The first moments I met Hanoi were strange, unlike what I had imagined before…
1. Long lines of motorbikes, continuous like the clock hands of Hanoi's busyness. The nostalgic summer heat that lingered in the early autumn days fueled my fear of crossing the street. The first moments of meeting Hanoi were strange, unlike what I had imagined before.
But then…
The sudden seductive smell of vinegar from a row of vermicelli led me into a small alley, a world hidden by the mossy features of the old town. Scattered low plastic chairs nestled under the tangled power lines. Diners snuggled up with a steaming bowl of vermicelli, but didn't forget to smile, then slurp each spoonful of sour broth, in the honking sound of a few motorbikes wafting past.
From the small alley to the big street, the shape of 36 streets gradually molded my emotions. In the blink of an eye, my soul returned to Hanoi several hundred years ago. Behold, the aunts are so charming with their skirts, their jet-black smiles peeking out from under the shade of their hats with neat straps on their heads. Busy pho vendors all over the streets, disrupting the game of eating mandarin by a group of children playing nearby. The rickshaw driver staggered across the tram line and disappeared into the market street, as silent and blurred as the fate of the poor laborers at that time.
2. "Bread rolls, sticky rice, guys". The cry cut through the lines of imagination. I looked up at the mossy tiled roofs, on the close-knit old houses like in the street paintings of painter Bui Xuan Phai. Behold Cau Go Street, where there used to be a bridge over a small creek connecting to Hoan Kiem Lake. Lo Su street is so crowded now, it startled me when I learned that there used to be many coffin shops. Today's 36 streets are much different from those of the distant past, but the bustling character and especially the soul of the ancient Ke Cho still reigns forever and is what makes travelers flutter every time they remember Hanoi.
Temples and pagodas are intertwined with the city, an unmistakable feature of Hanoi. The roof typical of Northern architecture is hidden under the old banyan canopy covering a street corner. The faint scent of incense brought my mind to a pure realm, unconsciously folded my hands in gratitude to the ancestors who gave birth to the land of thousands of years of civilization.
3. I walked behind a flower shop girl, as shy as a boy following his mother to explore a new land. The flower basket woven by countless colors leads my soul to Hoan Kiem Lake.
The lake surface is like a magic mirror, casting jade green color into my dreamy eyes, falling to the ancient Turtle tower in the distance. The sound of the wind blows softly like an echo of history. The water ripples slightly as if patting the side of King Le's boat to return the precious sword to Kim Quy Than. The shadow of Hoa Phong tower on the lakeside brought me lost in the past region of a magnificent space when Bao Thien Pagoda still existed in the midst of immense waves, like an ancient painting. Now only faint nostalgia but deep regret remains.
Old dracontomelon trees led me to West Lake. I struggled to find the "ladder bamboo branches", tried to listen to the "Tran Vu bell" from the distant Quan Thanh temple, imagined the "Yen Thai pestle beat" from the old paper village, then all deposited on the sunset of "Tay Ho's mirror face".
To me, Hanoi is like a trendy senior, still keeping the long-standing traditional culture of the nation but accepting the positive changes of the new era. That makes me feel nostalgic every time my Hanoi love sickness rages.