Monday 18th March

Monday 18^th March

We are so SO busy!

The weekend was full of festivities – Nicky’s joyful party, a delicious lunch with friends, many trips to and from the boat to do various lugging hither and thither.  I very much enjoyed putting books and magazines on the new bookshelves – how satisfying was that!  I was able – thank you so much, Chris and Bob – to obtain a box of beautiful Australian and National Geographic magazines.  These, I think, will be ideal to give away to Pacific Islanders.  Much better than giving them New Idea etc…I could see how bemused (FASCINATED but bemused) they were as they pored over photo spreads on Kate and Will’s wedding; diet plans; recipes for chocolate cakes; pampered pooches…

Hanoi pm - 2008

Pete and I arrived at 1.30, having left at 9.30, and had a wonderful afternoon in Hanoi.  We had to go and see a travel agent in the old quarter.  Pete’s negotiations with this lovely young lady took ages, so I sat on the footpath outside, or gently wandered in and out of rip-off handbag shops, DVD shops etc.  More pleasant just to sit and watch the world go by.  I was particularly intrigued with the parade of rickshaws going by, each bearing a tourist wearing a glum expression and carrying a big camera lens.  Once our train tickets were secured, we were able to go for a lovely walk around the lake.  Such a nice thing for a big, hot bustling city like Hanoi to have a large body of water in the very centre. 

We kept trying to get in touch with Kerry and Rina, but there was something wrong with Kerry’s phone.  We just had to hope that they would arrive in time for the train.  They knew we would be going to Jaspa’s late in the afternoon, so around 5pm we decided to catch a taxi up one of the main Hanoi thoroughfares to go there.  This street is called Hai Ba Trung.  We had it written on paper, and on a map, and we climbed into a taxi ready to go.  “Hai Ba Trung,” said Pete, in his loud, clear voice.  The taxi driver looked totally blank.  No idea what this could be.  “He doesn’t know where it is,’ said Pete, “We’d better go in another taxi.”  But no - the driver looked at the map and his worried frown disappeared - Hai Ba Trung, easy!  I can say now, with some certainty, that I would never be able to learn Vietnamese.  I did try, and learned a few phrases, eg, THANK YOU, but when I said it, in the most obvious circumstances, I would be met with blank, puzzled faces.  What WAS the poor mad old Australian woman trying to say???  Not a clue. 

We got to Jaspa’s in Hanoi Tower and sat in blissful luxurious airconditioning, sipping mango juice/beer, reading our books, looking at the fabulous view, but just faintly worrying…where were Kerry and Rina??  We had a most delicious and nourishing dinner, and stayed there as long as possible in case they came busting through the door.  At 8.25 we just had to go, couldn’t wait for them any longer; we had the train tickets, and we just hoped they would be at the station.  And yes, there they were!  Not looking as if they had spent a lovely afternoons sightseeing, or an early evening in an air-conditioned restaurant sipping mango juice and eating nourishing food… They were hot, dishevelled, discombobulated.  Their trip from Cat Ba to Hanoi had taken them many hours more than ours.  It had started to rain and the road was flooded, so they had to walk about two kilometres from the ferry to the end of the queue of traffic to get on their bus.  “We walked through pigshit!” said Rina, in slightly hysterical tones.  Her pretty white cotton dress was indeed splattered with ominous-looking khaki stains.  The poor darling; not only did she have to trudge through swill carrying her glamorous Spencer and Rutherford luggage, but when they were on the bus somebody threw up and the conductor dropped the bag of vomit on her foot… And then they got to the station and we weren’t there…they thought they were going to miss their trip to Sapa.  It was a joyful reunion, and Pete and I did NOT rub in too much the fact that we had had a charming and peaceful time pootling around Hanoi while they struggled with the elements and with dodgy transport and bags of vomit.