Full disclosure: I have made ten visits to Hanoi since 2017, not one of which has been for pleasure. Frankly, I'm not even sure, had I ever set out to visit for pleasure, that I would have found it - certainly not the appropriate kind. You see, if Hanoi in 2017 was congested, polluted and tired, fast forward to post-pandemic, resurgent Vietnam in 2023 and you will find its capital morbidly obese with rampant middle-class growth, loafing unhealthily, slob-like, in a quagmire of traffic, filth, litter and disorganisation. This is a city with a proud people, a remarkable history, and an incredible story to tell, rapidly losing itself in a tragedy of its own making. In that sense, it is a leader in illustrating a major, global problem: urban decay in emerging economies.
There are few great walking cities: New York; London; Paris; Vienna; Singapore. Debatable, no doubt. What constitutes a great walking city? Is it as simple as being able to stroll, unimpeded, between its main attractions, enabling the discovery along the way of little pockets of intrigue and mystery? Is it the effort put in to signage, exploratory prompts, storyboards, parks, and accessibility (think about bikes or wheelchairs, for those unable to walk)? Is it about the presentation and protection of key locales, such as churches, temples, mosques and museums, and bolstering these with the frills of bars, cafes, shops and restaurants? It is all of these things, and more. As major Southeast Asian cities go, Hanoi should, by all accounts, be a beacon of emerging-economy success and a mecca for tourists. It should be a regional leader in how to reinvent a tiring, ageing city. Yet it appears intent on foregoing meaningful and sustainable development and expansion in favour of individualised wealth and self gain. It's not dissimilar to Phnom Penh, in many ways. That's a story for another day, suffice it to say the sight of many a street-side beggar with an empty bowl poking out opportunistically between the bumpers of Bentleys and Range Rovers parked on the streets of Cambodia's capital is one of startling contradiction.
Back to Hanoi, and let's start with the obvious. The scooters. Or as the locals like to say, motorbikes. Thank God, at least, that's not what they actually are, for the scooters themselves take up the vast majority of space on the roads, as well as the sidewalks. There are an estimated 6.5 million scooters in Hanoi, whilst its population is estimated to be around 5.2 million. I don't know the exact details, but I am guessing that translates to one for every person living in Hanoi, plus one for the other 1.3 million who likely commute into and out of the city daily or weekly for work. And yes, I said sidewalks, which are used with gay abandon for scooter parking, as well as for shortcuts around traffic lights and for frantic forays off busy arterial roads onto well-worn back streets and into alleyways to get hastily from A to B. The unsuspecting pedestrian is expected to get out of the way, without exception. I have frequently caused much consternation by not budging at the sound of a toot behind me when walking down the middle of a sidewalk. The sheer arrogance and expectation that one on foot should yield to a scooter on a sidewalk is mind-boggling. What side of the road do they drive on in Hanoi, I hear you ask? Both sides. Officially the right, but if and when you feel brave enough to step out to cross a road, the simple rule of thumb is to look in every direction, including down, as you will likely step into some sort of filth.
The filth. Hanoi is the capital city of a major Southeast Asian country and an extremely important global economic and political hub. Yet I have seen liberal defecation, urination, spitting, changing (and discarding) of nappies, meat butchery, fish filleting, feather plucking, fruit and vegetable chopping, welding, spray painting, incineration and rubbish dumping, all being carried out streetside (wherever there is space between the scooters), much of which is then hosed away from the shop- or house-front from which it originated, so that it simply becomes someone else's problem, or gathers in piles, which are half-heartedly cleared away by unenthused council workers. At first glance, the manic combination of industry, retail and cuisine can seem like charming, organised chaos, leading to many a tourist exclaiming enthusiastically, "Wow, isn't Hanoi crazy?" Yes, it is. Is that a good thing? The roads and traffic are, at times, unnavigable and intolerable. So you choose to walk, but it's not the walk in the park it should be ... and the parks ... they are few and far between, yet Hanoi is supposedly famous for them. Forget trying to spot a wild bird or breathe in some fresh air. On my last visit, in October this year, I ambitiously went for a jog around hồ Bảy Mẫu (Bảy Mẫu Lake). Rotting fish, discarded at the water's edge by local fishermen, and the ubiquitous Eurasian Tree Sparrow was as close as Hanoi allowed me to get to nature. Although I almost got a little closer when, on an intriguingly empty and spacious stretch of path, I was overtaken by a younger, fitter jogger, who politely gave me a friendly shoulder nudge as he passed, as if to say, "Hello there, visitor. Welcome. Now $%#@ off."
I'm trying to believe that somewhere, behind the curtain of crazy, under the visage of vulgarity, beneath the ponging piles of putrid plastic, there is a new, progressive, quaint, charming Hanoi, just itching to burst out, open its arms, and say, "Hello world, I'm ready for you, are you ready for me?" But, you see, aside from my very pessimistic view of its future, based solely on the state of its present, there is a final, more troubling, tragic and personal issue I have with Vietnam, ergo with its capital, and it comes down to the simple fact that I am from Zimbabwe. Behind China, between 2015 and 2021, Vietnam was the world's second largest importer of pangolin scales by volume, a ranking only measurable by what is found and seized. Over this period, 70,300kg of pangolin scales were seized in Vietnam. Over 50% were from Africa. A pangolin weighs, on average, around three kilograms. Their scales make up 20% of their body weight, or about 600 grams. That means roughly 117,000 pangolins visited Hanoi unwillingly over this period, and it's safe to say they enjoyed it less than I did. Never mind the estimates of what isn't found and seized, thought to be amounting to more than one million individual pangolins to China and Vietnam over the last decade. Don't even get me started on ivory.
Hanoi - and broadly speaking Vietnam in general - has, in my view, the same problems the rest of the world has: over consumption; wanton waste; unfettered population growth; increased disposable income; and an acute case of me-mentality. The trouble in Hanoi is that these problems are on steroids. And as a major global city, it's sadly not alone. You want to address the world's real problems when it comes to climate and environment, cost of living, political turmoil and regional stability? Forget think-tanks and global summits, the solutions start with the individual. The one who rides 500m on a scooter every day, or drives the same distance in a car, to buy some take-away food, half of which will be callously thrown away (possibly to the verge). The one who changes their third child's nappy on the sidewalk and leaves it there. The one who ate pangolin scale soup yesterday, simply because they can.
