Rain in Hanoi

July 20th, 2009 by Elizabeth

Back in Hanoi on Friday evening:

As a group, the 3 of us checked into our quaint little hotel, and at about 4pm, in rolled the rain. Just prior to the downpour, I had made the decision to take a walk around the lake, while my travel friends relaxed in the hotel room. The clouds had cleared out so I left my emergency poncho in the room – big mistake. I got about 3 blocks and the rain started, but lightly at first. Within 60 seconds I was at the lake, walking on the path at the waters edge. It started raining buckets by this point, and I was soaked. Drenched to the core – like I was holding a garden hose over my head. A couple motorbikes came over to the sidewalk, offering a free ride to the nearest canopy – the drivers, of course, wore a poncho and were not nearly as wet as me. I politely declined – I was so wet, it made no difference at this point. I couldn’t help but laugh – I’m sure I was a sight to see. Everyone else walking around the lake had taken shelter (at least under an umbrella) or a canopy of some sort. They looked, pointed, laughed at me. I laughed back – what else could I do?

Then I hear “Madam! Madam!” from behind me. I turn to see a tiny woman with 3 umbrellas and 2 ponchos in her hands, walking the streets trying to sell to tourists, and running toward me. I decline, “No, no; poncho at home. It’s okay, thank you!” and I try to walk away. She grabs my arm and with a smile, insists I purchase one or the other, with an obvious look of concern on her face. I ask how much, but not willing to pay $2 for another poncho (everything is cheap in Vietnam and no one should pay any more than 75 cents for a plastic poncho.) I insist, “No, no, too expensive. Thank you!” and try to peel myself away and hurry along the path. But she insists again: “No! Here! Take!” and shoves a bright pink poncho in my hand and pushes me on, smiling and shooing me away. Of course she wanted to make a sale, but more than anything she felt pity for me, and just wanted to see me stay dry (or not get any more wet). I thought it was a sweet gesture, and I never decline anything pink.

I put the poncho on, and it stuck to my wet clothes, and it made me sweat! But I was grateful for the woman’s generosity and continued to laugh aloud… It was such a humorous event, walking around a lake in urban Vietnam, alone, during a downpour, clutching my purse, drenched, being chased by a Vietnamese poncho-seller, and everyone staring and laughing. As fate would have it, as soon as I had the poncho on for not 30 seconds, the rain stopped and the sun came out. It never rained again during our weekend away.

That evening, after a hot shower and dry clothes, the three of us went out to discover the nightlife in Hanoi. We walked to a nearby café where there were many Westerners drinking French coffee and eating apple tarts with icecream. We rested, read our books, and drank iced coffee.

Fortunately, Hanoi’s old quarter was spared in the bombing during the war, so the French-influence buildings remain intact, as well as the cobblestone streets and landscaped lakes and parks. There are a few reminders of the American War still present in Hanoi, however. A large B-52 plane that was shot down on Christmas of 1972? still rests in a lake outside of the Old Town Hanoi in a poorer neighborhood. Asked why it was never removed, and received the reply: “Didn’t matter much. Have better things to do, I guess.” There are flower pots made of old bomb shells (what else are you going to do with a massive concrete shell?) and buildings in the industrial side of town dotted with bulletholes and scrapnel.

I had seen a small 2-story cafe only a block from our hotel that served Carlsberg beer, and on a steamy summer evening in Vietnam, there is nothing I want more than a cold beer. So we walked the few short blocks and took a seat on the balcony of Rainbow Café, and I drank my Danish beer. The walls were a fun lime green and plastic orange ceiling lamps from the 1960s hung from the ceiling. It was PERFECT. I had one of those epiphany moments: here I was in Hanoi, VIETNAM, at 9pm, sitting in a perfect paradise of a cafe, on a balmy summer night, not a misquito to speak of, and a stereo at a nearby café blaring “In the Name of Love” by U2. The street had been busy with markets and tourists during the day, but now in the evening the cafes open their doors and people sit casually on the sidewalks, sipping beer, coffee, or fruity smoothies. It was still and peaceful. Lamp lights and Christmas lights dangling from enormous Almond trees, gave the evening a particular glow. A rare motorbike would come down the street, but otherwise I could only hear the muffle of conversations below, and the American music. I paid my $1.50 for my beer and was packing up to leave, when the stereo began to play “Ticket to Ride” by the Beatles. It made me think of Dad and Emily back home, so I had to sit a little longer. Dad, I toasted you that night, with my Carlsberg beer in hand.