A foolish assumption

So I head out of the hotel after a nice breakfast. It is overcast and threatening drizzle. I weigh the choices ... go walking and if the rain gets too heavy, hop a cab to the hotel OR go later. I figure since it's not sunny, humid, and 42 degrees, this may be my best chance to see Hanoi without the unbearable heat.

I take 2 quick rights heading out of the hotel, into a direction I had not yet pursued. The streets were busy already amidst the normal din of honking of horns from passing vehicles. These people seem to need to blow their horns, maybe it increases their gas mileage. Even when there is no looming obstacle to announce one's arrival, beep beep goes the horn anyways. It's a cacophony of horns somewhat reminiscent of a symphony of birds chirping with delight as they chow down on some repast.

The streets get narrower and are mainly populated by sidewalk stands selling everything ... and I do mean everything. Vendors are pushing a wide selection of animal innards and a cornucopia of really varied and colourful fruits. I was told by Claude yesterday that no matter what these people eat, there is always the familiar spinach-like greens steamed with garlic on the table. The clothing stores abound as well as footwear establishments probably selling stuff made in the region but mostly China.

So my foolish assumption is that I will be able to enjoy Hanoi in 35 degree overcast low humidity; that is short lived as less than an hour later, the seemingly ideal conditions do to this stupid ferenge what the 42/humid does to me too. I climb in a cab to get back to the Horison and say "ayn koh kway kuong" which I was led to believe is "how are you?". For all I know it could have been a phrase from Monty Python's famous dirty Hungarian phrasebook that first aired in 1970. Back in the bunker at the hotel, hiding from the heat rather than armed insurgents.