The Travelling Fairy DancerHanoi Curfew
March 3rd 2008 07:59
Frantically, the bar staff shut the curtains, lowered the music levels and closed the bar.
The face of the girl next to me, mouth open with a forgotten vodka in her hand, faded as the lights were dimmed.
"Holy shit! What the hell's all this then?" An English accent cut through the thickening silence.
My heart started to beat fast when I saw torch beams, outside, peering in through the cracks of the curtains like little alien eyes.
"Curfew." Whispered the girl beside me, a trickle of vodka spilling onto my leg as she spoke.
Sweat broke out on my face and thoughts of being hauled off to a flea infested Vietnamese prison pounded my brain.
Sillouettes of uniformed men, stiff hats outlined in the dark, formed pictures worthy of nightmares outside, but all was silent within.
Minutes later, subtly and without announcement, the lights came back up, music resumed (albeit softly) and the bar was magically re-staffed.
Among the locals, normal converstation commenced while the foreigners, myself included, made a beeline for the exit, sneaking off down ancient alley-ways, past enchanting Hoan Kiem Lake; all anxious to avoid the police en-route to our hotels.
Hanoi's Old Quarter is a fascinating jumble of crumbling streets, shops and more than 1000 years of history. Within the walls hidden bars and astounding surprises can be found; some splendid, some hideous.
The crime rate is low, friendliness high, but make sure you watch the clock at night.
Midnight strikes and curfew reigns. May your fairy god mother see you home safe, as mine did.
The face of the girl next to me, mouth open with a forgotten vodka in her hand, faded as the lights were dimmed.
"Holy shit! What the hell's all this then?" An English accent cut through the thickening silence.
My heart started to beat fast when I saw torch beams, outside, peering in through the cracks of the curtains like little alien eyes.
"Curfew." Whispered the girl beside me, a trickle of vodka spilling onto my leg as she spoke.
Sweat broke out on my face and thoughts of being hauled off to a flea infested Vietnamese prison pounded my brain.
Sillouettes of uniformed men, stiff hats outlined in the dark, formed pictures worthy of nightmares outside, but all was silent within.
Minutes later, subtly and without announcement, the lights came back up, music resumed (albeit softly) and the bar was magically re-staffed.
Among the locals, normal converstation commenced while the foreigners, myself included, made a beeline for the exit, sneaking off down ancient alley-ways, past enchanting Hoan Kiem Lake; all anxious to avoid the police en-route to our hotels.
Hanoi's Old Quarter is a fascinating jumble of crumbling streets, shops and more than 1000 years of history. Within the walls hidden bars and astounding surprises can be found; some splendid, some hideous.
The crime rate is low, friendliness high, but make sure you watch the clock at night.
Midnight strikes and curfew reigns. May your fairy god mother see you home safe, as mine did.
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Comment by Harry
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Comment by Nicoletta
Travel Magic
Yes, dubbed the 'fun police'. Makes for an interesting evening though!