Ok, let me explain: The national currency of Vietnam is the "Dong" (16,000 to the dollar, as a matter of fact) and for a few hours this morning I was completely Dongless.....and starving. But I'll get to that in a minute.
So, when I left off it was midnight, I was WIDE awake and wondering what to do with myself. Not that I would have gone outside or anything, but it was completely impossible. The hotel, like every other business in Hanoi turns itself into a fortress at night. Huge metal doors roll down from ceiling to floor to protect the plate-glass windows at street level, and the entire hotel staff sleeps on the lobby floor right in front of the exit. So I waited...and waited...and waited. Not that having cable tv in my room will become a habit on this trip, but I do have one in this particular room. 4 hours of Vietnamese soccer commentators and a couple hours of reading later, the staff was stirring and I got them to lower the drawbridge for me at 5:30am.
I headed straight for Hoan Kiem lake, four or five blocks away, and was immediately greeted by one of my favorite peculiarly Asian sights: hundreds and hundreds of people spread out around the lake in different clusters practicing tai chi, fan dancing, arobacizing, ballroom dancing, jogging, walking, lifting weights, you name it. And the greatest thing of all is that no one cares what they look like when they're doing their thing. Butts shaking, arms flapping, legs kicking, more or less in unison. Americans could take a lesson in unselfconciousness...and exercise.
The rest of the morning consisted of #1 a search for Dong, #2 buying coffee with said Dong, and #3 finding my way back to the guesthouse for my free breakfast. After two hours of wandering around the maze of streets that comprises the Old Quarter, I hadn't made much progress - it seems things don't open until at least 9:00 on a Saturday morning, including forex offices AND the map given to me by the guesthouse misprinted not only their address but also their location on the map. Of course. Why not? I will admit for a moment or two, I was convinced this was all some big scam and the crooked desk-staff had taken down or covered up the guest house sign while they rummaged through my bags looking for valuables. But, in the end, I stumbled across the Bodega Hotel on my own, re-labeled my map, traded dollars for Dong, and got my coffee.
So, when I left off it was midnight, I was WIDE awake and wondering what to do with myself. Not that I would have gone outside or anything, but it was completely impossible. The hotel, like every other business in Hanoi turns itself into a fortress at night. Huge metal doors roll down from ceiling to floor to protect the plate-glass windows at street level, and the entire hotel staff sleeps on the lobby floor right in front of the exit. So I waited...and waited...and waited. Not that having cable tv in my room will become a habit on this trip, but I do have one in this particular room. 4 hours of Vietnamese soccer commentators and a couple hours of reading later, the staff was stirring and I got them to lower the drawbridge for me at 5:30am.
I headed straight for Hoan Kiem lake, four or five blocks away, and was immediately greeted by one of my favorite peculiarly Asian sights: hundreds and hundreds of people spread out around the lake in different clusters practicing tai chi, fan dancing, arobacizing, ballroom dancing, jogging, walking, lifting weights, you name it. And the greatest thing of all is that no one cares what they look like when they're doing their thing. Butts shaking, arms flapping, legs kicking, more or less in unison. Americans could take a lesson in unselfconciousness...and exercise.
The rest of the morning consisted of #1 a search for Dong, #2 buying coffee with said Dong, and #3 finding my way back to the guesthouse for my free breakfast. After two hours of wandering around the maze of streets that comprises the Old Quarter, I hadn't made much progress - it seems things don't open until at least 9:00 on a Saturday morning, including forex offices AND the map given to me by the guesthouse misprinted not only their address but also their location on the map. Of course. Why not? I will admit for a moment or two, I was convinced this was all some big scam and the crooked desk-staff had taken down or covered up the guest house sign while they rummaged through my bags looking for valuables. But, in the end, I stumbled across the Bodega Hotel on my own, re-labeled my map, traded dollars for Dong, and got my coffee.
1 comment:
Evan,
Remember to save some nice dong for me.
Daniel
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