Asshole… I thought, as I exited my hotel room to find someone’s leftover takeaway swinging from my door-handle. But when I went to put it in the bin I noticed it felt suspiciously heavy. Like the person hadn’t eaten their take-away at all…
I opened it up and realised – to my complete and utter joy – that it was nobody’s left-over takeaway… It was my free hotel breakfast that had been delivered to my room when I didn’t show up for it on time. A styrofoam container held a healthy portion of egg-fried rice complete with an actual fried egg on top. I brought it into my room and devoured it with pleasure.
Yesterday morning’s discovery yielded to me a proper sanctuary. The Joma Bakery is unbeatable. And I went straight back after checking-out of my hotel. So there I was: enjoying a hot mulberry pie and a latte when I should have been getting my ass to the airport… I had a plane to catch to Vietnam. Just as I was getting comfortable in Laos I was leaving it…
I searched up and down the streets. It was still before noon and the day was not fully cooked, though the temperature was rising as rapidly as my time was running out. Taxis were nowhere to be seen. I was out of options… I had no choice but to hop on the back of a motorbike once again.
Speeding through the streets of Vientiane was scarier during the day than it had been at night. In the dark hours the roads had been quiet and clear; in the late morning they were teeming with traffic. Everywhere I glanced I envisioned a possible crash. Every swerve and turn felt like a life-saving miracle.
I met the Romans at the airport. Their flights were originally booked for yesterday of course, but with the demise of Caesar they managed to switch and get on the same one as me. We were flying to Hanoi together.
Despite the fact that the flight was barely more than hour long, and the fact that Laos airlines are very much a budget airline, we were still given free burgers and drinks on board. Which, when you are accustomed to the likes of Ryanair, is quite astonishing… Screw you Ryanair…
And then we were in Vietnam. Nao Bai airport. Pulling fresh currency from cash machines, getting new sims popped into our phones and jumping on the first bus to appear outside.
We met our next meal soon after escaping the jostle-hell bus. It came in the form of noodle soup, better described as spaghetti in gravy. Our plan was to rush to Ha Long bay – Vietnam’s beautiful northern coast. But all of a sudden Tiberius was proposing we spend the night in Hanoi… delay the rest of our journey until tomorrow. And Caligula was agreeing with him.
I wasn’t happy about the abrupt change in plan, but since I had no ideas on how to get to Halong Bay nor the mental energy to find out, I went along with the new plan. I stood on the balcony of our hotel in Hanoi, a can of Hanoi beer in my hand. More than ever I felt the need to go solo. We’d had a good run, but it was time. Time to break with the Romans.
With the sudden realisation that this could be our last night together as a trio, we dived into the ebullient motorbike jungle of Hanoi. The sidewalks were no place for walking – they were cluttered with tiny tables and chairs, the size of things you’d sit toddlers at, but people sat all over them, brewing great pots of noodles and drinking beer. Great multicolored lights flashed and washed the streets in their exuberant glow; Chinese lamps clustered and multiplied themselves upon the shelters and rooftops of the shops and bars. Restaurant serving staff crossed the street, their hands full of plates of food, and motorbikes, as multitudinous as leaves in a forest, drifted through the crowds, jauntily cutting their way through the increasing sea of people.
From this ever-twisting, rippling sea lunged restaurant and bar owners vying desperately for our attention. We were pulled into a bar by a very excited woman who offered us 6 free shots. We got bottles of Viet Beer… and 6 free shots.
We all strangely agreed that we liked the city, despite it being so chaotic and maddening that trying to walk along the pavement is as exhausting as trying to swim across a river – never mind crossing the road…
Suddenly Tiberius is proposing to Caligula that they don’t go to Ha Long bay at all. The city holds us all captive. I’m deserting them. But now Caligula wants to desert. But Tiberius might beat him to it. Tiberius wants to beat me to it. He wants to desert tonight. Perhaps we’ll all desert each other?
But not until we fight our way through this onslaught of people and the tide of motorbikes which are all doused in neon lights and swerving to avoid massive pots of food and entire restaurants – which are spread over pavements and roads. We leave the current bar where we are almost held captive by our hosts and force our way down the choked street, finding somewhere with a bit more space, and eventually resolving to sit in those minuscule-baby chairs. We try more new beer. Halliday. It seems rather tasteless to me. Perhaps I’ve simply been tasting too much beer. Caligula orders spring rolls and Tiberius – perhaps inspired by my activity yesterday – gets himself a bowl of boiled snails. He can’t get them out of the shell and the shells go rocketing and ping-ponging along the table, flying and bouncing over the chairs and the road. I’m full of food and indecision. Shall I stay with them longer? It would be a shame to separate now…
We drink more beer. We eat noodles and baguettes. I glutted myself on the streets of Hanoi. Well… I thought, at least if this is our last night together, we have not wasted it. But was it?
