Waking up in Hanoi

It’s 7.30am in Hanoi and I woke up 10 minutes ago. I am sitting on a miniature plastic stool hunched over a steaming bowl of pho in a tiny street stall around the corner from my house. It’s January and cold. I am trying to wake up before work and my bowl of chicken noodle soup, the signature dish of Vietnamese cuisine, is my remedy. I lean over my bowl, close my eyes and breathe in the steam with one deep breath, taking in the distinctive smell of the broth. I am the only foreigner but I feel at home. I squeeze in a quarter of a lemon, a spoonful of garlic sauce and a few drops of chili paste. With chopsticks in hand I start my day.

Vietnam is a country on the move. The pace of Hanoi is electric. From early morning the constant flow of motorbikes through the city streets is the blood driving the city forward. This stream of people are fed on nearly every street in the city as food stands, serving up a vast selection of tasty delights, offer cheap, quick and mouth watering meals. It is the western world’s version of fast-food, only much healthier. At breakfast, lunch and dinner you will find locals of all walks of life huddled together on street corners, sitting less than a foot off the ground, discussing their lives. They love their food and they should. This ingenious and deeply sociable cultural trait fits perfectly with the tempo of the city, contributing to its family atmosphere.

An old man sits opposite me, his face deeply creased. He grins and says “rat ngon” – delicious. I nod and say the same. His smile widens showing his few remaining teeth. Woken up, warm bellied and content I grab my bowl and drink the last of the broth. I don’t wait, as the stall is full, and others will soon want a seat. I pay about $1, start my bike and join the flow of traffic that keeps the city alive.