street wandering

So a new city, Saturday night, few crisp notes in the back burner and a hike into the big bad city. Hanoi has a big lake, I had reckoned that there would be no end of culture teaming down from the shop fronts to the waters edge, and so I set about walking round it to see what craic could be had.

Prudence dictated that neither phone, nor wallet was taken and in the event of robbery, the shoes could probably do with replacing in advance of the Ambassador's reception. The lakeside certainly didn't have Bobby George at the ochy, and apart from the odd schmoozing couple was bereft of life. So forays were taken into the city, sense of direction at the ready and an unvalidated theory that the sky was brighter above the lake than elsewhere. I found myself wandering through back alleys as the streets turned and I needed to return to the landmark lake.

It was rightly different to those late night wanders from the Culturlann to the Ormeau, and the bunch of guys I met hanging around on the street corner thought no more of 'what I was looking at' than I did. They called me over, sat me down, lined up drinks and food and a conversation of smiles, rude gestures and excess ensued. Some craic was had before I picked up the bill, they tipped themselves into a taxi and I carried on my way.

robbery like property is theft