I realised at that point that i hadn’t actually repaired a puncture for about 20 years. In my last couple years in Hanoi i would have had close to 10 punctures, and each time i was only ever around the corner from a bike repair guy, not because i was particularly lucky, but there just happens to be one around every corner.

(thanks Jim Tran, whoever you may be for the photo)

Thirty minutes of fumbling around passed before i had my wheel back on and inflated and ready to head off to my barber. In the same amount of time in Hanoi i would have had my bike fixed, my hair trimmed, sideburns shaven way too short, nose hairs clipped, an unnecessary shave probably followed by a quick bun cha. Oh well, at least i am learning how to do things myself again.

So anyway, the ticketing system was great, had my number called, people still lingered around my window trying their luck, but i had that golden ticket which trumped their strong pointy elbows in this case. i asked for the ticket for myself, only hard sleepers left, no problem, done, i asked for a ticket for my motorbike, and she says “we don’t do them here, go to the office outside next to the lotteria” (oiliest burgers i ever been near). I enter the office say my awkward Vietnamese greeting, followed with “i want to get my bike down to Hue, i already have a ticket for myself.” He says, “i understand, it will take ten days.” I, putting on a similar face to the above one, say, “but i arrive there on an overnight train, how can it take 10 days?” he says, “to Hue 8-10 days, Saigon 3 days.” I putting on a similar face to the above one, say, “but Saigon is the other end of the country, Hue is only halfway.” He says something i don’t really grasp, but i assume the offloading in Hue is not possible within the time the train stops there. I leave the station dejected and confused.

With my dejected and confused face on, a lady on the street corner pounces on me and says, “do you need a train ticket?” i say “no, but i need one for my bike.” She whistles over to some guy standing in the middle of the road looking like he’s just made a crack deal. He comes over in his baseball cap, gold chains glistening and tells me to follow him up the road. We enter a small shopfront that looks as though it hasn’t sold anything since the French were ousted, where my man asks me what i’m after, i explain, and he assures me it can be done. He even writes me a note:

I hand over the money (350k dong) thinking, “i’m such a sucker.” He tells me to come back the day before i leave, i assume to collect my ticket for the bike and load it on. I return like i’m supposed to, to find my man hanging about on the corner sipping some tea. He, looking friendlier and familiar towards me now hails me over, and gestures for me to join him on a tiny stool. He says, “i’ll need another 100k, to get your bike down.” I thinking “i’m such a sucker” agree to this and we both get on our bikes to load my motorbike. I expected him to take me across the road to the main station, but no, we’re heading south to Giap Bat station, where the freight trains are. It’s completely dark at this point, when we roll into some railworks, he looks around, no sign of people, at this point i think he’s waiting for his accomplice to mug me, beat me, bag me and run off with my fancy sneakers. But no, he was just looking for his freight train buddies who were having hot pot in the office, we join them, they tell us to sit down, eat and drink. My man says, no we just need to sort this bike out. A little bit of negotiation takes place, a few handshakes, a signature on some scrawled up paper, an exchange of numbers and all is done. I am thinking the whole time, “i may never see this bike again, all i have is a handwritten note from some guy whose name i’m probably mispronouncing.”

Later that evening, i get a call saying my bike has been loaded and will arrive in Hue just before i arrive there and i get the number of the guy in Hue, who will unload it for me. I’m starting to think this might work out. The next day i get on my train, it’s a hard sleeper, so there are 6 of us in there. We get talking to the other gentlemen in the cabin, one happens to work on the railways, he learns that i’m bringing my bike down on a train, at which point i show him the above handwritten “ticket”. He puts on that incredulous look from above, and asks whether he can call the guy for me. I say “of course”, hoping that this guy will provide me with more assurance. He calls and confirms with my man that my bike is on its way as planned. Relief is starting to envelop me and i’m able to get some sleep on the train. In the morning i’m awoken by a call from the Hue guy who has unloaded my bike, although having just woken up, i couldn’t understand anything he was saying, i simply reply with ok, not knowing what i’ve agreed to. My fellow cabin mate has taken it upon himself to sort it all out for me, he calls the Hue guy and arranges for the bike to be driven to the station, apparently it was unloaded 10km out of Hue. I get off the train, follow my cabin mate through some VIP exit and find my bike sitting out the front, with more petrol in it than when it started the journey. The Hue guy calls me, comes out and gives me the key, he sees my cabin mate, and they laugh and shake hands, of course they know eachother.

This story sums it up pretty well for me about how things get done in Vietnam. You got to know people, paper contracts mean diddly squat. My man is obviously in the train business, that’s why he hangs around the station in Hanoi, he knows the freight train guys, and knows that their handshake and their word that it would get done holds a lot of meaning, i.e it means we all get paid, and next time, we’ll do business again, failure to carry out the agreement would have been serious loss of face. All my fretting was unnecessary, i should’ve known after all this time, stuff works out here, it’s just not in the usual “Sir, here is your printed ticket” manner with which i’m used to.

Lesson two, is that people are nosy, but that’s neither a good or bad thing, it’s just what people do, they are nosy because they like gossip, but it also means you’ll have folks like my cabin mate taking it upon himself to sort out my motorbike woes, which is better than someone you share a cabin with for 12 hours who refuses to make eye contact and pretends there is no one there. We (as in western folks) love our privacy and the not staring at eachother, but there’s a lot to be gained from making your business everyones else’s business and vice versa, as Geroge Costanza said “You know, we’re living in a society!”

In a previous organisation I was replaced by a human sized inflatable penguin. Apparently it sat at my old desk for several months with my name tag on it, and no one noticed, except to comment that i had looked decidedly more handsome in my new suit and was much better with children rubbing my belly.

I’ve crossed this bridge just about everyday for the last 6 months, which in some tiny way has led to its rather dilapidated condition, that and the fact that it is over 100 years old, has been bombed over the course of several wars, doubles as a market place, wedding photo venue and has to withstand litres of urine a day as people often feel the need to relieve themselves over this 2.5km stretch.

I am once again uprooting for possibly the last time in Hanoi  and moving back to civilisation as some might call it. This side of Long Bien bridge, i.e the east is considered by “true” Hanoians as not really Hanoi, it’s the wrong side of the tracks, if the tracks happened to be running in a north-south direction which is not true in this case, so perhaps a more appropriate phrase would be the wrong side of the river. The mention that i live out here is usually met with gasps and occasional fainting at how far away from everything it is, but in reality it’s only a short often potty-mouthed motorbike ride over an iconic bridge from Hanoi’s old quarter.

The city end of Long Bien Bridge is actually one of the poorest areas of Hanoi, with many practically homeless and lotsa heroin use. For slightly more real life around Long Bien bridge pics, this is a good album.

So I’ve had by far my biggest holiday adventure in Vietnam so far over Tết (Vietnamese Lunar New Year) where we get a week off work. The only problem is the whole city shuts down as everyone goes back to their quê (home town). If I was a good Vietnamese boy, I’d head down to Ca Mau in the very deep south of Vietnam or at least visit my remaining direct relatives down in Saigon. But I’m not a very good Vietnamese boy (and my Saigon uncle was off gallivanting on his first trip to Oz, where the rest of his family has abandoned him to), so instead I left Hanoi on a 6 day motorbike trip with a couple of friends.

Our total planning would have taken up all of about 10 minutes discussion, actually telling eachother we should meet up and talk about it took longer. Guided by an ancient war map with outdated names and missing major geographical features from the last decade or so, we ended up going from Hanoi – Son Tay – Mai Chau – Tan Xuan – Moc Chau – Phu Yen – Yen Bai – Phu Tho – Hanoi.

Highlights included:

- Breathing clean air and driving on near empty roads.
- Driving into Mai Chau Valley (amazing scenery)

(click for bigger pic)

- Hanging out with local White Thai students who fed and watered us and forced us to merrily sing to/with them.

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- Being stuck overnight in the forest near the Laos border and being interrogated (for hours) by the local authorities after straying and taking directions and suggestions from various strangers. The authorities even borrowed my torch to assist them in interrogating us as their village was blacked out. They seemed uninterested in a watermelon we had brought along as a potential offering. It was a fine watermelon. A good account of it written by Ben is here.

- Driving through towns with local villagers waving and cheering at us, my closest experience to participating in a Tour de France I suspect.

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- Reaching a massive lake (not on our map) with colourful hills on the way to Phu Yen. The drive into and around this lake was unexpectedly spectacular, no one talks about this place as far as I know and we didn’t see any other westerners all trip. The sun was even in rare winter shining form that day.

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I could talk about it in more detail but I’m lazy and my fellow biker Ben has written a good account of it, complete with a video montage, here, here, here and here.

Nothing says happy new new year more than a watermelon on your balcony with a “happy new year” sticker on it.

Most activities that involve sitting in Vietnam will likely be facilitated by a plastic stool if anything at all. Plastic stools range from the tiny plastic stool which is really just the lazy man’s squat to a full adult sized chair with a backrest. The one I had was a tall variety without a backrest, similar to the top most picture. They also tend to come in red, yellow and green but i don’t think i’ve ever seen black.

It was kind of a lucky break I had though. I was coming to the end of a meeting and was just chatting casually with colleagues when the *crack* sound came which you wouldn’t hear in a crowded Little Italy restaurant or Dinh Liet Bia Hoi for instance. This triggered my training instincts to tense up my quad muscles and go into a kind of tall squat formation. As the crumbling of the chair leg occurred I was able to remain reasonably upright, I thought about preforming a backward roll, but figured it would just be showing off and rather unusual for my colleagues to see, then came the reflex to in a flash replace the broken stool with a fresh one and lay on the “a chair didn’t just break from under me, let’s get on with the meeting” face. My colleagues didn’t know what hit ‘em as the conversation flowed naturally onto why I wasn’t married and how that made me ugly and pitiable.

On another sojourn down to Ninh Binh for a countryside wedding, involving characters from a previous adventure, I came across a book. “The Mystery of Chimney Rock”, number 5 of the “Choose Your Own Adventure” series, a mere 121 pages and yet 36 different endings, truly amazing. It brought me back to my primary school days when all i could read were these books. When I had supposedly grown out of them by the age of 11, I simply stopped reading rather than being subjected to the linear constraints of traditional novels. I at least wanted to pretend I had some say in what was going to happen.

In the hotel lobby we stayed at in Ninh Binh, there was a small mediciney cabinet on the wall stuffed with books, literally. Opening the sliding cabinet door meant shredding some of the books that were squeezed inside. It looked as though it was filled with books from travellers that had left them behind, “The Mystery of Chimney Rock” stood out, possibly because of the gaze of the cat’s eyes on the cover. The staff were genuinely taken aback that we could be at all interested in this cabinet of decaying books. For some nostalgic reason I guess I built up some sort of resolve that meant this book must come into my possession (“my precious” like). The staff must have read into this and made sure that I could only bargain it down to 30000vnd from 40000vnd, in full knowing that surely nobody in their right mind would perhaps even notice this cabinet let alone want to own an item from it. I felt slightly cheated seeing as I had never paid for a CYOA book, but it was a small price to pay for something that had to be.

It was an entertaining light afternoon’s reading in any case, even if I did manage to die several times. However, the “other” mystery of chimney rock is that it obviously had a previous owner, whose details were on the inside cover. I wonder if this person has the full set of CYOA books, but is now only missing number 5, and their only reason to live is to recover this book. If this did happen to be the case, and if anybody happens to know a person called Emma, who lived in a Mount Waverley, Melbourne probably as a 10 year old in the late 80’s and travelled to Vietnam and left behind a book that they are now continually searching for because they have no other reason to live, or perhaps would just think it neat to have it returned to them, then let me know.

(p.s above photo taken from my new house, I’m in a loft with a little balcony that overlooks what you see in the picture, I like it, it makes me feel like I’m living in a hub. Directly below the balcony I’m standing on is a little alleyway rice stand. It means I have to enter and exit my house outside of lunch hours as otherwise I can’t get my motorbike out, it also means I get to sample homemade, if somewhat oily, Vietnamese dishes right on my doorstep.)