train street | Hand Luggage.

Good morning, and goodbye, Vietnam!

It’s the FINAL post from our epic trip to North Vietnam and I can’t believe it has taken me 16 months to completely document it!!

So enjoy these last few romps around the grimy, colourful and chaotic back streets of Hanoi!

We enjoy a much needed beverage high above the humid, hectic streets.

Then it’s off to check out yet more streets packed full of tourist tat, temple art and traditional water theatre puppets.

Silk dresses and graffiti, no image sums up Hanoi more that this. The dainty and ornate V the gritty, edgy realism.

A mobile seller displays his woven wares on the back of his trusty bicycle.

More floral delights and a seemingly impossible task for these electricians!

A moment of almost calm captured in the midst of the hustle and bustle.

No roaming would be complete without a hopeful wander over to Train Street to see if we can catch sight of the epic train . .

and we are in luck!

We manage to catch it, rumbling along in broad daylight, and you can really get a sense here of just how big, and how close it got!

And that is it folks! The end of another incredible adventure. Vietnam is a country on the up.

I predict it will soon overtake other over travelled places such as Thailand and Bali as the next up and coming ‘exotic’ hot spot.

So catch it while it still retains its natural charm and incredible traditions.

Until next time! Good morning Vietnam – and goodbye!! 😦

Back to train street

Posted on July 9 by collymarples

We keep on gravitating back to this chaotic, crazy little corner of Hanoi.

We are determined to see the flippin train come through if it’s the last thing we do!

So we grab our beverages, plonk ourselves down and wait . . .

While we wait we enjoy some people watching, cafe owners serve customers, families eat on the tracks and life carries on around us.

And then . . . joy of joys, as the dusk closes in, we hear it first . . . an ominous rumble followed by cafe owners hustling us away from the tracks.

And finally!!!! It arrives . . . thundering past at very close quarters! Terrifyingly close!! Apologies for the rather bad language but heck it was a bit hairy!!

Traversing train street

Posted on April 16 by collymarples

We’re heading to one of Hanoi’s most unusual and hair raising tourist spots now – train street!

Trains rumble right through this narrow residential street and you can stand and watch.

Well you used to be able to – it has now been closed for health and safety reasons due to the number of selfie seeking tourists – so once again we managed to tick something off our list before it shut!

The train street is located between Le Duan and Kham Tien street in Hanoi’s Old Quarter.

The exact lane the train passes along is called Ngo 224 Le Duan.

Either side of the tracks are tiny cafes and eateries, as well as little houses.

Located in Hanoi’s Old Quarter the trains pass through just inches away from buildings and people’s homes.

Colourful artwork adorns the crumbling walls and chairs and tables are perched precariously close to the train tracks.

When the trains are due to pass by the cafe owners move their tables and usher people a safe distance away (however you’re still so close that you could reach out and touch the train – if you wanted to lose an arm . .)

Train street was built in 1902 during French colonial rule.

The train usually passes every day at 3.30 pm and 7.30 pm as it makes its way from Hue to Long Bien train station.

The whole neighborhood is only about 500 meters long and there are lots of households that have lived there for many generations.

The trains DO NOT SLOW down and when you actually see one coming, and feel it whipping past your face, it is quite terrifying but also exhilarating!

While waiting for the metal beast to appear you can take your pick from one of the many cafes lining the track.

They serve anything from beer and soft drinks to a peculiar Vietnamese speciality – egg coffee!

We’ll return again later in our trip to actually see a train trundling along the track . . .