I woke up at 8:30 this morning. As expected in a 12-person hostel dorm, someone is always an early riser and leaves in the morning. So even with earplugs and an eye mask, I guess the vibrations and noises wake me up.
There was a walking tour at 9 today. Joining it also meant taking part in a "group activity," which I'm not very used to. It's a tour to stroll around Hanoi while mingling with travelers from various countries I met at the hostel. The hostel organizes it and announces it on WhatsApp. It's such an amazing service — they actually provide reasons to connect people.
Opportunities like this are rare, and diving in would push me out of my comfort zone. That's precisely why I wanted to shove myself into it. That's what I thought.
...But I was too sleepy. I didn't have that kind of energy.
As a result, I woke up at noon. Since they were running it again tomorrow, I applied for tomorrow's event. At first I was nervous even to request to join the WhatsApp group, but today I was able to send it in an instant. This is how it should be, I thought.
Still, my mental state varies so much from day to day. What on earth is that about? Maybe I'm getting a bit more conservative as I get older. But I tell myself that's not acceptable.
Today I did feel like seeing Ann again, whom I met yesterday. But honestly I was half tired. So I decided not to invite her and went to the military museum.
The museum is about 10 km from the city center, roughly a 30-minute ride by motorbike taxi. The fare was about 500 yen. I arrived at 3 pm, and it was just so hot.
The admission was 40,000 dong, about 200 yen. Public facilities in Vietnam are really cheap.
Inside, helicopters and aircraft wreckage that were used at the time line both sides, along with the downed B52 fuselage and ammunition, all displayed vividly. Again, I was struck by how tank armor is rock-hard. I had knocked on tanks at the military museum in Ho Chi Minh City too — they're really hard.
And yet they still get destroyed. Thinking about that, you can't help but feel the enormity of war.
In Vietnam, shooting down American planes is highly celebrated, and they had engines, ammunition, and even the clothes and belongings pilots wore on display. The building itself was enormous — you couldn't help thinking 'how big is this?' It had a scale that reminded me of Russia's Hermitage Museum.
Due to time constraints I could only see the first floor this time, but it displayed not only the wars but also the fight against the Pol Pot regime, the French colonial era, and even ancient Vietnamese history. Everything, including weapons used back then, was really fascinating.
Vietnam's history is very raw. That's exactly why it's worth seeing and worth knowing. I thought museums are important places that tell these stories so the past won't be repeated.
At the same time I thought about how privileged my generation is. We haven't experienced war or military service. Just that fact shows how fortunate we are.
On the other hand, I also wondered if being born in a time of war might have made me mentally unified and more centered. Today's generation, lacking those extreme experiences, tends to have a shakier core. Maybe that's inevitable.
Still, how did people fighting in jungles and forests keep themselves hydrated? In an era with no sports drinks like Pocari Sweat. One canteen bottle would never be enough, I think. Vietnam's forests are really hot. If I had been there, I'd have definitely suffered heatstroke.
There were also exhibits about the Pol Pot regime and the war with China, and I strongly felt how much suffering Vietnam has experienced. Perhaps that's precisely why the country is now undergoing such rapid economic growth.
When I left the museum, my head started aching again. I think it was from being under the blazing sun.
I hailed a motorbike taxi and headed to the Japanese quarter. I stopped by a shop for Japanese customers called "Hanoi Shoten." The clerk greeted me in Japanese with 'irasshaimase.'
They had a matcha Basque cheesecake so I ordered it, but honestly it wasn't very good. Seven-Eleven's is ten times better. Still, I thought maybe that's not what to expect here.
There were also a few Japanese people in the store, and the moment I heard Japanese my body reacted and I found myself retreating into my shell.
So I thought I shouldn't go back to Japan. When I return, I naturally retreat into a shell. Past painful memories and traumas might flash back. It might be better not to go back if possible.
After that I went to a ie-kei ramen shop in the Japanese quarter. I like ie-kei, so I went in with expectations. The staff spoke Japanese, so we communicated in Japanese.
What I realized here is the importance of speaking in a language someone is trying hard to learn. If I had been studying French desperately and was working in France, and I spoke French only to be answered in English, I'd probably feel hurt. This is something to really watch out for.
To be honest, the ramen wasn't great. It lacked depth. I thought I probably won't come back. But it's an experience.
After that I headed to a cafe I wanted to go to, but it was closed. I had no choice but to walk to another cafe. Along the way I stopped at a famous spot along the train tracks. A train happened to be passing, so I ran to get ready to film. I shot while listening to the main theme from Star Wars.
It's a spot I photographed two years ago, but this time it had developed even more, with a ton more cafes. The sound of the train is unbelievably loud. It's a level where noise-cancelling would scream.
I filmed with my iPhone and Osmo Pocket, and when I checked satisfied... the Osmo Pocket hadn't recorded.
Really disappointing. But I guess it just wasn't meant to be.
Then I went to a cafe and spent time writing in my journal and doing some work.
That was my day.
