Our first visit to Hong Kong and Lantau Island was all too brief, less than a week. And now it was time to move on to Hanoi, which is also a first for us. Saying goodbye to our congenial Airbnb host, May, we head out in a slight rain to catch the bus. It takes us back over the mountains where we have traveled before, and we even get another view of the aerial tramway that whisks people to the Big Buddha, which we’d visited.

We have to change buses to get to the airport, and once we get there, we find very polite and helpful security personnel — they even carry our trays over to the reassembly area from the screening belt. That’s another first, for sure.

The airport has 530 gates; in order to get to ours, we have to take a train, which is packed with few seats available. We have plenty of time to kill, especially since the plane is an hour late. To our delight, the Hong Kong airport has hot water dispensing stations, so we can make our own tea. Ordinarily the only option would be to buy some overpriced swamp sludge from McDonald’s or whatever. As we sit enjoying our home (sort of) brewed tea and taking care of computer work while waiting for our transport to Vietnam, we’re amused to see a couple of kids riding on the top of wheeled suitcases that are designed to hold such passengers. Can we have a turn too?

Per our usual plan, Dennis has booked the aisle seat on the plane (for easier access to the bathroom) and Kimberly has booked the window seat (for easier access to photography). Except that this time, the window seat turns out to be… not so windowy. She’s seated next to an exit, which has no window; so her only option is to take a photo of the wall instead.

This time we’ve succeeded in snagging vegetarian meals — even a vegan for Kimberly. Actually the two meals are identical except for the desserts: slices of fruit versus some sort of watermelon gelatin. The main course is a large dumpling containing some kind of paste made with beans and grains, with a sauce. Accompanied by a green vegetable and some pieces of carrot. Not bad, and it will hold us over until getting settled in Hanoi.

Be warned that when you arrive at the Hanoi airport and go through immigration, you’ll be confronted with a whirligig of confusion, a catch-as-catch can or can’t. It was not clear which line we were supposed to get into, and it didn’t matter because there really was no line for a while — just a massive blob of flesh moving willy-nilly. Finally, it did form itself into a line. And then after we’d waited in it for some time, inching along glacially, latecomers from another arriving flight swarmed in and nosed ahead of us. Somehow the blob reformed into two lines. Our line is feeding into one booth, and the other one is feeding into three booths.

Fortunately, our visas for Vietnam, which we obtained online, arrived the day before our departure. Somehow we’d neglected to apply for them when we should have — plus the process took longer than usual this time, so we really cut it close. Had they not arrived, we would have had to go the visa on arrival route at the airport, which would have involved paying again, and even more time standing in a line. Or a blob. Let this be a lesson, kiddies: stay on top of the visa process, and plan it well in advance.

Finally surviving the gauntlet, we seek out an ATM and withdraw half a million dong. (Pick your jaw up off the floor; that’s less than 40 dollars.) And then we go outside to snag some transportation, dodging the taxi drivers trying to hustle us with their relatively luxurious rides.

The number 50 bus is what we’re seeking, but we have a hard time locating it. We end up walking in a circle, returning back to where we began, and lo and behold, the 50 is there now. After a short wait, we board and it takes off. As is customary on Vietnamese buses, we pay our fare to an attendant who is riding in the rear. But we don’t have exact change or anything anywhere near it, having acquired large bills from the ATM. The fare is only 30,000 dong, and the attendant doesn’t have enough in the pack of bills he carries to break 500,000. But he still manages to make the transaction by digging into his own pocket.

After checking into our cozy little apartment, we go out to buy groceries and supplies. First the nearby Fujimart, and then we catch a bus to Lotte Mall, one of a chain of Lotte retail outlets throughout Asia. The mall is both expansive and expensive. There are mostly upscale stores, and the layout offers a great deal of breathing room in the middle. The mall does at least have what we’re really looking for: namely, a supermarket. It’s crowded and hectic and has terrible music playing, but we do manage to find most of what we need. It has a particularly excellent bakery, where we buy some delicious rice buns and devour them while we finish shopping. We were also bemused by the security guard whose sole job seemed to be monitoring the escalator.

It was our original plan to hit the town in grand style the following day, as there are several points of interest on our Hanoi bucket list — including the museum at the former Hoa Lo Prison, which American POWs dubbed Hanoi Hilton. But the next day we’re confronted with a thunderstorm that is almost as frenetic as the scene at immigration. So, not wanting to get soaked or struck by lightning, we delay our itinerary for a day, and take advantage of the opportunity to rest up, do laundry, and take care of business. But brace yourself, Hanoi: once the storm passes, we’re going to take you by storm.

Events occurred: 7/1 – 7/3/2025