Not That Impressed

We've been shivering our way through a Hanoi that's mostly been shuttered for Tet. Tomorrow we head further south, and I'm not sad to leave. Hanoi residents have been unfailingly warm, but it's hard to muster enthusiasm for sitting on those tiny plastic chairs on the sidewalk and eating pho when the weather is barely in the 50s and a soft drizzle fills the days. And the allegedly indoor restaurants we've tried have tended to be freezing cold. Tonight, for instance, we ate in one called Old Hanoi, where the dining room was open to the outer patio. I sat there with my fleece jacket and wool scarf. Bob wore gloves, Daniel sulked and pointed out that he could see his breath. A great meal would have made this somewhat tolerable, but that wasn't in the cards. The other tables were filled with older French people on a tour. No Vietnamese dining there, which should have been a hint. Anyway, it's all part of travel, right? This morning Bob, Joanna and I jogged twice around Hoan Kiem Lake. I sometimes think the main reason to jog in unlikely places is just to see the reactions of people as you sail by them in shorts on a cold January day.