Ha Noi

Hanoi to my mind is what one might expect to find on the other side of the world; a place about 180 degrees out of synch with the point of departure. It’s something like Saigon meets Amsterdam, meets the Land of Oz, particularly approaching the urban center from the countryside as we did in the hour drive from the airport. The rural landscape of rice fields is a vivid green that seems almost unnatural by my corn and wheat fed roots. Exiting the highway our route meandered through the outskirts which while increasing in population density along the way maintained a similar village character with small scale shops and canopy of trees along the streets. The congestion seemed to reach a critical mass by our arrival in the old quarter where we’re staying where the typical commercial/residential lot (doesn’t seem to be a differentiation in zoning regulation here as families occupy their business space) I’d guess to be about 10 feet across and perhaps 25 deep. Specialization is the name of the game in the tight spaces, so a story may carry one single product line like interior paint, packed to the ceiling. Crafts people ply their trades in these spaces as well. It’s so captivating to peer in to the interior of one space to observe the lone cobbler at his sewing machine in this quintessentially quaint, old-world setting, and then to stroll a couple spaces further to take in a team of woodworkers busily engaged in their constructions. All of this activity is fully visible as the storefronts are generally rolled fully open I guess to promote both guest traffic and air circulation. The energy and color of this setting is mesmerizing. Leslie and I spent the better part of the first hour after arrival here canvassing the immediate half block. I had to keep reminding myself to keep my mouth closed.
Steve