Last month we have been to Japan. Leaving from Vietnam, and returning here, was like a time machine trip. Tokyo is futuristic, you feel like you’ve been thrown forward through time as soon as you land and visit the toilet at the airport, and you don’t understand how to flush or get a piece of toilet paper, while you are pleased by the heated seat. Everything is super functional, neat and untainted, I felt almost uncomfortable when I had to throw away a dripping cup of coffee. They have dedicated trash bins also for liquids leftovers. And there are not so many trash bins around, you can carry your garbage for miles while looking for a place to get rid of it, which doesn’t mean you see any possible human sign along the street.
At the airport, they have dedicated officers managing the immigration line: people employed to provide information on which forms to fill out and how, and address visitors to the quickest line politely. In Japan you see commuters waiting in line to board the metro, even rushing is forbidden. They have the most sophisticated railways in the world, trains look literally like bullets, gliding from the space into the platform. When you hail a taxi the door opens by magic, – it is controlled by the driver and it takes time to realize it! – there are crocheted covers over each back seat, and taxi drivers wear white gloves. There are pedestrians crossing guards wearing a uniform and helping people to go from a side of a building to the other. At every intersection, you see thousands people marching all together in a huge organic mass, and there are lanes also for pedestrians walking in opposite directions (not sure there is a universal rule on keeping the right or the left, or maybe I am just not able to follow it, but I found myself walking upstream many times totally lost!). There are convenience stores literally every 30 meters, selling any kind of snacks, bakery products, soft drinks, basic household items, personal care products and underwear.
Everything runs like clockwork, everything is so efficient and alluring. And intimidating somehow.
By contrast, all this discipline and austerity can be outrageously interrupted every now and then by a bizarre owl-themed café, a funky group of cosplay girls, a flashy cartoon-style billboard, or a string of puppets’ vending machines. And every time you get into a convenience shop, you get mesmerized in front of the abundance of all those useless, silly and fanciful gadgets, while a ridiculous jingle plays in the background.
Tokyo seems to be so self-deprecating sometimes, telling you that maybe these Japanese are much more human, off the grid and playful than you could ever imagine.
But to me, still impenetrable. Like all Asians I would say, putting together all my experiences across the continent.
Tokyo is unquestionably amazing, but gave me a sense of imperviousness and “inhumanity” in a way. It’s certainly welcoming, but still emotionally detached. Everything runs through such a sophisticated and sometimes counter-intuitive machine, that you can feel really frustrated and rejected while approaching as a newcomer, despite the proverbial and proven kindness of its people. You can clearly capture a kind of “urban atomisation”, perceiving all the loneliness of its workaholic and well-groomed citizens, and the isolation of young generations, who spend their free time staring at a screen in a video game arcade. While the elders are largely abandoned and neglected. There is a specific Japanese word referring to the phenomenon of people dying alone and remaining undiscovered for a long period of time: “Kodokushi”.
Coming from this land of no rules, we noticed that we are no longer used to any kind of restriction, and we felt quite uncomfortable trying to follow this Japanese rigid etiquette. Here in Vietnam, we don’t recycle anything, I felt so guilty every time I had to throw away a piece of plastic at the beginning, until I got used to the whatever-bin. No matter the traffic light, you just cross the road – together with your fingers – very slowly, trying to be predictable so that traffic flows around you. People are totally missing the concept of a queue together with any idea of civic responsability, you don’t need to book to have dinner or to go to the hairdresser. Whatever museum or touristic site you want to visit, you just get your paper ticket at the cashier and get straight in. No QR codes, no documents for renting a motorbike and driving either, no public transport or traffic signals…yeah, all in all we lead such a wild life here.
So, then, after 10 days of amazement, we got back to Hanoi and we “lined up” for the visa checking, in the usual messy crowd. There are not many tourists in Vietnam this time of the year, so every experience is very “Vietnamese”. We saw again the carton boxes on the luggage belt – yes, most of the people here don’t use proper suitcases, especially the ones that are involved in this crazy and unregulated trade with Russia (many Vietnamese commute weekly to Russia to collect and import to Vietnam any kind of goods like cosmetics, personal care products, food and clothing…). Then we got out of the airport in the drizzle and grabbed a taxi by chance, as usual. No line, no taxi station, we just raised our hand and wait until we were lucky enough that nobody on the sidewalk took the cab that was approaching towards us.
Getting closer to the city center, we went through the banana plantations right outside the airport, we saw again the conical hats, the motorbikes, the narrow gallery houses, the rubbish dumps…we spotted the chickens and we ran into people in their panda-patterns pajamas, we went through that grey shade of Hanoi and all those splashes of colors…we heard again that pesky and constant beeping, we smelled the lake while approaching Tay Ho…
All of a sudden I realized that that feeling of familiarity and reassurance pervading all my senses had a specific emotional connotation: I was just back home.
I figured out how many connections I have with this city after 15 months spent here. And I remember how this felt unlikely to happen when I first arrived. Settling down in Hanoi, rather than Tokyo, maybe is not easier nor less shocking. You are a foreigner in a very foreign land. But that moment, brought up how that painful process is finally completed here.
There are so many sites in this city which remind me of specific and meaningful episodes, as well as places that are just part of my daily routines. Many insignificant but reiterated moments connected to some certain spots, not remarkable to anybody but me. I have so many memories associated with the place where they happened all over this town, that my collection is finally wide enough to call this place “home”.
This is how most of the petrol stations look like in Hanoi, and this is my “petrol guy”, he knows I want a full tank and he always checks carefully on my motorbike and pumps my tires if needed.
This is my office – where I re-invented myself, and against all odds, I became a “travel consultant” and a trusted South East Asia’s expert among my demanding clients.
This is the place where I was googling “pregnancy test in Vietnamese”. I learnt that luckily they use a universal word for that: “Quick test”. It was such a memorable day.
I have a special relationship with this mending place: it was part of my culture shock at the beginning. The lady was always sleeping on a deck chair when I had to drop my stuff, but then she surprised me: she can’t speak any English, but she’s always understood my requests, altering many clothes of ours perfectly, for very little money. I end up paying double price to tip her every time, just because of her smile and kindness.
This is the place where I spotted a rat walking on a wire for the first time. Guess my worst nightmare since then.
This is our balcony, I’ve always dreamt of a terrace with a view. This peaceful view – here at its best, in a rare clear and sunny day – made my stay in Hanoi, being a daily getaway from the hustle of this city.
This lady has probably spent her all life here, selling these Bo Bia Banh snacks. In the last year, she saw me passing by any given day at the same time, but I thought she was not really “seeing” me, even if our eyes met across many times. Until one day, when I was stuck in traffic next to her, and she smiled at me and said “hello”.
After many attempts I found my trusted hair dresser in Hanoi: Mr Quyen calls me “my friend” and is able to treat my frizzy hair, that are pretty uncommon out here. He knows that 2 shampoo is enough for me (a shampoo in Vietnam can take over 45 minutes while you lay down horizontally and you get a head massage and 4 washings…) and he found the perfect copper nuance for my hair. 
As per many people, pizza is much more than food to me, it can really turn a bad day around. I am so grateful to this Belgian guy. I have a direct chat with the waitress, she already knows what and where to deliver. And when we decide to have pizza at the restaurant, we are in good company…
On my way to the office, there is this small and busy market, it soon became my enjoyable slight detour. I used to do the same with the Colosseum in Rome, trying to pass by even when it was not exactly on my way, just to enjoy its majesty for a little while. It is not exactly the same, but a few seconds through the buzz and the colorful groceries it’s a great start of the day.
How long does it take for a (very unfamiliar) new place to feel like “home”? For Vietnam to this lost little girl? I would’ve said “it’s never, ever gonna happen”. But then time just runs its course, you can stand the heat and you can turn off Google maps.
I don’t know how long I will be staying in Hanoi, but I know that having a memory lane to walk down, is a bond forever. And whenever I will come back, no matter how many skyscrapers, highways and metro lines have been built, I’ll feel right back home.
Vietnam overload 