I struggle with my vow to restrain from moral and political statements in these writings. Despite an excellent night's sleep in a comfortable berth on the night train from Hue and checking into a very hospitable, nice hotel, this is the most stressed I have felt on the trip.
We just had a fine lunch in the Hanoi Opera District. We were seated at a sidewalk cafe on a street that must rival Beverly Hills' Rodeo Drive. The new white Rolls Royce only blocked a little of our view. There was the least traffic noise of anywhere we have been yet so it was hard to miss the snarl of the bright yellow Aston Martin passing by on its way to park across from the huge Hilton Hanoi Opera Hotel - not the Hanoi Hilton you have probably heard of - next to the Mont Blanc store. The young Vietnamese women seated at the table next to us, sipping fancy cocktails I would not recognise, barely looked away from their Iphones and Ipads as the shoeshine man bowed down, replacing on their feet the high heels that could not have been shinier before he polished them. Their Louis Vitton scarves carelessly touched the ground. There were only a few customers in the large Longchamps shop next door. The cars, BMW's, Porsches, Audis, Bentleys, those I recognise. The shops on the other hand, Cartier, Canali, Escada, Etro, van Laack, and others, even though I come from what is still the world's richest economy, some of those I had to Google.
I can only hope that Buffalo and Bao Ninh (read The Sorrow of War, isbn:1573225436) never see this place. TR
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