At Home in Hanoi
Hello and xin chào!
Summer has decidedly begun here—over last weekend, the temperature broke 100°F three days in a row. With humidity factored in, my phone told me it felt like 121°F. At night, it doesn't get any better, given the absurd humidity. Last Sunday at 10:30pm, it was 87°F, feels like 100°F. At any rate, I come to you with a sort of odds-and-ends post about my daily life for the past 9+ months. The focus? My beloved apartment and motorbike.
In a previous post, I explained the hierarchy of streets, lanes, and alleys in Hanoi—here's a recap: a "street" (phố) is a major road 2-4 lanes wide; a "lane" (ngõ) branches off of a street and is rarely wider than 1-1.5 lanes; and an "alley" (ngách) branches off of a lane and usually can only accommodate motorbikes. Lanes and alleys are numbered based on the adjacent addresses on their streets and don't have their own names. I live on Ngách 14, Ngõ 35, Phố Cát Linh, which means I live on the alley that starts at #14 of the lane that starts at #35 of Cát Linh Street.
I love my little ngõ—I recognize the same people hanging out in the same places every day, and I feel a real sense of community despite being a superlative outsider. The same older men sit in on stools in the same places smoking cigarettes and drinking trà đá (iced tea). Grandparents take grandchildren on walks—there's one man I see every so often who seriously looks like he could be a great-grandfather. Every afternoon there's a butcher who puts out slices of meat on a cardboard-covered card table out in the open. In the mornings, there's a woman who sits on a stool in my alley selling vegetables out of big plastic bags. One time, I even saw a woman crouched on the ground in my alley hacking the scales off of a fresh fish.
Once you make your way through the maze of alleys to my apartment building, you can't even see all the way up its façade, as the alley is no more than two or three yards wide. After parking on the empty first floor, you head up a flight of stairs to the elevator. I'm at the top floor—the 7th—each floor being one studio apartment.
Inside I've got my basic but airy studio, which includes twice a week cleaning and laundry service. (That's really common here.) Utilities notwithstanding, all of this sets me back 8,000,000 đồng every month—roughly $340. My landlord, meanwhile, is the loveliest woman. At Christmas, she left me a little stocking with candy, and before Tết, she left me a small vase of traditional peach blossoms.
My favorite thing about my apartment, however, has got to be the massive windows and the view out of them. Though it's not necessarily the prettiest view per se, I love that I get a panorama of the city, and it floods my apartment with natural light. (Not always a given here with the buildings so close together—I have some friends whose apartment windows are well under a foot away from the wall of another building.)
Periodically, I still manage to hear roosters crowing in my 7th-story apartment. For whatever reason, the pest control company on the other side of the alley from my apartment sometimes keeps chickens. (They're in the one with the bathtubs on the roof). I can see right down into what seems like a break room—they eat there, drink there, and come out on the roof to smoke.
During the AFF Championship—the Southeast Asian equivalent of the World Cup, more or less—last November/December, I knew when Vietnam was doing well in a match based on the amount of cheering I heard below. (Vietnam ended up winning the whole thing. I very quickly learned the phrase "Việt Nam vô địch!"—which roughly translates as "Vietnam is unbeatable!"—from my students.)
If this was formal writing, there'd be a segue here, but this is a blog. That said, turn up the volume in the video above to get a feel for the atmosphere in my alley at night. I love little moments like these that give this place so much character.
Because I left behind stressing about my writing at commencement almost exactly a year ago, here's another non-segue. One of the craziest things about living here has got to be riding a motorbike. All day, every day I'm out and about on my little 110cc, 4-gear Honda Blade. It has a semi-automatic transmission, meaning that I still need to change gears, but the clutch is automatic. So I use my left foot to shift gears with pedals in front of and behind the foot peg. Then there's a pedal for my right foot to control the rear brake, and a lever for my right hand to control the front brake. Last but not least, I use my left hand to press a button for the horn. (It sees extremely frequent—and necessary—use.)
Here is a partial list of some of the absurd things I've seen on motorbikes: large dogs balancing in footwells; families of five squeezed together on one bike; pillion riders (the ones on the back) holding air conditioners, door-size sheets of glass, and large flat-screens; a queen-size mattress positioned flat across the back; and my favorite, a small monkey with a collar and chain leash sitting on the dash.
Here I've got a video of a typical commute for me (sped up 4.5x). I put my phone in my shirt pocket for a good chunk of the drive so you can see the insanity I contend with on a daily basis. But the craziest part? I'm so used to it now. I've gotten to a point where I can ride through this traffic while totally zoned out.
And here's a video of my commute back to my apartment after class, also sped up 4.5x. At about 49 seconds in, however, it slows down to 2x so you can see me riding on the sidewalk to get around an inexplicable traffic jam. (That is a normal practice here.)
Check out a grab bag of photos of Hanoi from the past few months here. (There are currently only 15 pictures in it, and most of them are a lot prettier than the ones in this post.)
Till next time,
Gray
Summer has decidedly begun here—over last weekend, the temperature broke 100°F three days in a row. With humidity factored in, my phone told me it felt like 121°F. At night, it doesn't get any better, given the absurd humidity. Last Sunday at 10:30pm, it was 87°F, feels like 100°F. At any rate, I come to you with a sort of odds-and-ends post about my daily life for the past 9+ months. The focus? My beloved apartment and motorbike.
In a previous post, I explained the hierarchy of streets, lanes, and alleys in Hanoi—here's a recap: a "street" (phố) is a major road 2-4 lanes wide; a "lane" (ngõ) branches off of a street and is rarely wider than 1-1.5 lanes; and an "alley" (ngách) branches off of a lane and usually can only accommodate motorbikes. Lanes and alleys are numbered based on the adjacent addresses on their streets and don't have their own names. I live on Ngách 14, Ngõ 35, Phố Cát Linh, which means I live on the alley that starts at #14 of the lane that starts at #35 of Cát Linh Street.
 |
| Looking down Ngõ 35 Cát Linh. Bottom right, you can see some pineapples for sale. A little further down, next to the big red nhà nghỉ (guest house) sign, you can see the butcher's table. |
I love my little ngõ—I recognize the same people hanging out in the same places every day, and I feel a real sense of community despite being a superlative outsider. The same older men sit in on stools in the same places smoking cigarettes and drinking trà đá (iced tea). Grandparents take grandchildren on walks—there's one man I see every so often who seriously looks like he could be a great-grandfather. Every afternoon there's a butcher who puts out slices of meat on a cardboard-covered card table out in the open. In the mornings, there's a woman who sits on a stool in my alley selling vegetables out of big plastic bags. One time, I even saw a woman crouched on the ground in my alley hacking the scales off of a fresh fish.
 |
| The ngách (alley) outside my apartment building. |
Once you make your way through the maze of alleys to my apartment building, you can't even see all the way up its façade, as the alley is no more than two or three yards wide. After parking on the empty first floor, you head up a flight of stairs to the elevator. I'm at the top floor—the 7th—each floor being one studio apartment.
 |
| My main living area. I find most of my bedding pretty ugly, but I can't complain since it comes with the place. |
Inside I've got my basic but airy studio, which includes twice a week cleaning and laundry service. (That's really common here.) Utilities notwithstanding, all of this sets me back 8,000,000 đồng every month—roughly $340. My landlord, meanwhile, is the loveliest woman. At Christmas, she left me a little stocking with candy, and before Tết, she left me a small vase of traditional peach blossoms.
 |
| Daytime view from my apartment. |
My favorite thing about my apartment, however, has got to be the massive windows and the view out of them. Though it's not necessarily the prettiest view per se, I love that I get a panorama of the city, and it floods my apartment with natural light. (Not always a given here with the buildings so close together—I have some friends whose apartment windows are well under a foot away from the wall of another building.)
 |
| Caged chickens on the roof next to my window, just below the bathtubs in the photo above. |
Periodically, I still manage to hear roosters crowing in my 7th-story apartment. For whatever reason, the pest control company on the other side of the alley from my apartment sometimes keeps chickens. (They're in the one with the bathtubs on the roof). I can see right down into what seems like a break room—they eat there, drink there, and come out on the roof to smoke.
During the AFF Championship—the Southeast Asian equivalent of the World Cup, more or less—last November/December, I knew when Vietnam was doing well in a match based on the amount of cheering I heard below. (Vietnam ended up winning the whole thing. I very quickly learned the phrase "Việt Nam vô địch!"—which roughly translates as "Vietnam is unbeatable!"—from my students.)
If this was formal writing, there'd be a segue here, but this is a blog. That said, turn up the volume in the video above to get a feel for the atmosphere in my alley at night. I love little moments like these that give this place so much character.
 |
| My trusty Honda Blade. |
Because I left behind stressing about my writing at commencement almost exactly a year ago, here's another non-segue. One of the craziest things about living here has got to be riding a motorbike. All day, every day I'm out and about on my little 110cc, 4-gear Honda Blade. It has a semi-automatic transmission, meaning that I still need to change gears, but the clutch is automatic. So I use my left foot to shift gears with pedals in front of and behind the foot peg. Then there's a pedal for my right foot to control the rear brake, and a lever for my right hand to control the front brake. Last but not least, I use my left hand to press a button for the horn. (It sees extremely frequent—and necessary—use.)
 |
| A husky holding its own on a motorbike. |
Here is a partial list of some of the absurd things I've seen on motorbikes: large dogs balancing in footwells; families of five squeezed together on one bike; pillion riders (the ones on the back) holding air conditioners, door-size sheets of glass, and large flat-screens; a queen-size mattress positioned flat across the back; and my favorite, a small monkey with a collar and chain leash sitting on the dash.
Here I've got a video of a typical commute for me (sped up 4.5x). I put my phone in my shirt pocket for a good chunk of the drive so you can see the insanity I contend with on a daily basis. But the craziest part? I'm so used to it now. I've gotten to a point where I can ride through this traffic while totally zoned out.
And here's a video of my commute back to my apartment after class, also sped up 4.5x. At about 49 seconds in, however, it slows down to 2x so you can see me riding on the sidewalk to get around an inexplicable traffic jam. (That is a normal practice here.)
 |
| Just want to leave you with this bonus pic. Disclaimer that it was taken by a friend, and regrettably I did not see this in person. |
Check out a grab bag of photos of Hanoi from the past few months here. (There are currently only 15 pictures in it, and most of them are a lot prettier than the ones in this post.)
Till next time,
Gray
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