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The Final Day
May. 1st, 2007 12:27 pmOn my last morning in Vietnam I determined to have a quick walk around the "government" district of Hanoi before leaving. "The Citadel", about a couple of acres of land smack in the middle of the city, serves to remind the visitor that, no matter how outward-looking Vietnam claims to be, there is still a bastion of old communism at its heart. This includes privilege for government officials.
The citadel has harsh "No photography" signs, guards at every gate, houses with large gardens interspersed with apartments for the lower orders, and high walls preventing casual viewers.
At the end of the citadel I came to the entrance to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, which lies by Ba Dinh Square. Although the road was blocked off, there were no signs indicating no entry to pedestrians, so I strolled along, only to hear a loud burst on a whistle. I looked around and, about 100 yards away was an army child waving me back. Clearly either (a) because it was Liberation Day and there was some kind of official display, you couldn't get to the mausoleum this way, or (b), even though there are no official barriers, you always have to go round to the other side (abou a kilometre walk) and enter through the pay as you go turnstiles.
A couple of times on my walk, it started to rain, increasing worrying thoughts that I might get soaked in some serious monsoonish weather. But, both times, the rain pulled back. Yay.
The taxi ride back had one moment of humour. My driver was one of the more aggressive younger men in the Hanoi automotive trade, and I think he believed that, if he got me to the airport in 25 minutes rather than 35, as a result of seriously accelerating up the arse of everything in front of him and blaring his horn every 20 seconds, I would tip more (he was well-wrong about this, much to his ill-concealed disappointment when we arrived).
But both of us chuckled when a small bus in front of us (luckily about 50 yards in front of us, rather than the more normal two feet or less) suddenly became detached from its left-rear hub cap. This bounced once on our side of the road before launching itself into the path of 50 oncoming motorbikes. These swerved manically to avoid this unusual event (or, maybe, for Hanoi, not so unusual) while the bus stopped as quickly as it could. Both the driver and I had a good laugh. Yes, schadenfreude is indeed universal.
Last night I fell asleep about 7.30pm (about 1.30 in the morning Hanoi time) after watching one episode of Spiral, so this morning at about 5am (11am Hanoi time) I began the one thing that I should do more often, but which I only get round to in moments of crisis (ceiling collapses 2006, Internet goes down 2007). Yes, I'm cleaning and organising the entire office.
My office machine has been upgraded, it has an extra gig of ram and the latest version of McAfee. Everything is being disconnected, cleaned, and put back in a different place. The table will be moved. The room will be spotless and will be roomier, because I am going to throw away a bucketload (this, btw, is smaller than a shedload) of shit.
My DHL package actually arrived! Wow. It's my replacement Schwab card, which you are told to activate from your home phone. Oh well, I'll phone from here and explain the situation. Overseas people get a non-toll-free number anyway.
And they've upgraded me to Platinum. Gee, all this poker seems to have beneficial effects far beyond ordinary life. But, well, I guess that 10 years ago I would have thought it a fair amount of cash that I keep there. What does Platinum mean? Looks like I get the free CDW cover if I hire a car. Although, scouring through the small print, I see that this excludes Israel, Jamaica, and anywhere in Ireland. Odd.
Still awaiting the promised Neteller Debit card. Perhaps that will be like the thrice-promised BT Fusion offer. They phone me. I say yes. They don't deliver.
The citadel has harsh "No photography" signs, guards at every gate, houses with large gardens interspersed with apartments for the lower orders, and high walls preventing casual viewers.
At the end of the citadel I came to the entrance to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, which lies by Ba Dinh Square. Although the road was blocked off, there were no signs indicating no entry to pedestrians, so I strolled along, only to hear a loud burst on a whistle. I looked around and, about 100 yards away was an army child waving me back. Clearly either (a) because it was Liberation Day and there was some kind of official display, you couldn't get to the mausoleum this way, or (b), even though there are no official barriers, you always have to go round to the other side (abou a kilometre walk) and enter through the pay as you go turnstiles.
A couple of times on my walk, it started to rain, increasing worrying thoughts that I might get soaked in some serious monsoonish weather. But, both times, the rain pulled back. Yay.
The taxi ride back had one moment of humour. My driver was one of the more aggressive younger men in the Hanoi automotive trade, and I think he believed that, if he got me to the airport in 25 minutes rather than 35, as a result of seriously accelerating up the arse of everything in front of him and blaring his horn every 20 seconds, I would tip more (he was well-wrong about this, much to his ill-concealed disappointment when we arrived).
But both of us chuckled when a small bus in front of us (luckily about 50 yards in front of us, rather than the more normal two feet or less) suddenly became detached from its left-rear hub cap. This bounced once on our side of the road before launching itself into the path of 50 oncoming motorbikes. These swerved manically to avoid this unusual event (or, maybe, for Hanoi, not so unusual) while the bus stopped as quickly as it could. Both the driver and I had a good laugh. Yes, schadenfreude is indeed universal.
Last night I fell asleep about 7.30pm (about 1.30 in the morning Hanoi time) after watching one episode of Spiral, so this morning at about 5am (11am Hanoi time) I began the one thing that I should do more often, but which I only get round to in moments of crisis (ceiling collapses 2006, Internet goes down 2007). Yes, I'm cleaning and organising the entire office.
My office machine has been upgraded, it has an extra gig of ram and the latest version of McAfee. Everything is being disconnected, cleaned, and put back in a different place. The table will be moved. The room will be spotless and will be roomier, because I am going to throw away a bucketload (this, btw, is smaller than a shedload) of shit.
My DHL package actually arrived! Wow. It's my replacement Schwab card, which you are told to activate from your home phone. Oh well, I'll phone from here and explain the situation. Overseas people get a non-toll-free number anyway.
And they've upgraded me to Platinum. Gee, all this poker seems to have beneficial effects far beyond ordinary life. But, well, I guess that 10 years ago I would have thought it a fair amount of cash that I keep there. What does Platinum mean? Looks like I get the free CDW cover if I hire a car. Although, scouring through the small print, I see that this excludes Israel, Jamaica, and anywhere in Ireland. Odd.
Still awaiting the promised Neteller Debit card. Perhaps that will be like the thrice-promised BT Fusion offer. They phone me. I say yes. They don't deliver.
