Hanoi, Thursday. It was a short flight of 100 minutes from Siem Reap but what a contrast! The large red flag with giant golden star at the airport was the first reminder of being in a communist country. Janet was not relaxed. It was very cool and drizzled. It took an hour to go through immigration and three simultaneous flights emptied their luggage on to one conveyor belt so it was an hour before we went in search of a taxi in the rain and dark.
A tout offered the half-hour ride into the city for $20 but I'd seen on the internet it was usually $13, so I kept looking until an official looking man (well, he spoke English) said $13 was correct and he would find us a taxi van. Where did we want to go? I said Prince #1 Hotel. One appeared very quickly and we were loaded.
The young driver spoke no English and drove furiously, bipping his horn repeatedly every few seconds all the way into the city, clicking on and off his turn indicator. It was non-sensical to keep sounding the horn so I wondered whether he was on drugs or just agitated. He went down some dark streets and suddenly stopped outside a tiny hotel which he said was Prince #1, the hotel where I had booked on the internet months earlier. But this was not Prince # anything - it was the Blue Lotus or something. A young man jumped in, showing me a tattered business card with Prince #1 Hotel printed along the top edge. He was trying to convince me most volubly that we were at a subsidiary of Prince Hotel. I would not budge and neither would he get out. The driver started up and we drove to another tiny hotel which he said was the real Prince Hotel. This was the Green Dragon or something. Again I would not budge and was becoming angry and very determined. Suddenly, he opened the taxi door and exited. After that, the young horn-happy driver took us to Prince Hotel #1 where he had no change for $20 note.
I would not pay until he brought the bags into the hotel but he would not budge from his van. A hotel staffman helped us and in the foyer I found $13 and took it to the driver parked in the street. He was clearly frightened of something. A hotel man told me they have to try to move tourists to the tiny hotels and their jobs are on the line if they can't convince the tourists the change was genuine. This kid was not going to earn anything much for the night. I gave him a dollar tip and the change was instantaneous - a huge smile and thank you.
I would not relinquish the passports and while details were copied, Janet struggled up three flights of narrow stairway into a shuttered, marble-floored room. Air-cond, cable TV, wifi (I have my laptop), good beds, separate bathroom and fridge. All for $25 a night, and overlooking a busy little streetscene with constant honking motorbikes. But now it's time to go to street level in the drizzling rain and look for something to eat.
