Hanoi doesn't make any sense. I don't understand the people, I don't understand what they say to me in Vietnamese and why they don't understand my Vietnamese. I don't understand why my motorbike is always parked in the wrong place, regardless of where I park it. I don't understand why people in shops think it's acceptable to either charge me extortionate prices, or refuse to serve me altogether. I don't understand how men make a living when all they do is lounge on the pavement all day. I don't understand why they hide beef inside tofu. I don't understand why everyone wears pajamas on the street. I don't understand why motorbike exhaust pipes are so hot yet so exposed. I don't understand why it's necessary to be so fucking noisy all the time. I don't understand why I've been robbed twice but my housemates not at all, or why it's taken the police two weeks to conclude that the thief probably came in through the unlocked front door. I don't understand the appeal of eating dog, pig's uterus, horse, or fermented prawns. I don't understand why my Vietnamese friends don't get my jokes, when I am so funny. I don't understand why the music is so, so bad. I don't understand why it smells of raw sewage outside my front door. I don't understand what's so funny about the word 'cool'. I don't understand why living here seems to be getting harder, rather than easier, the longer I stay.
I quite like it here though.
