After the three days of luxury and fun in Halong Bay, we were thrown back into the whirlwind Hanoi. We'd checked in at the same place as Canada, in the buzzing Hanoi Backpackers Hostel. We showered and ate, and headed out into town, to explore Hanoi's night life further.
Really, this was unnecessary, as we had had our fun in Halong Bay, plus the 'ladies night' before! Yet, Annabel, Brendan and I ventured out to find Temple Bar (a must visit, full of locals and dodgy licensing laws!).
Sure enough we found it, albeit not easily, having to climb under the silver shutters, subtly opened up by a man outside. Once inside, we were 3 out of about 9 Westerners in this narrow, sweaty, crowded club. We embraced it, like with everything else, and danced around like crazy people. Two beefed up American body builders approached us, and fawned over our 'sexy' British accents. Now, I'm not one for judging by stereotype, but these two were EXACTLY the reason why American travellers get bad press out here. Loud, arrogant, and brassy. One was sporting interesting tattoos on each arm, which I overheard him describing:
"This one means TRUTH and this one means JUSTICE...cos that's the only thing that matters buddy!"
Nice. It was about this point when all the music was cut. We started to look around in confusion, as we'd only just got here! I was informed by one of the Vietnamese partiers that the police had turned up wanting to shut the place down. So that was it for us! Or so we thought...
We were recommended to head to Lighthouse Club by the river. It was a bit of mission, so the "best" way to get there was by xe om (motorbike taxis). This didn't sit well with me at all. I'd heard all sorts of warnings about these vigilante motorbikers mugging people in dark streets and taking advantage of tourists. Yet I was egged on by my group. I was assured that I'd be ok with one of the boys, so I went with it.
Big mistake.
All the way, I was freaking out about the driver. He wasn't focusing on the road, and kept looking behind at me. I kept telling him to look forward and actually held his head to face the front! My friend Carlo, found it funny how much I was freaking out, and I suppose I laughed too, trying to get past my gut fear.
Alarm bells started to ring when the bike took a right down the main road: the opposite direction to the club as written on my map. I alerted Carlo, but we were dropped off in a really bad looking area. No lights. No cars. No people. I started to argue with driver, insisting that we had to go up a back a few streets as he was going the wrong way. We moved up a few more, before we stopped again. By this time, I'd had enough. I told Carlo we were getting off here before he did anything bad.
We got off the bike and I checked my bag: it was wide open. I instantly did the spot check: camera, phone, wallet...
"Wallet. Carlo, he's got my wallet!" It was gone. The guy was just starting to turn his bike engine back on, to drive away, when I flipped! I don't know what came over me, but my alarm bells rang, my heart raced, and I ran after him, screaming "GIVE ME MY WALLET BACK!".
I saw him throw the wallet to the ground, with my cards still in it, but all my cash gone. My cards weren't enough. I had my dollars in there too, and by this stage I'd worked out that this guy didn't have the best escape strategy. Carlo and I went running after him. I grabbed onto his bike, which was swaying all over the place, and pulled him to the ground.
The biker didn't know what had hit him! I grabbed at his jacket, even tearing the sleeve, whilst Carlo held him back. I saw my last opportunity, and swooped into his jacket pocket grabbing any cash I could find. Carlo let the guy go, while I looked sadly at my handful of petty cash.
It then came crashing back down on me. I broke down into uncontrollable tears. I was inconsolable. Here we were, lost, alone in some tiny street in the suburb of Hanoi. A small group of local women crowded round me, looking worried, as I looked a state. Carlo was panicking a bit, and urged me to get up and get out!
It was tough, and to cut a long and horrible experience short, we made it back safely. Not at all sound, but safe. Annabel had been fine on her bike, and had made it to the club, but her homing device alerted her to come back to find me! We were all ok, and I was carted off to a bar, over Carlo's shoulder, to buy my a bucket.
I slept safe in my bed that night, and woke up feeling lucky, but these things just remind you, that no matter how great your travels may be, they can still turn ugly. We're safe and still loving life, but we have lessons to learn. I for one, will be steering well clear of motorbike taxis at night, and will never take all my money out in one go.
But the main lesson to be learnt? Always trust your gut.
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