Hanoi

I am standing on the corner of a very busy intersection, one desperately needing a traffic light. I'm in a blank stare, just trying to figure out where I am, gazing at the buildings and the density of traffic, about 1/2 of which are motorbikes with 1, 2, 3 helmetless Vietnamese.

An older lady to my right smiles at me, beckons me forward.

I would liken the experience to a game of Frogger, except there is no moving side to side or back. Success depends on a confident, almost arrogant, strong walk forward, pausing at times, making eye contact. And prayer. Lots of prayer. Lanes are marked seemingly as an afterthought, a mere suggestion, as no one pays attention. Horns honk incessantly in order to signal to pedestrians and other drivers that they are approaching dangerously close. 35 years of NYC city living has not nearly prepared me for this, but I wonder how everyone else survives.

Everyone is wearing some kind of mouth covering... the pollution is heavy, and I wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the fact that a long walk leaves me covered in filth, constant adjusting my contact lenses for relief.

At every corner, there are motorbike owners and cyclists giving me a wave, a "hello!" and a huge warm, captivating smile, trying to persuade me to tour with them. I decline, and they are not aggressive at all.

Hanoi is dense. There are streets where each store is dedicated to only one good: candy street, bootleg shirt street. There is To Tich street where you can find one storefront after another dedicated to "fruit shakes," a 50 cent misnomered concoction of mango, papaya, dragonfruit, avocado, apple, sago, sweetened condensed milk and shaved ice. There's no shake about it... the mix is to be mashed by the drinker with a spoon. Ice is a no-no for the foreign traveler, but it's practically impossible to avoid, and essential when it's as hot as it is here.

The Dong Xuan Market at the north of town is one of the most dense I have seen: fabric salespeople sit atop piles of silks. Bootleg is cheap and plentiful. I learned it is easier than you'd think to recognize what cooked dog looks like. It looks like a very large Peking Duck.

My first Vietnamese meal of the day is bun cha, a steaming bowl of noodles in broth with sliced chicken. It's delicious, about $1, and strange it is how fortifying and refreshing hot soup can be on an equally hot day. I'm in a plastic chair the size of a child's, and thinking about how great it is to finally be here.