Bikes, bikes and more bikes

Today we caught the bus to Hanoi at 7.30am, along with a mixture of Chinese and Vietnamese people. It took about 3 hours to reach the Chinese border at Pingxiang. An extremely friendly and helpful Vietnamese man from our bus helped us throughout the process. We filled in our entry cards at the Vietnamese border and so left China. We got on our bus and travelled the 6 hours to Hanoi. We all stopped at a roadside café for 'pho' a Vietnamese speciality of noodles, meat and broth (I declined although Matt said it was good); I just admired the jars of pickled snakes for sale.

We arrived in Hanoi and everyone except us and a Chinese fellow got off the bus. A young girl who had been at the front of the bus came up to us to try and sell us a room in her new guesthouse but we declined. Her and her comrades seemed to be hassling the Chinese chap a little and in the end he gestured that he was coming with us. So, Matt, me and Chinese chap who spoke no English started looking for our hostel, Hanoi Backpackers Hostel. About half an hour later we found it; it's accredited by Hostelling International but run by 2 Aussie blokes who evidently like to create an atmosphere by encouraging over indulgence of anything alcoholic. The Chinese chap we had in tow took one look around the reception area at the 20 or so young noisy white people and quickly decided to find somewhere else to lay his head for the evening. Wise move.

The hostel itself seemed to tick all the boxes one would want ticking for such an establishment - clean, tidy, breakfast included, etc. However, we were in a dorm of 10 beds and between people checking in late (sometimes around midnight), night owls stumbling back in the early hours and others with early starts the next day, getting a settled nights sleep would prove to be something of a challenge.

The first thing that really struck us about Hanoi as soon as we arrived is that there are bikes EVERYWHERE, certainly in the Old Quarter where most tourists settle themselves; scooters, cycles, rickshaws, motorised rickshaws and motorbikes (called xe om) and relatively few cars considering the size of the city.

The second thing that struck us about the place is that said bikes observed almost none of the rules of the road that we understand. Just watching them from the side of the road could be an almost dizzying experience (especially at night) as they bobbed and weaved and sounded their horns incessantly. To cross you just have to brace yourself and slowly walk into the traffic, keeping on going as they weave around you.

The third thing that struck me in particular was literally a bike. I was waiting patiently to cross a one way street that Matt had already crossed. After 20 or 30 seconds, I saw a gap, braced myself and started walking across the road. I had only managed my first stride when I was hit and knocked over by a bicycle coming the other way (did I mention it was a one-way street?!). Thankfully it wasn't serious - I escaped with a few bruises including a big one on my side. Matt exchanged unpleasantries with the bike's owner who was actually quite apologetic. I was a bit upset and in fact wanted to get on the next flight home, fortunately I persevered and stayed.

There are also LOTS of tourists here now, every which way you look which is in complete contrast with China.

We climbed into our bunks and fell asleep to the intermittent roars of noise from above; Ben (also in our dorm who had been in bed for 2 whole days recovering from a trip to Halong Bay he took with the hostel) authoritatively informed us they were playing 'ring of fire' - some drinking game or other. I seriously think we're turning into boring old farts.