A return to Hanoi

Step out of the metro at the Dubrovoka station on the Moscow light green line and you'll find a world bathed in infinite shades of gray. Slate, steel, steely slate, stalin monolithic, soul deflating soviet. All the numerical representations of the grey scale. Inside the two story market located maybe 250 meters from the metro, you won't find a great deal of color either. Monotone jackets hanging from the seller's stalls, pairs of brown and black leather shoes lined from floor to ceiling, a few jewellery stores scattered about. But what you will find is Hanoi. And for a guy who's been in Moscow just short of three weeks, a trip back to my former temporary home of two years was a much needed excursion. Just as in Hanoi, the vendors sit on wooden stools just outside their stalls, calling out to you as you pass. Just as in Hanoi, the vendors are often young women with flawless skin and radiant faces. And just as in Hanoi, the sellers do their best to rip off the foreigners. While in search of a spring jacket, the first guy (who I even impressed with my pathetic knowledge of Vietnamese) tried to overcharge me about 500 rubles.

But it was the pho that made the journey worthwhile. Tucked away on the side of the market was the Dilmah Cafe. That being a hugely popular brand of tea in Vietnam, and seemingly half of the cafes there having the same name, I already feel a nostalgia creep up on me. But mostly it was just hunger. Three weeks in Moscow, three separate dining experiences, three exceedingly bland meals, and three eyebrow raising checks had left me in despair about the culinary scene. Until I read about the Vietnamese market. Wherever the Viet in the world so goes cheap tasty food. And at the Cafe Dilmah, I was not disappointed. Maybe six or seven tables pushed close together, a massive photo of a young Vietnamese girl in an ao dai, some chili pepper sauce on the tables, and a distinct air of Vietnam. Svetlana and I had a couple of really fucking tasty bowls of pho bo, some green tea, and a pair of cafe sua da. All for about $12. Hands down the best godamn deal in this overpriced culinary wasteland.

We chatted (actually just like in Vietnam, Lana did almost all the talking) with the owner who went by the name Tulia but who's real name is Thanh and is a viet kieu in Mosocw for the last twenty years. And just like in Vietnam, the guy was in awe to be talking with foreigners in his own language, displayed amazement at my ability to cough up a couple of convoluted questions in Vietnamese while being somewhat blase about Sveti's fluency, and in direct contrast to most of the denizens of this city--smiled! So basically to sum up. I was a total fucking idiot for not appreciating what I had going in Hanoi.