Hanoi, Vietnam

Good Morning Vietnam - well it was good until a deafening sit-you bolt-upright in your bed clanging of bells woke us from our peaceful slumbers at an unearthly hour. We had landed at Hanoi Airport from Siem Reap, Cambodia, at 11pm the previous night, and our hotel had arranged for a driver to meet us there, which he did. Strangely, though, he had a pal with him - the first time we have experienced two people waiting to pick us up. To be honest, arriving for the first time in Vietnam on a dark mist-shrouded night and finding two guys, who spoke not a word of English, occupying the front two seats of our taxi was a bit disconcerting and we both admitted to feeling a little uneasy. We were well aware of the scams that operate around the airport - one of them involves taxis and minibuses whisking hapless tourists and travellers off to a similarly named, but altogether different, hotel to the one booked. Our imaginations running riot - we were feeeling whacked and the journey in seemed endless - we thought at one stage we might be heading towards northern China never to be seen again! Silly us. Driver and mate, who sniffed, snorted and coughed almost non-stop, deposit us safely at our hotel in a dark Hanoi street and, despite it looking all locked up, there is someone at reception there to let us in. Shows us to our room - and proudly opens shutters to balcony which looks out on imposing Gothic cathedral of St Joseph's, architecturally looking much more English or French than Vietnamese. It's a serene moonlit evening, the street below us is quiet - and that peaceful easy feeling has returned. What our genial host has not revealed to us is that at 5am every morning the Notre Dame-like bells boom loud and proud for about 20 solid and earth-shaking minutes. Wake up Hanoi, it's time to get up - and no sleeping in for us either. After eventually rubbing the sleep from our eyes, we eat a quick breakfast before venturing out to the city's famous Old Quarter. We are about seven minutes walk away - and when we see the madness and chaos of Hanoi's major centre of commerce we are glad we are staying where we are - bells, or no bells. The OQ lies to the north of pretty tree-lined Hoan Kiem Lake and is the beating heart of the City of the Soaring Dragon. It's a maze of narrow streets, choked with thousands and thousands of motorcycles. The traffic and noise - a blare of honking horns - is unrelenting (even crazy Bangkok in traffic terms appears a backwater in comparison). Crossing any road here - particularly the wider boulevards which lead into the OQ - requires you to keep your antennae up at all times. Believe us, it's hairy out there, but we follow what the locals do - walking slowly and deliberately out into the traffic and allowing those motorbikes to go around us. One thing is sure as eggs - they won't stop for you, neither will they slow down, but they will do their best to avoid mowing you down. The worst thing you can do is to freeze mid-crossing. This is not recommended and could lead to a Hanoi hospital visit, or worse. It's not easy just walking straight out into the traffic, but unless you want to stay in your hotel room all day then you have to go for it. We do and, despite closing our eyes once or twice and praying for safe deliverance, we live to tell the tale. Surviving this urban jungle brings rich rewards - the Old Quarter itself. One thousand years old, this exotic and bewitching area oozes character from ever pore - rich in sights, sounds and smells. It simply pulsates with life. On every street there are hawkers selling their wares, while the aromas of sizzling food and spices on every corner make your mouth water. Despite the chaos - you must also step out into the road to avoid parked motorbikes and mopeds mounted on the pavements - the best way to savour and soak up this unique atmosphere is to walk (just be careful out there). Hanoi, though, is not just about the OQ. There is much more to it. Certainly one of the highlights is a visit to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. Deep in its bowels in a clear glass tomb lies the embalmed corpse of modern Vietnam's founding father - and its people's most revered figure, communist ideologist and liberator from French colonialism. Our trip to the Ho's complex proves a bizarre occasion. Pre-viewing, we must register and leave our possessions, including cameras and mobile phone, at a reception hall. Hats are to be removed and dress must be appropriate (shorts and sleeveless T-shirts are a no no). Then it's join-the-queue-time to file past the body. As you do, you are aware that you are being watched all the time - and you are, by countless military guards - silent sentinels - in spotless brilliant white uniform. It's all very sombre and heavy, macabre even, joining this snake-like mix of part-Vietnamese, part tourist procession - the locals coming here in their droves to pay their respects to perfectly-preserved Ho, his face a whiter shade of pale and his hair and wispy beard silver grey. Very weird and surreal. Also weird, but a lot more fun, is Hanoi's Water Puppet Theatre, a colourful and ancient art form that is a sort of Punch & Judy show on water. Unique to Vietnam and set to traditional music, the stage is set in a tank of waist-deep water, the puppeteers - each of 11 is trained for a minimum of three years - control their characters (villagers, farmers, fishermen, water buffalo, horsemen and fire-breathing dragons). It's graceful and quite magical. Back in the OQ - after trawling the many markets, boasting everything from fake Ray-Ban sunglases and Rolex watches to authentic tribal wear and asssorted silver bangles, rings and suchlike - one of the best ways to relax is to pull up a plastic seat at a bia hoi joint where 'fresh beer' (light draught or microbrewed beer) is sold at around 5000 dong a glass (around 17p). The beer is indeed fresh. It's brewed daily and sold from steel kegs at bia hoi street junctions - backpackers and locals mixing aimably to sup copious amounts of the amber nectar. It would be rude not to join in - and so we do, with much relish. Lovely taste and lovely on the wallet too, so bia hois definitely win our vote - and it's been fun spending time sitting alongside the locals in a very convivial atmosphere. Ho Chi Min, water puppets, bia hois and motorbike madness - and lots, lots more - Hanoi is a heady Orient experience - where modern and medieval, not so much collide but fuse into one. It's energetic, frenetic, irritating and charming - one pot-boiler of a place. It's also utterly exhausting and polluted - Chris has donned a face mask in an attempt to combat the choking fumes - and four days here proves enough. Time to move on in search of some solitude then and where better to find it perhaps than on a traditional junk boat among the 3,000 island karsts (towering limestone rock formations) that soar out of the jade-coloured waters of the South China Sea. The islands lie in Halong Bay - a three-hour drive south of Hanoi. We have an early start. But no need to worry about setting any alarm clock. The bells of St. Joseph's will do the job.