Dead guy, pipes and sour soup.

Hanoi the ancient city of the easy. It's labouring bulk dissected with elastic twisting limbs.

We are staying in the old quarter, the most exciting and labyrinth part of Hanoi. We arrived yesterday worn out from our epic train adventure but keen to explore.

Hitting the street we pulled up a tiny child size plastic chair on a the busiest street corner in history. (the rule is the smaller the chair the cheaper the beer) We were in the old town so no tourists "pasties" here, billions of scooters cramming round the corner like a plague of scarrab beatles.

There was a soft and slightly rotten crunch, mixed with a mildly moist and mouldy squelch as we reclined In our local street corner haunt. As I looked below the playskool table I felt the liquid sludge of rotting banana leaves, squashed monkey nuts and beer suds invade between my toes.

With a non chalant wave of the hand 2 fresh beers appeared at our table without any verbal communication just a cap wearing youth who beamed at us with a gap toothed grin.

An indiscernible noise drew our attention. I turned to find a pickled looking local archaic mute man becoming me dressed in dark jeans with a tattered US Army cap on.

First of all in a unique form of sign language he asked if I smoked waving a packet of cigs at me, and relayed his name was Halp, I replied no suggested it stunted ones growth. This got quite a few giggles from the on looking locals all shorter than me who were fascinated with our exchange.

Next from under the table he produced a giant pipe which was about the length of my arm, he must have seen my face brighten as our eyes met in a common appreciation. ( to understand this better see early blog 'the art of pipe smoking" circa 2008)

He demonstrated his method, pinch of tobacco at bottom, light and get going, then give hearty puff (just like a peak flow) blowing tobacco over assembled multitudes then put your mouth over whole end of tube and inhale.

I felt nervous, like I was about to undergo a strange ancient Vietnamese right of passage. I went through the ritual took an almighty inhale with a faint wiff of a rose woodie hint passing me by and handed it back to the master.

Nothing.... Did I get it wrong? I felt nothing, no warmth, relaxation???

He started gesturing excitedly at me with a thumb up followed by a explosion/firework motion at his head. A sinking feeling hit me as I gently moved my head and the whole universe rocked... I was soaring above the street corner looking down at the tiny ant like people busting around. A feeling of utter euphoria washed over me, then.....
woosh I landed back in my being as if nothing had happened rocked in my seat and looked incredulously at Halp who was mutedly giggling at me.

To be continued...