This weekend was brilliant in Hanoi, with the sun shining, blue skies as far as the eyes could see, temperatures in the 30 degree zone and light breezes. As my Latin American friends would say, the climate was "sabroso!".
Recovering from my stubborn cold, I decided against going to yoga class at 8:30am and instead ate Lindt chocolates which Monica gave me for Christmas while reading "Love in the Time of Cholera" and sipping coffee in bed. The perfect Saturday morning.
Then, I took myself out to lunch at one of Hanoi's best loved Italian restaurants. Luna d'Autonno is located next to the traintracks (literally), in an unasuming alley that leads to a quiet courtyard. As you walk into the restaurant's entrance, you can peek through the kitchen windows and see young Vietnamese tossing pizza pies. There are upwards of 5-7 daily specials and the menu is quite extensive, with antipasto, pasta, salads, pizza and dessert. The pasta is home made, with the freshest of ingredients. I settled on the spinach and ricotta ravioli in a garlic, basil, cherry tomato sauce and my taste buds thanked me.
My other favourite Italian restaurant, called Mediteranneo, is located on Nha Tho street in downtown Hanoi. The pasta is also home made here and I often gravitate toward the penne, mushroom and sausage combination or the delectable caprese salad - tomato with grilled zucchini in olive oil and buffalo mozarella (which is made fresh on premises). The staff is very friendly and if I stay away for too long they always chide me, "Where have you been??!"
Who would have known that moving to Hanoi would actually bring me closer to Italy?
After lunch, I walked to my gym, logged in an hour and a half and made my way home. I had dinner with Tommi, Monica and adorable Little Gemma that evening at their house in Tay Ho, and Tommi plied me with so drinks that I woke up the next day with a dull headache. Good times!
It was a struggle, but I pried myself out of bed on Sunday morning and hopped on a motorbike to the War Museum on Dien Bien Phu street. The museum had always nagged me in terms of "things to do" before I leave, so it gave me great pleasure to actually strike it off the list.
The stand-out for me was a room devoted to "War Mothers" near the rear of the museum, which paid homage to women who were instrumental during the war. And it was while I was standing on the grounds, staring at the pieces of an American B-52 plane, I couldn't help but think of a story that my friend Robert had told me a few weeks ago over cafe lattes near Hoan Kiem Lake.
Robert, an Australian consultant, told me a story about one of his Australian friends who had had a particularly difficult time at the War Museum. Robert's friend, standing at 6'4", went to the War Museum and was moved to tears. He was draft age during the Vietnam war, but thankfully wasn't called to serve. At the museum, Robert's friend kept thinking about how lucky he was, the friends he had lost, and how incredible it was that the Vietnamese were so able to forgive and move on from such a devastating event, while for many American and Australian soldiers, the war continues to wreck havoc in their minds.
After lunch, I walked to my gym, logged in an hour and a half and made my way home. I had dinner with Tommi, Monica and adorable Little Gemma that evening at their house in Tay Ho, and Tommi plied me with so drinks that I woke up the next day with a dull headache. Good times!
It was a struggle, but I pried myself out of bed on Sunday morning and hopped on a motorbike to the War Museum on Dien Bien Phu street. The museum had always nagged me in terms of "things to do" before I leave, so it gave me great pleasure to actually strike it off the list.
The stand-out for me was a room devoted to "War Mothers" near the rear of the museum, which paid homage to women who were instrumental during the war. And it was while I was standing on the grounds, staring at the pieces of an American B-52 plane, I couldn't help but think of a story that my friend Robert had told me a few weeks ago over cafe lattes near Hoan Kiem Lake.
Robert, an Australian consultant, told me a story about one of his Australian friends who had had a particularly difficult time at the War Museum. Robert's friend, standing at 6'4", went to the War Museum and was moved to tears. He was draft age during the Vietnam war, but thankfully wasn't called to serve. At the museum, Robert's friend kept thinking about how lucky he was, the friends he had lost, and how incredible it was that the Vietnamese were so able to forgive and move on from such a devastating event, while for many American and Australian soldiers, the war continues to wreck havoc in their minds.
A little Vietnamese toddler distracted Robert's friend from thoughts. Robert's friend picked the toddler up and the kid squealed with joy. "If they did to us what we did to them," he said to Robert with tears streaming down his face, "We would never be able to forgive them. It's a miracle that this little boy is standing here with me."
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