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We arrived in Hanoi around ten at night and were assaulted by taxi drivers... We had however pre-booked a hotel and driver so smugly passed through - they weren't going to rip us off tonight - ha ha!

Our 'taxi' was a heap of scrap, held together by stubborn rust and Isobel reckons the drive into Hanoi was about the most dangerous we'd taken yet - our driver seemed to have no concept of traffic signals, other road users or the use of headlights. He slammed the brakes on and hooted at shadows thrown up by cars on the other side of the road - nothing there...

The hotel we'd booked, the Classic Street Hotel, had warned us they were fully booked but had promised to get us a room nearby for a night. The room we got was distastefully decorated with Chinese repro-furniture, and was damp - bed sheets included. However, we were not keen on trying our luck elsewhere so simply ignored the pains as best we could.

We changed hotel every night after that while in Hanoi... Sometimes because we did not like the place, other times because the places we liked were fully booked. Ironically, our favourite was the Classic Street in the Old Quarter - the only place we felt we could trust the staff!

The Old Quarter of Hanoi has a distinct French feel about it - narrow streets lined with quaint townhouses, fading distemper paint on the walls, cyclists passing with baguettes under their arms, a whiff of garlic on every corner (actually, strike that - its fish paste) and distinctly arrogant and rude people.

Beating our way past the constant shoe shine, postcard and moto touts, we spend the next week or so visiting the pickpocket riddled Water Puppet Theatre, toured the City (including the legendary Hanoi Hilton) and spent a few dollars on local crafts. We also celebrated Isobels birthday here in a lovely French restaurant where the owner sang 'Bon Anniversaire' as he presented a huge chocolate cake.

From Hanoi we also took up a few out of town tours at the Ozzie owned 'Kangaroo Cafe' (we didn't trust the local ones - all of which lied about their itineraries) - the rice paddies of Tam Coc and the beautiful islands of Halong Bay - where we met a few more charismatic Brits.

We'd become quite accustomed to the touts and backstreets of Hanoi by the time our departure was due. Even haggling with the ever overcharging moto drivers had become an amusing activity. Indeed, I almost feel ready to visit France now...

Our next stop, the Demilitarized Zone near the town of Hué - an overnight train journey away.

'Hen Gap Lai' Hanoi!

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