Arriving in Hanoi
I was not prepared for the pollution that seemed to smother the city. It was like looking through a gray, dingy pair of goggles. We drove for a while before crossing the Nhật Tân Bridge over the Red River, with its five cable-stayed towers representing the five ancient gates of the fabled city. It was an impressive sight and marked the entrance to Hanoi. I could barely make out the towering skyscrapers across the river, even as their dazzling night lights began to burn. Set afire by the setting of an undefinable horizon point of the smog-choked sun.
A city of over 7 million people. It was far more populated than Da Nang and had one disadvantage. There were subtle signs of pollution in Da Nang, of course, dingy smog-painted storefronts and black watery streaked street signs, but she had something Hanoi did not. Da Nang’s proximity to the South China Sea ensures that she was purified daily by the cleansing power of the westerly sea breeze and monsoon-purging rains. Hanoi was nestled at the base of the Hoang Lien, Son, Nhat Son, and Bac Son mountain ranges. With the straights of Tonkin hundreds of miles away and Hanoi nestled at the apex of a natural funnel. The western wind pushed the smog into the city with nowhere to escape.
Finding Our Way
Her roads at her extremities were broad and, for the most part, light on traffic. It’s a very different scene from the one I left in Da Nang some 2 hours ago. This would quickly change. We continued into the city, her streets like a giant web, getting tighter with each turn. The colonial influence was everywhere, and the red-tiled rooftops dotted the urban landscape. We began to hug the west lake or Hồ Tây as we weaved around her gleaming banks.
The streets became increasingly narrow until we were on a street not much wider than the taxi we were inhabiting. The city had transformed into this organic living place with an elvish feel reminiscent of Rivendale in a Tolkien novel. The ever-shrinking streets were still lined with fruit-bearing trees, and their branches overhanging the streets gave it this forested mountain feel. One could be forgiven for forgetting that this city housed over 7 million people within her tightly-knit borders. 
Our Hotel
We had arrived at our hotel at the center of the spider web. Her trap had been set. I was deep within the labyrinth of Hanoi’s back streets. There was nowhere to escape. The taxi driver emptied our luggage from the trunk, and he pointed us a couple of doors up. The buildings were tall for the street size, and it was clear we must have been in a hotel district. We were staying at the Church Legend Hotel just up ahead on the left. We walked inside, checked in, and I was escorted to my room. The hotel was narrow, maybe 12 feet wide, and just deep enough to house two rooms per floor—one facing the street with a window, one without. Mine was without.
The elevator was the size of a large bathroom stall, and my luggage and the man from the front desk were about all that could be managed inside. The central marbled staircase was tight yet beautiful. This was a very different place from Da Nang, and I still had no idea how different it was. The room barely held the queen-sized bed, and there was no room for a full bathroom. The shower hung next to the toilet, and the water closet was a repository and a cleansing house.
Dinner Time
It was roughly 6:30 p.m., and it occurred to me that with the airport mishaps, I hadn’t eaten since I scarfed down the two small omelets some 11 hours ago. I asked Diem to escort me somewhere for dinner, where or what was insignificant. I wanted something hot and steaming, and I wanted it now. The faster I ate, the faster I would be asleep. Sleep was clawing at me as a junkie’s fix scratching at the back of the skull. The low throbbing pains of my heart beating within were a clear sign that jet lag had not been overcome, and I could not escape the sound of my blood as it coursed through my veins.
As I stepped into the busy street, I noticed it was cooler in this mountain city, and I was at peace with that. I hazily walked into a rice house three or four doors down. I couldn’t be sure. I was not very observant then, as my body had begun conserving energy for more critical functions. I sat on a small round stool on a bone-littered floor and ate the plate laid out before me. Rice, little ribs from lord knows what jungle mammal, steamed vegetables, and small strips of meat with green onions. A cat was removed from the seat across from me so Diem could sit and eat with me. A dog came down the stairs to clean the floor under the table next to ours, whose diners had just exited. An orange cat sat guard at the entrance like a sentinel at his post.
Sleep Is Unstoppable
I ate dinner, dropping the bones to the floor for the ever-thankful canine busboy. I then headed back to the hotel. Diem headed out to meet a girlfriend, and I took a shower. Happy for now to be alone. I fell back onto the bed like a zombie, still aware of my existence but unable to conjure even a slight movement. I was held captive in my own soft, comforting tomb. Sleep came over me like the angel of death; darkness filled every crevice of my being, releasing my pain, and I was spirited out of this, the realm of the living.
