled the gap with lunch. Perhaps it wasn't strictly necessary after such a late breakfast. But it was a pitch-perfect meal, again sanctioned by ever-trustworthy Frommer.
The Green Tangerine is housed in a glorious colonial stunner of a mansion, lovingly restored, with both indoor and outdoor seating. They specialize in French cuisine imbued with telltale local influences. There's some mighty creative cooking taking place in the kitchen, and I can assure you that a dinnertime visit to this incredible place is undoubtedly in the cards on my next visit to Hanoi.
It was not difficult to make my way to the Cinnamon Cathedral on foot, although I did walk past the nondescript entrance without realizing it at first. I was greeted by a friendly receptionist who couldn't seem to locate my reservation. A few moments later, an even friendlier employee entered, introducing himself as Lee. The two staff members huddled for a moment, she whispering to him, as they both stole furtive glances in my direction before quickly looking away.
After a moment or two, Lee approached me, apologized profusely, and told me that through some misunderstanding with Agoda, they had not properly noted my arrival date. Thus, although they had a place for me to stay, it was not the cathedral-fronting deluxe room I had booked—and paid for—but rather a simpler room. However, Lee assured me they could move me to my desired accommodation for my second night.
I wish I could say that I was reasonable and affable throughout this slightly disappointing experience. But I wasn't. I was oh-so looking forward to my view of the church, and had even come prepared with beer, so I made clear my frustration and anger.
Lee took me up to the available (and, I must add, perfectly charming) room, where I did my best to display my wrath via mannerisms and speech. I even called the Agoda help line to escalate my displeasure to a higher power and, to be honest, to cause trouble for somebody.
God bless Lee for his patience. He showed up back at my room with several supplemental bottles of beer as a peace offering, informing me that he'd also arrange for me to have a free dinner on him that evening. He assured me that he'd refund the difference in cash between the room I had initially booked and the room I wound up occupying. And that my belongings would be whisked to my actual room as early as possible the next day. And he was so calm throughout all of this.
I felt like such an idiot once the whole situation had calmed down and I returned to my normal temperament. Here I was in Hanoi for only a few days, and I was wasting so much time making a mountain out of a mole hill. Nobody had done anything deliberately malicious, and all I really needed was a place to sleep and leave my bag while I was out exploring. In the grand scheme of things, this was a whole lot of nothing.
In the midst of my self-inflicted stupidity, God sent me a clearer sign. I received a Whatsaspp message from Linh from Vespa Adventures asking I would be interested in being their guinea pig the following morning on a new sunrise tour of the city. As a two-time return customer, they would value my feedback and also planned to shoot some promotional video to eventually upload on their website.
In one of those wham moments, everything fell back into perspective. I was taught a valuable lesson. I realized what a mean-hearted fool I had been a few moments afore. So I accepted Linh's flattering invitation, but, more importantly, I also accepted Lee's heartfelt apology. And I admitted to him that it was really me who now owed an apology to him for my lack of understanding earlier. He smiled and we shook hands, clinching a friendship.
To reinforce the message, almost immediately upon exiting the hotel to further chart the quarter, I was approached by two extremely friendly local kids who were doing a survey about visitor knowledge of the hulking church. They asked me questions about its history and taught me how to say "Merry Christmas" in Vietnamese. They concluded by asking if we could all take a photo together, which, of course, we did. (Two girls, also part of their group who were off seeking other participants, suddenly materialized, along with their English teacher.)
It was such a lovely little moment, and I was instantly smacked with the realization that I had really been a jerk to the staff at my hotel. I hope the lesson will stick with me forever, and that if a similar situation ever arises again, I'll remind myself to be understanding and lenient, even if I am little displeased with how things have turned out.
I continued reflecting during a beer break on a charming balcony bar overlooking the church. So what if my hotel room didn't have a private terrace (yet). I'd found a suitable alternative a few feet away.
Returning to the hotel, I apologized profusely to Lee, and he couldn't have been nicer. When it came time for dinner, he walked me a few doors down the street to an associated hotel with a famous restaurant. They brought me out an enormous platter chock full of local delicacies, all of which were truly delicious.
After dinner, I reunited with a returned Myles, and we swapped stories about our respective adventures over the past forty-eight hours. Eventually, we made our way to Beer Street, where we linked up with friends of his who were also in town, as a constant parade of revelers filed past. I'm sure you can probably guess that it turned into something of a late night, including a stop at one uber-cool bar where Sunset Boulevard was playing on the television. What a random finish to a full day.
I must confess, it was more than a little difficult to open my eyes at 5:15am that next morning to the sound of my alarm. But I hadn't given myself much time, so the snooze button wasn't an option. I had to quickly prepare for the Vespa Adventures sunrise tour.
The itinerary for the morning included several stops I had already seen, but with the novelty of visiting at that magical hour when things are just starting to wake up. In fact, it was still pretty dark when things kicked off.
We began at the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum for the daily flag raising ceremony, a solemn event with a lot of precision marching and military-style music. Our timing was a little off, as we had to wait around twenty-five minutes before the action began, but that's part of the reason why Vespa Adventures was experimenting on us. When the tour is ready to be formally rolled out for paying participants, I imagine they may be able to push the pick up time back to 6am, which will hopefully encourage more tourists to give it a shot than the scary-sounding 5:30am start we agreed to!
Afterwards, we headed back to the Long Bien Bridge, where another photogenic locomotive barreled by as we took in the early morning action of the scene. We followed this up with a memorable cruise around the Old Quarter, an early morning market visit, breakfast (ironically at the same place Lee had arranged for me to dine the night before) and a final stop at a cafe for the local coffee variety of our choosing.
I feel so lucky to have been among the very first visitors to experience this special tour. And I have a feeling the Hanoi Sunrise Tour will one day be a very popular offering!
After filming our closing interviews, my Vespa driver whisked me back towards my hotel, where I had arranged to meet Myles in front of the cathedral so we could attend Sunday mass. (Myles had been invited to join me on the tour, but decided he'd rather sleep in on his holiday.) The entire Advent service was in French, and it was undeniably beautiful, as we sang along with the hymns and I tried my best to understand the message of the priest's lengthy sermon.
Next up was Train Street. Any Google search of what to do in Hanoi inevitably leads to Train Street, the unofficial name given to Ngo 224 Le Duan, a narrow alleyway overlooked by tenements on both sides, where—for some inexplicable reason—the colonial French administrators decided to place railways tracks nearly touching the buildings. A couple of times each weekday, and many times on Saturdays and Sundays, a barreling locomotive roars down the alley, where dozens of intrepid restaurateurs have set up open-air cafes overlooking the spectacle.
Each passing of a train has become so popular, in fact, that the authorities have just recently started shutting things down. Instagrammers ruin everything. Too many people have refused to stay safely on the sidelines and have gone so far as to stand directly on the tracks as the train approached, trying to get the best shot of the undeniably photogenic show. Apparently, there have been a few close calls, with conductors just barely avoiding hitting tourists.
It seems only about two or three cafes offering front row seats are still open, and how much longer they will remain in business is an unanswered question. (I can guess how they've managed to stay around so far.) Policemen sit at the few access points blocking entry to the street, a stern refusal bellowed intimidatingly as Myles and I approached. However, I pointed to a restaurant that was open and clearly had availability and made eye contact with the owner, who motioned to us to approach.
We gestured to the guards, without a word, and, pointing to the lady, implied that we had pre-arranged all this. And, suddenly, the guards let us pass. (We later witnessed some hopeful tourists flat out denied entry, even though seats remained unoccupied in the cafe.)
After a few beers, the big moment arrived. Everybody rose from their chairs and got as close as possible without actually trespassing onto the tracks, and all of a sudden—whistle blaring—the train chugged by.
Was it the coolest thing I've ever witnessed? Not by a long shot. But it was certainly a quirky attraction, and I'd gladly sit through it again. Here's hoping the authorities find a way to curtail disruption and ensure safety while still allowing respectful visitors an opportunity to experience the iconic scene.
We had a quick coffee overlooking the cathedral before checking out one of Maggie's top lunch recommendations in the Old Quarter, a local fish specialty called cha ca, at a restaurant simply called Cha Ca Thang Long.
There's only one thing on the menu at the place, that iconic sizzling river fish grilled in the middle of your table in a blend of Vietnamese spices like turmeric, dill and spring onions. Coupled with a delicious sauce, peanuts and rice noodles, cha ca was yet another culinary highlight of the trip.
Having not ridden one of the innumerable pushcabs that crowd the streets, Myles and I negotiated with a driver to bring us to our next destination, the stunning Temple of Literature, once Vietnam's premier higher learning institution which thrived for over seven hundred years.
In addition to seeing the ancient temple built in 1070, visitors today experience the tranquility and loveliness of a series of courtyards the once served as the entrance to the university. Perhaps most memorable is a collection of around eighty steles, noting the names and birthplaces of those exemplary students who, between 1484 and 1780, achieved the highest marks on the institution's famously grueling examinations.
There were lots of students around, wandering the grounds and posing for pictures, because it seems this is considered a most auspicious spot for those with upcoming exams to visit for luck, in addition to a place where those who have recently performed well on such tests to commemorate their achievements in photographic form.
A second lunch at a Frommer's-recommended eatery overlooking the temple was perhaps unnecessary from hunger's perspective, but it couldn't have been more welcome. The restaurant is called KOTO, which stands for "Know One, Teach One." The idea is that underprivileged Vietnamese youths are trained here in the art of hospitality, and, once they have attained a certain level of skill, they are granted a certification which can help take them forward in careers in hotels and restaurants around the world.
We walked back to the Old Quarter afterwards, where Myles wanted to nap in his hotel and I wanted to enjoy a few beers on my new balcony, since Lin and his team had moved my belongings to the room I had originally booked at the Cinnamon Cathedral.
It was Sunday, you recall, so there were church services going on as I plopped down and cracked open a cold Hanoi Beer. The voices of a children's choir were flowing across on a light breeze, competing with the sound of motorbikes and car horns that are so ubiquitous in this town. At regular intervals, resounding bells were rung. The balcony was studded with greenery, and I just loved my little interlude.
Tempting as it was to just linger in my small paradise, it was our last night in town, and there were several things left to check off my itinerary. Foremost among these was a performance of the legendary Hanoi water puppets. I'd been hearing about these magical stagings for years, and it was probably the number one item on my Hanoi to do list.
Myles and I snagged some of the best seats in the house, in the second row. We were so close to the action that you could appreciate all the details. The puppeteers, behind a curtain and using long rods to steer their colorful alter egos, told age-old Vietnamese tales while musicians played instruments and sang traditional tunes to accompany the stories.
It was, quite simply, one of the most breathtaking artistic productions I've ever seen, and I think it should top every visitor's must visit list when in Hanoi. When the entire crew emerged waste-deep in the water at the conclusion of the performance, I couldn't have been more boisterous in my applause.
We popped up to a rooftop bar afterwards for a quick beer, looking out over the lake and the twinkling lights of the city. Then, of course, it was time for more food!
Another highly-touted Hanoi eatery I wanted to check out was called Highway 4, only a few minutes' walk from the rooftop bar. Truth be told, after breakfast and two lunches, neither Myles nor I were particularly hungry. But I wasn't passing up the chance for a final dinner in a city that had really wowed me with its culinary accomplishments. And let's just say, Highway 4 might have been the best spot of all!
Taking Vietnamese dishes and putting a modern spin on them, the chefs at this homey, bric-a-brac-filled restaurant created some of the best foodie memories of my trip. Think wasabi and catfish spring rolls, snail meatloaf with local spices wrapped and cooked in tin foil, shredded smoke buffalo meat with a spicy sauce... Even a season-appropriate turkey dish that flawlessly meshed a Western Christmas tradition with plenty of Vietnamese flavor! I snapped a photo of every course, something I'm rarely induced to do.
And to wash it all down with a pho-flavored beer, just sealed the deal. I saved the empty bottle to add to a row of memorable brews lined proudly in my Happy Valley kitchen. On any trip back to Hanoi, I'll certainly pay a repeat visit to Highway 4. But, then again, I would probably say that about every place I ate over that long weekend.
Last on my list of must dos was a visit to a famous local live music venue called Binh Minh Jazz Club. It was about a fifteen minute jaunt from the restaurant, and I deliberately tried to walk down streets I'd left unexplored up to this point, so as to see a bit more of the city as the night slipped away. And soon, we had arrived at the jazz club of your dreams. With its moody neon sign and appreciative patrons, the atmosphere inside was surreal.
But when a young man came on stage and sang the first few words of "Imagination," I really believed I was sitting in a smokey Chicago cafe back in the 1940s. Thanks God there are places like the Binh Minh still hanging on.
To add to the Christmas mood that started with the turkey at dinner, he performed "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" and "Let It Snow," both of which were absolutely stellar. This guy just had such a winning voice, sensitive, a bit wistful, with plenty of character. He was kind of like a mix between Chet Baker and Billie Holiday, and I'll never forget his two sets.
After this, there was little more than a homeward moonlit stroll, passing the opera house and the Metropole one last time. When I got back to the hotel, I made a point to savor a few final moments on my balcony, the hulking, dark silhouette of the cathedral dim in the black night.
At the airport that next morning, I lingered over a last egg coffee before heading to my gate. The jet was pretty empty as we sat on the runway, awaiting take off. With no seat neighbors with whom I could make small talk, and no in-fight entertainment screen to distract me, my mind turned, instead, to the realization that this weekend's trip was my last overseas journey of the 2010s.
A decade that started in January of that year with a quick, last minute weekend away in Manila, the capital of the Philippines, and concluded now in December of 2019 with a quick, last minute weekend away in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam. Bookended within these markers, a whole litany of travel memories began popping up, in Asia and beyond.
Zippy jaunts and multi-week extravaganzas; returning to places I've come to know well and exploring far-flung destinations to which I have not yet been fortunate enough to return. India. Egypt. Mexico. Burma. The London Olympics. The Fete des Vignerons. The seemingly endless Bangkok work-holidays. The weddings across multiple continents. The business trips to some of the world's most frenetic metropolises. And also the sleepy villages I've managed to escape to, on occasion. Savannakhet and Patzcuaro and Tanjung Pinang and Sion. And, it hardly needs to be mentioned, all the people I've met in these wonderful destinations, some who made fleeting but memorable cameos in my life's adventures, and others who have become real friends.
First up was the mango salad, recommended by our waitress over the papaya salad to which my eyes had initially been drawn. Let's just say, her approbation was spot on. The dish was absolutely sensational, crisp and zesty, with tastes of pleasant citrus complemented by plump, fresh shrimp.
As main courses, we shared typical Hanoi-style bun cha and fish wrapped in banana leaf. That bun cha! I totally understand why the city is famous for it, and why even former President Obama sampled the fabled specialty during one of his trips through Southeast Asia.
Bun cha is fairly simple in description but otherworldly in taste. Some fatty grilled pork belly is served alongside stringy rice noodles, complemented with fresh herbs, some pickled vegetables and a tangy fish sauce. You just take a little of each element and fill your bowl. But the straightforward preparation in no way hints at what's awaiting when your chopsticks bring that first morsel to your mouth: pure perfection. It's a complete and utterly flawless marriage of flavors and textures, each element adding something as invaluable as it is indescribable.
Of course, when appetizers and main courses are so memorable, I just can't even contemplate skipping out on dessert, so I ordered a generous helping of deep fried banana spring rolls, accompanied by vanilla sauce to cap off the meal. I know I'd be a regular patron of the Essence Restaurant if I lived in Hanoi. As it is, you can be sure I'll be visiting again on my next trip.
Myles and I enjoyed a few cheeky beers on my balcony overlooking the Old Quarter before taking a quick stroll around. But before long, he had to catch his bus to Sapa, and I returned to my exceedingly comfortable room to get a good night's sleep.
After picking me up at the Essence, we zipped around a few corners to arrive at Saint Joseph's Cathedral, where I met Sue, my co-tourist, and Phoebe, our guide. We sipped local coffee overlooking the magnificent church as we got a pre-ride briefing on what was to follow.
For the rest of the morning, we zigzagged all over town, across the iconic Long Bien Bridge crossing the Red River, to a small pond where the remains of an American B-52 crashed during the war, to a kumquat farm on the outskirts of the city.
And some of the most fun to be had was simply cruising about from one sight to the next, observing all the action on the packed streets. At one point, we even zoomed past a fellow motorcyclist carrying a box full of chickens on the back of his bike. My driver dutifully slowed down as we passed to allow me to capture the moment on my iPhone.
After freshening up back at the Essence following the ride, I made my way to Hoa Lo, one of Hanoi's most notorious sites. Originally a jail called Maison Centrale, constructed by the French colonialists to incarcerate Vietnamese political prisoners, it gained worldwide attention during the Vietnam War, when American pilots like John McCain were locked within its walls. Trying their best to keep a sense of humor, they nicknamed the place the Hanoi Hilton, a name by which it is still known to this very day. Now a museum covering both periods, Hoa Lo is one of the city's foremost attractions.
Surprisingly, the architecture itself is downright gorgeous, a beautiful old building full of graceful French touches. It's hard to reconcile the tranquility of the facade with the sadness that took place both during the colonial days and, especially, during the war.
One of the more, shall we say, interesting aspects of the museum is the notable distinction between the descriptions of the horrific treatment of the Vietnamese prisoners by the French alongside very pleasant portrayals of their own treatment of the American prisoners of war. Propaganda's a hell of a drug, but as an American well versed in stories of what actually happened here, I was shocked to read blurbs summarizing the peaceful, amusing day-to-day activities supposedly enjoyed by McCain and others.
After Hoa Lo, I meandered over to a second attraction I was keen to visit, the Vietnam Women's Museum, chronicling the role the gentler sex has played in the country's story. From fashion to farming, motherhood to munitions, cuisine to crafts, pregnancy to propaganda, the exhibits told of the rich contributions women have made to Vietnamese society.
After checking off these two museums, I decided to explore the city in a more in-your-face manner, wandering back to the Old Quarter while deliberately avoiding my hotel, so as to see the oh-so colorful side streets and back alleys that surround it.
I wound up getting pretty disoriented, but I loved every minute of my stroll. I passed markets peddling millions of strands of Christmas lights and saw dozens of hotels catering to every class of tourist. I nimbly avoided hundreds of motorbikes and snapped photos of scores of arresting buildings.
As evening descended upon Hanoi, I had to enlist my iPhone to get me back to the Essence, so that I could change for dinner. For my one completely solo evening, I had splurged and booked a table at the Club de L'Oriental, a swanky restaurant highly touted by my Frommer's guide. Tucked down a side street radiating off the iconic Opera House, the Club exudes elegance from its dramatic entry through its eye-catching interiors.
Every dish I ordered that night was sensational, and sitting at the counter opening upon the open kitchen gave me a front row seat overlooking the artistry on display. I started things off with a kir, before seguing into incredibly tasty fresh spring rolls, soft shell crab in tamarind sauce, cinnamon pork and, finally, for dessert, a flaming mango!
By Hanoi standards, I guess I paid a pretty penny for that meal, but I'm sure I'll be returning to the Club de L'Oriental on any future visit to the Vietnamese capital. I am a firm believer that to truly experience a city, you must explore the gamut of offerings available, from the humblest street stalls to the ritziest fine dining establishments. And that evening, I certainly took care of the latter!
Having had an incredibly full day, I couldn't have cared less about Beer Street's proximity to the Essence. After a stroll back, I went straight up to my incredibly comfortable suite and became one with the mattress, quickly drifting off into the best night's sleep I've enjoyed in recent memory.
The next morning, Saturday, I was alert and chipper from the moment I opened my eyes. It was early, so I took the opportunity to visit Ho Chi Minh's iconic mausoleum, reckoning that I could beat the crowds.
I was wrong.
As I approached the gates, my jaw dropped upon seeing the length of the line, which disappeared around a corner hundreds of feet in the distance. To my further shock, when I rounded that corner, I saw that the line continued far longer than I could have imagined. Still, I gamely jumped on the end of it, as we slowly snaked our way towards the crypt.
I'll never forget the wait. Not because it was painfully long, nor because it zipped by quicker than expected. But because I was in the midst of thousands—I am not exaggerating, thousands!—of adorable Vietnamese school children who were on some sort of class pilgrimage to the mausoleum, and kept smiling and waving and high five-ing me as we lurched forwards.
"Hello! Hellooooooo!"
"How are you?!"
"Where are you from?"
"Hiiiii!"
Their squeals of delight at seeing the few foreigners in the crowd were infectious. Some of the chaperones tried to make the kids understand the somber mood that was expected of them in such an important place. But after awhile, most seemed to give up and let them continue their chucklesome interactions.
Since I was having so much fun mingling with these kids, I couldn't really tell you how long it took before I was filing past the embalmed body of the controversial leader of Vietnam. All I know is that the whole experience made for a memorable morning.
I was starving by the time I had returned to the Essence, so I took Maggie up on her offer to recommend a good place for a steaming bowl of pho bo. She did not disappoint. A few quick turns off the main road of the Old Quarter and I was seated in the tiniest hole in the wall, where I was soon chowing down on a heavenly breakfast for a handful of pennies.
Next up was a visit to the original branch of the creator of the egg coffee, Cafe Giang, also walking distance from my hotel! This place seems to be on every tourist's Hanoi radar. As I entered the cacophonous establishment, I couldn't find a free seat scattered among the multiple floors! Luckily, I quickly spied two young ladies about to depart and surreptitiously nabbed their table before ordering the house specialty. It did not disappoint.
By this point, my brief time at the Essence was coming to an end, as it was nearing the noon check out time. Since I still had a few hours before I could check in at my next hotel, I filled the gap with lunch. Perhaps it wasn't strictly necessary after such a late breakfast. But it was a pitch-perfect meal, again sanctioned by ever-trustworthy Frommer.
The Green Tangerine is housed in a glorious colonial stunner of a mansion, lovingly restored, with both indoor and outdoor seating. They specialize in French cuisine imbued with telltale local influences. There's some mighty creative cooking taking place in the kitchen, and I can assure you that a dinnertime visit to this incredible place is undoubtedly in the cards on my next visit to Hanoi.
It was not difficult to make my way to the Cinnamon Cathedral on foot, although I did walk past the nondescript entrance without realizing it at first. I was greeted by a friendly receptionist who couldn't seem to locate my reservation. A few moments later, an even friendlier employee entered, introducing himself as Lee. The two staff members huddled for a moment, she whispering to him, as they both stole furtive glances in my direction before quickly looking away.
After a moment or two, Lee approached me, apologized profusely, and told me that through some misunderstanding with Agoda, they had not properly noted my arrival date. Thus, although they had a place for me to stay, it was not the cathedral-fronting deluxe room I had booked—and paid for—but rather a simpler room. However, Lee assured me they could move me to my desired accommodation for my second night.
I wish I could say that I was reasonable and affable throughout this slightly disappointing experience. But I wasn't. I was oh-so looking forward to my view of the church, and had even come prepared with beer, so I made clear my frustration and anger.
Lee took me up to the available (and, I must add, perfectly charming) room, where I did my best to display my wrath via mannerisms and speech. I even called the Agoda help line to escalate my displeasure to a higher power and, to be honest, to cause trouble for somebody.
God bless Lee for his patience. He showed up back at my room with several supplemental bottles of beer as a peace offering, informing me that he'd also arrange for me to have a free dinner on him that evening. He assured me that he'd refund the difference in cash between the room I had initially booked and the room I wound up occupying. And that my belongings would be whisked to my actual room as early as possible the next day. And he was so calm throughout all of this.
I felt like such an idiot once the whole situation had calmed down and I returned to my normal temperament. Here I was in Hanoi for only a few days, and I was wasting so much time making a mountain out of a mole hill. Nobody had done anything deliberately malicious, and all I really needed was a place to sleep and leave my bag while I was out exploring. In the grand scheme of things, this was a whole lot of nothing.
In the midst of my self-inflicted stupidity, God sent me a clearer sign. I received a Whatsaspp message from Linh from Vespa Adventures asking I would be interested in being their guinea pig the following morning on a new sunrise tour of the city. As a two-time return customer, they would value my feedback and also planned to shoot some promotional video to eventually upload on their website.
In one of those wham moments, everything fell back into perspective. I was taught a valuable lesson. I realized what a mean-hearted fool I had been a few moments afore. So I accepted Linh's flattering invitation, but, more importantly, I also accepted Lee's heartfelt apology. And I admitted to him that it was really me who now owed an apology to him for my lack of understanding earlier. He smiled and we shook hands, clinching a friendship.
To reinforce the message, almost immediately upon exiting the hotel to further chart the quarter, I was approached by two extremely friendly local kids who were doing a survey about visitor knowledge of the hulking church. They asked me questions about its history and taught me how to say "Merry Christmas" in Vietnamese. They concluded by asking if we could all take a photo together, which, of course, we did. (Two girls, also part of their group who were off seeking other participants, suddenly materialized, along with their English teacher.)
It was such a lovely little moment, and I was instantly smacked with the realization that I had really been a jerk to the staff at my hotel. I hope the lesson will stick with me forever, and that if a similar situation ever arises again, I'll remind myself to be understanding and lenient, even if I am little displeased with how things have turned out.
I continued reflecting during a beer break on a charming balcony bar overlooking the church. So what if my hotel room didn't have a private terrace (yet). I'd found a suitable alternative a few feet away.
Returning to the hotel, I apologized profusely to Lee, and he couldn't have been nicer. When it came time for dinner, he walked me a few doors down the street to an associated hotel with a famous restaurant. They brought me out an enormous platter chock full of local delicacies, all of which were truly delicious.
After dinner, I reunited with a returned Myles, and we swapped stories about our respective adventures over the past forty-eight hours. Eventually, we made our way to Beer Street, where we linked up with friends of his who were also in town, as a constant parade of revelers filed past. I'm sure you can probably guess that it turned into something of a late night, including a stop at one uber-cool bar where Sunset Boulevard was playing on the television. What a random finish to a full day.
I must confess, it was more than a little difficult to open my eyes at 5:15am that next morning to the sound of my alarm. But I hadn't given myself much time, so the snooze button wasn't an option. I had to quickly prepare for the Vespa Adventures sunrise tour.
The itinerary for the morning included several stops I had already seen, but with the novelty of visiting at that magical hour when things are just starting to wake up. In fact, it was still pretty dark when things kicked off.
We began at the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum for the daily flag raising ceremony, a solemn event with a lot of precision marching and military-style music. Our timing was a little off, as we had to wait around twenty-five minutes before the action began, but that's part of the reason why Vespa Adventures was experimenting on us. When the tour is ready to be formally rolled out for paying participants, I imagine they may be able to push the pick up time back to 6am, which will hopefully encourage more tourists to give it a shot than the scary-sounding 5:30am start we agreed to!
Afterwards, we headed back to the Long Bien Bridge, where another photogenic locomotive barreled by as we took in the early morning action of the scene. We followed this up with a memorable cruise around the Old Quarter, an early morning market visit, breakfast (ironically at the same place Lee had arranged for me to dine the night before) and a final stop at a cafe for the local coffee variety of our choosing.
I feel so lucky to have been among the very first visitors to experience this special tour. And I have a feeling the Hanoi Sunrise Tour will one day be a very popular offering!
After filming our closing interviews, my Vespa driver whisked me back towards my hotel, where I had arranged to meet Myles in front of the cathedral so we could attend Sunday mass. (Myles had been invited to join me on the tour, but decided he'd rather sleep in on his holiday.) The entire Advent service was in French, and it was undeniably beautiful, as we sang along with the hymns and I tried my best to understand the message of the priest's lengthy sermon.
Next up was Train Street. Any Google search of what to do in Hanoi inevitably leads to Train Street, the unofficial name given to Ngo 224 Le Duan, a narrow alleyway overlooked by tenements on both sides, where—for some inexplicable reason—the colonial French administrators decided to place railways tracks nearly touching the buildings. A couple of times each weekday, and many times on Saturdays and Sundays, a barreling locomotive roars down the alley, where dozens of intrepid restaurateurs have set up open-air cafes overlooking the spectacle.
Each passing of a train has become so popular, in fact, that the authorities have just recently started shutting things down. Instagrammers ruin everything. Too many people have refused to stay safely on the sidelines and have gone so far as to stand directly on the tracks as the train approached, trying to get the best shot of the undeniably photogenic show. Apparently, there have been a few close calls, with conductors just barely avoiding hitting tourists.
It seems only about two or three cafes offering front row seats are still open, and how much longer they will remain in business is an unanswered question. (I can guess how they've managed to stay around so far.) Policemen sit at the few access points blocking entry to the street, a stern refusal bellowed intimidatingly as Myles and I approached. However, I pointed to a restaurant that was open and clearly had availability and made eye contact with the owner, who motioned to us to approach.
We gestured to the guards, without a word, and, pointing to the lady, implied that we had pre-arranged all this. And, suddenly, the guards let us pass. (We later witnessed some hopeful tourists flat out denied entry, even though seats remained unoccupied in the cafe.)
After a few beers, the big moment arrived. Everybody rose from their chairs and got as close as possible without actually trespassing onto the tracks, and all of a sudden—whistle blaring—the train chugged by.
Was it the coolest thing I've ever witnessed? Not by a long shot. But it was certainly a quirky attraction, and I'd gladly sit through it again. Here's hoping the authorities find a way to curtail disruption and ensure safety while still allowing respectful visitors an opportunity to experience the iconic scene.
We had a quick coffee overlooking the cathedral before checking out one of Maggie's top lunch recommendations in the Old Quarter, a local fish specialty called cha ca, at a restaurant simply called Cha Ca Thang Long.
There's only one thing on the menu at the place, that iconic sizzling river fish grilled in the middle of your table in a blend of Vietnamese spices like turmeric, dill and spring onions. Coupled with a delicious sauce, peanuts and rice noodles, cha ca was yet another culinary highlight of the trip.
Having not ridden one of the innumerable pushcabs that crowd the streets, Myles and I negotiated with a driver to bring us to our next destination, the stunning Temple of Literature, once Vietnam's premier higher learning institution which thrived for over seven hundred years.
In addition to seeing the ancient temple built in 1070, visitors today experience the tranquility and loveliness of a series of courtyards the once served as the entrance to the university. Perhaps most memorable is a collection of around eighty steles, noting the names and birthplaces of those exemplary students who, between 1484 and 1780, achieved the highest marks on the institution's famously grueling examinations.
There were lots of students around, wandering the grounds and posing for pictures, because it seems this is considered a most auspicious spot for those with upcoming exams to visit for luck, in addition to a place where those who have recently performed well on such tests to commemorate their achievements in photographic form.
A second lunch at a Frommer's-recommended eatery overlooking the temple was perhaps unnecessary from hunger's perspective, but it couldn't have been more welcome. The restaurant is called KOTO, which stands for "Know One, Teach One." The idea is that underprivileged Vietnamese youths are trained here in the art of hospitality, and, once they have attained a certain level of skill, they are granted a certification which can help take them forward in careers in hotels and restaurants around the world.
We walked back to the Old Quarter afterwards, where Myles wanted to nap in his hotel and I wanted to enjoy a few beers on my new balcony, since Lin and his team had moved my belongings to the room I had originally booked at the Cinnamon Cathedral.
It was Sunday, you recall, so there were church services going on as I plopped down and cracked open a cold Hanoi Beer. The voices of a children's choir were flowing across on a light breeze, competing with the sound of motorbikes and car horns that are so ubiquitous in this town. At regular intervals, resounding bells were rung. The balcony was studded with greenery, and I just loved my little interlude.
Tempting as it was to just linger in my small paradise, it was our last night in town, and there were several things left to check off my itinerary. Foremost among these was a performance of the legendary Hanoi water puppets. I'd been hearing about these magical stagings for years, and it was probably the number one item on my Hanoi to do list.
Myles and I snagged some of the best seats in the house, in the second row. We were so close to the action that you could appreciate all the details. The puppeteers, behind a curtain and using long rods to steer their colorful alter egos, told age-old Vietnamese tales while musicians played instruments and sang traditional tunes to accompany the stories.
It was, quite simply, one of the most breathtaking artistic productions I've ever seen, and I think it should top every visitor's must visit list when in Hanoi. When the entire crew emerged waste-deep in the water at the conclusion of the performance, I couldn't have been more boisterous in my applause.
We popped up to a rooftop bar afterwards for a quick beer, looking out over the lake and the twinkling lights of the city. Then, of course, it was time for more food!
Another highly-touted Hanoi eatery I wanted to check out was called Highway 4, only a few minutes' walk from the rooftop bar. Truth be told, after breakfast and two lunches, neither Myles nor I were particularly hungry. But I wasn't passing up the chance for a final dinner in a city that had really wowed me with its culinary accomplishments. And let's just say, Highway 4 might have been the best spot of all!
Taking Vietnamese dishes and putting a modern spin on them, the chefs at this homey, bric-a-brac-filled restaurant created some of the best foodie memories of my trip. Think wasabi and catfish spring rolls, snail meatloaf with local spices wrapped and cooked in tin foil, shredded smoke buffalo meat with a spicy sauce... Even a season-appropriate turkey dish that flawlessly meshed a Western Christmas tradition with plenty of Vietnamese flavor! I snapped a photo of every course, something I'm rarely induced to do.
And to wash it all down with a pho-flavored beer, just sealed the deal. I saved the empty bottle to add to a row of memorable brews lined proudly in my Happy Valley kitchen. On any trip back to Hanoi, I'll certainly pay a repeat visit to Highway 4. But, then again, I would probably say that about every place I ate over that long weekend.
Last on my list of must dos was a visit to a famous local live music venue called Binh Minh Jazz Club. It was about a fifteen minute jaunt from the restaurant, and I deliberately tried to walk down streets I'd left unexplored up to this point, so as to see a bit more of the city as the night slipped away. And soon, we had arrived at the jazz club of your dreams. With its moody neon sign and appreciative patrons, the atmosphere inside was surreal.
But when a young man came on stage and sang the first few words of "Imagination," I really believed I was sitting in a smokey Chicago cafe back in the 1940s. Thanks God there are places like the Binh Minh still hanging on.
To add to the Christmas mood that started with the turkey at dinner, he performed "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" and "Let It Snow," both of which were absolutely stellar. This guy just had such a winning voice, sensitive, a bit wistful, with plenty of character. He was kind of like a mix between Chet Baker and Billie Holiday, and I'll never forget his two sets.
After this, there was little more than a homeward moonlit stroll, passing the opera house and the Metropole one last time. When I got back to the hotel, I made a point to savor a few final moments on my balcony, the hulking, dark silhouette of the cathedral dim in the black night.
At the airport that next morning, I lingered over a last egg coffee before heading to my gate. The jet was pretty empty as we sat on the runway, awaiting take off. With no seat neighbors with whom I could make small talk, and no in-fight entertainment screen to distract me, my mind turned, instead, to the realization that this weekend's trip was my last overseas journey of the 2010s.
A decade that started in January of that year with a quick, last minute weekend away in Manila, the capital of the Philippines, and concluded now in December of 2019 with a quick, last minute weekend away in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam. Bookended within these markers, a whole litany of travel memories began popping up, in Asia and beyond.
Zippy jaunts and multi-week extravaganzas; returning to places I've come to know well and exploring far-flung destinations to which I have not yet been fortunate enough to return. India. Egypt. Mexico. Burma. The London Olympics. The Fete des Vignerons. The seemingly endless Bangkok work-holidays. The weddings across multiple continents. The business trips to some of the world's most frenetic metropolises. And also the sleepy villages I've managed to escape to, on occasion. Savannakhet and Patzcuaro and Tanjung Pinang and Sion. And, it hardly needs to be mentioned, all the people I've met in these wonderful destinations, some who made fleeting but memorable cameos in my life's adventures, and others who have become real friends.
Once we were airborne, my eyes were inevitably drawn out the window, over the clouds, as we journeyed back to Hong Kong, my home. And I couldn't help but smile at the memories and the promise of everything that's still waiting in the wings in the 2020s.
