hanoi's messy charm where bikes rule and humidity steals your soul

i woke up to the sound of a motorcycle screeching outside my window. it was 3am and i was trying to sleep but instead i listened to the rhythm of the city’s exhaust. it’s like the city breathes through machines. i’m in hanoi and it’s been like this for weeks. i just checked and it’s hot, like 23.62c and feels like 24.52c. that number? it’s stuck on the thermometer. no variation. no drama. just a sauna with a view.

i’m not complaining. i’ve gotten used to the heat. or maybe i haven’t? either way, the humidity is a living thing here. it clings to your skin, makes your hair stick to your forehead, and turns your t-shirt into a second skin. i’m wearing a vintage band t-shirt from a thrift store in ho chi minh. it’s probably falling apart. but it’s comfortable. and it smells like dog food. which is odd because i don’t own a dog. but maybe that’s the magic of vietnam?

overheard gossip from a street vendor last night: ‘you should try the new place on ha noi street. they serve pho with a napkin in the bowl. no one knows what that means. some people say it’s a secret. others say it’s a curse. i heard that from a tourist who got food poisoning. or was it a ghost?’ i didn’t believe them. i still don’t. but now i’m curious.

the weather here is a mood. it’s 23.62c all day. no highs. no lows. just this flat, oppressive sameness. like the city is testing me. or maybe it’s just tired. either way, i’m not mad. i’m just drinking iced tea and wondering why my phone battery dies faster than my willpower.

if you get bored, hanoi’s neighbors are just a short drive away. nha trang is 4 hours by bus. ha long is 6. but why go? i heard that from a guy selling street food last week. he was toothless and drunk. but he said it with such conviction. like he was a prophet. or a madman. i’m not sure which.

i saw a review on tripadvisor that made me double-take. ‘this café is haunted. i kept hearing whispers in vietnamese. and the milk always tasted like rust.’ i didn’t go to that café. but i did go to another one called ‘the quiet room.’ it was empty. too empty. i left after 10 minutes. maybe it was haunted. maybe i was just tired.

someone told me that the old quarter is closing down. i didn’t check. i didn’t need to. i walked through it anyway. the walls are peeling. the smells are strong. there’s a bakery that sells bread with a hole in the middle. it’s called ‘the ghost hole bread.’ i don’t know if it’s real. but i bought one. it tasted like regret.

i’m a digital nomad. or at least i try to be. i work from a café with a view of a drainage canal. the water is green. the tables are sticky. the wifi is spotty. but it’s free. and it’s near a market where they sell everything fromAo dai to expired canned goods. i bought a can of peaches. it was 10 cents. it tasted like hope.

overheard advice from a local: ‘don’t drink the coffee. it’s strong. but also weak. it’s like the city itself. it promises a lot but delivers nothing.’* i laughed. but then i had to try it. it was bitter. and warm. and it stayed in my throat for hours.

i took some photos of the city. not professional. just random. one of a cyclist weaving through traffic. one of a cat napping on a sign. one of me holding a bag of peaches. the unsplash images i used? they’re not from here. i found them by searching ‘hanoi street market’ and ‘vietnamese architecture.’ the links are here:

there’s a map somewhere. i don’t know where. maybe on google. maybe in a dream. but here’s a guess:

i’m not sure if i’ll stay. or if i should. hanoi is messy. it’s loud. it’s real. and that’s what makes it worth the heat. or the humidity. or the suspicion in every eye. i’ll write more when i leave. probably. or maybe not. who knows.

links: tripadvisor review of the quiet room yelp guide to old quarter local blog about ghost hole bread whatsapp group for hanoi nomads