Tag 1 - Arriving in Hanoi, Coffee, Têt and Phò

The first thing that greets me when I step on Vietnamese soil is the wind. Cool and gusty, it blows across the airport grounds. After waiting for over 30 minutes for the bus to Hanoi city center, it becomes clear that I need to fetch my lightweight down jacket from my backpack to protect me from the winter weather back home. After another 60 minutes of waiting in the cold, I am glad I made that decision. It's only 11°C on my first day in Vietnam, and the wind makes it feel even colder, just like home.

Just as the waiting passengers at the bus stop had decided to take a taxi together into the city, the bus 86 finally arrives. After boarding the bus, we wait another 20 minutes for the young bus driver to get in and take us to the city center. At least we are sheltered from the wind inside the bus.

What happens next is almost comical. After starting from Terminal 1 (International), the bus jerks and judders its way to Terminal 2 (Domestic). I appreciate the driver's desire to drive at low speed, but I keep worrying that the engine will stutter to a stop any moment. In addition, there are numerous stops to greet other bus drivers and let some airport staff join us unexpectedly. This also leads to us taking another detour to Terminal 1 after stopping at Terminal 2 to drop off the impromptu airport staff we picked up.

Eventually, we finally continue towards the city center. The sky is cloudy, and the traffic is relatively smooth, probably due to the ongoing Têt, the Vietnamese New Year. During these holidays, the Vietnamese people close their shops and travel to their relatives in the countryside. As we enter the city, this is evident from the numerous lowered shutters. I can only experience the vibrant Hanoi in a few days when daily life returns.

I am currently sitting in a small café in Hanoi's Old Quarter, sipping on a classic Vietnamese milk coffee made with condensed milk. The sweetened coffee helps to balance out the extremely bitter taste of the strong brew. That's exactly what I need after a long journey and a night flight that didn't allow for much sleep.

I continue exploring Hanoi's Old Quarter. The streets have been adorned with red flags, garlands, and peach blossoms for the New Year festival. The Vietnamese people themselves have also dressed up for the occasion. Particularly the female population is dressed in red, white, and gold outfits. The color red is very prominent, representing luck. Children receive money in red envelopes during the New Year festival.

The young and young-at-heart ladies pose in their festive outfits in front of the decorated facades. It's not easy to stroll through the streets while dodging not only the mopeds but also the locals eager to take photos.

After all, a tourist cannot live on coffee alone, so I embark on the search for the first culinary challenge of my trip: Phò.

The rich beef or chicken broth is prepared with rice noodles and various meat or fish toppings. Each family seems to have their own recipe. I'm not even sure if I always want to know what's in it.

However, the exciting part about Phò is not its contents but the surroundings. While they are referred to as street kitchens, the concept of a "kitchen" is stretched quite far here. From a distance, you can recognize the kitchens by the plastic chairs and tables, which belong more to a doll's kitchen than the sidewalk.

Speaking of sidewalks: when they are not used as dining rooms, they serve as parking lots for mopeds. Walking along the sidewalk becomes a challenge.

But back to Phò: in the midst of the seating areas for the daredevils, the matron of the house stands in front of a table or shelf where all the soup ingredients are displayed. With the help of the younger generation, she deftly uses her hands to distribute noodles, meat, and other toppings into bowls. Next to her is a large pot of steaming broth, which is distributed into the bowls by another family member. The bowls are then handed out to the waiting guests. In a small, open space that truly lives up to the term "bathroom," the broth supply is prepared over an open fire in a large pot.

If reading about this hasn't already ruined your appetite, then maybe you shouldn't continue reading. Because, dear stay-at-homers, the absolute highlight of my observations was the washing system. The dishes are washed in three large plastic tubs on the curb: one tub for leftovers, one for soapy water, and one for increasingly less clear rinse water over time. Upon seeing this, a civilized European either needs strong nerves or a cast-iron stomach - ideally both.

Whether I passed this test will be revealed tomorrow at the latest. If you don't hear from me tomorrow, you'll know that I have sacrificed myself at the altar of gastronomic experimental sciences. With that said, sending you greetings from Hanoi and asking for prayers for the well-being of my stomach.