Choo-choo Java

 November 3rd.

Same breakfast and morning routine as before, only slower. I opened Google maps and set my destination and started following the little blue arrow. By now I’m kind of getting a hang for how and where things are, certainly not ready to start a taxi service, but not so intimidated in going in new and different directions.

Train street was my destination. I wasn’t going to experience the actual full adrenaline filled exposure, but at least I could say I saw the street. Because of safety concerns the street was officially closed to the public, unless you had a personal invitation from a shopkeeper. Which meant, if you were willing to buy a cup of coffee, you got an invitation.

There was a small crowd of tourists and coffee hawkers at the rail crossing. One woman gave me a invitation and told me the train was coming soon. I knew that was hooey because Mr. Google said that today’s trains were at 7:00pm and 7:45pm. It was only about 11:25am and I didn’t think my bladder could endure eight hours of coffee. Though it really might make a difference with the jet lag.

So, ya, ya … train coming soon. I’ve had bigger lies told to me this trip. Lead on to a little stool and some coffee. —— Vietnam is (according to someone) the third largest coffee producer in the world. They might grow the heck out of it, but they sure don’t know how to make a decent cuppa’ Joe. —— So I sit on the little plastic stool with my knees hitting my chin and watch the world go by. Women standing in the tracks, with their hair flipped over their shoulder and just the right pose of phone held above forehead height, head cocked slightly to the side and big smile. Next stop instagram. “Yes my life is perfect, and your’s is not!”, pose. Then there are the couples where he is the male Annie Leibovitz directing her in just the perfect shaft of sunlight, before having her lay or sit on the rails. I was waiting for one of them to come out with the ropes tie them to the tracks, like a modern Simon Lagree.

Then there was movement, and not from posing. Tourists were shuffled off the tracks, little plastic stools were moved closer to buildings. Payment for coffee was demanded and a screech of a high pitched train whistle was heard. The gate lady wasn’t lying to me ! 11:45am and here comes the train. I attempt to stand  and the shop proprietor put her hand on my shoulder and made me sit. Well at least maybe when the train does hit me I’ll be in a ball configuration and will just roll instead of tumble. Then it was on top of me! Not at hundreds of miles an hour, but at a pretty good clip, maybe 25 mph. From my vantage point, of where I could actually reach out and touch the passing cars, 25 mph was more than enough. That was more exciting than crossing a Hanoi highway at rush hour.

The train passed. The instagramers and wannabe Vogue cover photographers faded in the wind and the little plastic stools moved back closer to the tracks and all was peaceful again. All that for a $2 cup of bad coffee.

Nothing of great consequence happened the remainder of the afternoon. I roamed around a bit and sweated some more. I did lay under the a/c in the room for a while relaxing. Not a 9 mile day, but still 5 miles was enough.

I checked out TripAdvisor for a good restaurant in the area and it pointed one eight or nine blocks away. A nice evening walk. When I turned the final corner the street was lined with restaurant after restaurant. It was right in the middle of Hanoi’s “Beer Street”. If you are a backpacker on a gap year, this is your milieu. Cheap eats and cheaper beer. Beer was cheaper than water. I decided to forget TripAdvisor’s recommendation and just wing it.

Similar to running a gauntlet, plastic laminated menus were shoved in my face followed by “Come. Sit”,

“Cheap Beer”, “Good food”, “Maybe later?” as I proceeded to worm my way past the menus and drunks. At the major crossroads of Beer street and some other street I found a plastic stool to my liking and ordered a beer and some food. I had to snake my way through the crowd to get to the location and still the occasional SUV would turn the corner and proceeded to. The vehicles were so close to to my table that the host put other plastic stools in front of my table to at least make a noise before my meal went from a sit down to a to-go. Motorcycles and people I expected, but not Isuzus.

The meal was surprisingly good for being served in a madhouse on a freeway. Maybe the beer buffered my expectations a little bit.

On my way back to the hotel I passed by the lake again and I have no idea what was going on. But the once jammed street was absolutely (4 or 5 lanes) car less. Filled with couples out for an evening stroll on a Friday evening. The city had closed off a major thoroughfare into a wide pedestrian mall. That was surprising and sweet.

Back to the hotel and the alarm set for 5am, for a 6:30 bus to Sapa.