Beer in Vietnam

My mate Charles Guerrier told me that Vietnam was the best place for beer in Southeast Asia. And Saigon in particular. So I was very optimistic of the beer I would find there.

Which wasn't something I felt in Bangkok. Admittedly, I wasn't really hanging out in beer places. And the choice was limited to the local Lager or stuff imported from Europe. I went for the former. As what's the point in travelling thousands of miles and drinkinmg beer you can get at home?

As I was stopping slap bang in the centre of Saigon, there were beery options close to my hotel. I wasn't going to miss out on those.

The first place I tried was East West Brewing. A brewpub. Sort of. As, due to council restrictions, it no longer brews on site. Despite the shiny equipment at the back. Which is a shame.

East West's beers, wherever they might be brewed, are still pretty good. All very much in mainstream modern styles: Pale Ale, IPA, Hefeweize, Witbier, Lager, Pilsner, Vanilla Porter, Imperial Stout, Belgian Dark and Belgian Blonde. (At least, that's what they had on draught when I was there. I'm sure that it varies somewhat.) A good spread of styles, strengths and colours. Not just twenty types of fucking IPA.

Any guesses what I went for? Imperial Stout, obviously.

I met with Nhi Mai, brewer at East West. A smart young woman, who explained some of the vagaries of brewing Saigon. Such as the council forbidding brewing in the city centre on account of the waste water.

We shared a few beers in both East West and another nearby former brewpub, Pasteur Street, conveniently just 150 metres further along the same street. They also brew quite a few typical styles: Lager, Blonde Ale, Irish Stout, Pale Ale, Jasmine Amber, Session IPA, Pomelo IPA, Jasmine IPA, Double Jasmine IPA, and Imperial Chocolate Stout. Rather more IPA-heavy than East West.

What did I choose? No, it wasn't the Imperial Stout. I was being sensible and just had a Double Jasmine IPA, at a mere 8.5%. (I did, however, try the Imperial Stout when I returned the next day.)

The beers from both breweries were all technically good and pretty decent examples of the styles. Better than some of the beers I've had in Holland or the USA, for example. 

I was pretty impressed. And I only scratched the surface. Ho Chi Minh has many more breweries and beer bars. I can heartily recommend it.


East West Brewing
181 Lý Tự Trọng, 
Bến Thành, 
Hồ Chí Minh.
https://eastwestbrewing.vn/taproom/ho-chi-minh


Pasteur Street Craft Beer
112 Lý Tự Trọng, 
Hồ Chí Minh.
https://pasteurstreet.com/
 

A companion video:

 

 

Bangkok and Saigon food

Someone suggested that I post about the food that I ate in Thailand and Vietnam. Being a lazy git, I've done it in the form of a short video.

I had lots of excellent food in both countries. Mostly local stuff. But who can resist a bacon baguette for breakfast? Or to top up when the meal wasn't quite filling enough.

What I forgot, was to video the banh mi that I had in Vietnam.Excellent stuff. If slightly weird, as they all contained pate. Making it a true fusion dish of French and Vietnamese cuisine. 

In Bangkok, once I realised I had to ask for the food "just a little spicy" if I wanted to get it spiced, but not crazily spiced. Every meal I had came with a fried egg. You can never go wrong with a fried egg on top of stuff.

  

Leaving Vietnam

I'm awake before my alarm goes. Quickly rising, brushing my teeth and packing away my laptop, I’m ready in a jiffy. Too early for breakfast. I'm in my taxi by 6:02.

It takes a different route to the airport. Along a street of French colonial villas. Very nice. Colonial days must have been so much fun. If you were one of the colonisers. It’s very easy, as a white European, to assume that’s what I would have been.

We pull up outside the airport two hours before my flight departs. With me pushy-inning all the way to airside, I'm left with a good hour in the lounge. Happy days.

There's free-pour booze. Evan Williams bourbon and a couple of other spirits. The former will do for me. I get well stuck in. And, as I missed brekkie, a pork and egg stew thing. Along with some fruit. I have to look after my health, after all.

It's a pretty good lounge. Though one black mark. The cheese offering is way inferior to Air France’s. But so is every other lounge.

The whiskey bottle is looking quite sad by the time I'm done. It's about half empty. Was anyone else drinking it? Probably not at 7 AM. Though airport rules do apply.  It's got me right in the mood for a long flight. Half-pissed and half-awake.

I tip on the plane with my pushy-in boarding. As I've booked a better seat, I've more legroom than on the way up from Danang.

I had worried a bit about changing in Bangkok. Just 75 minutes. But we're on time and there's not too much faffing or walking. I'm at the gate before boarding starts.

Not much drama on the flight. Other than, about two-thirds of the way in, an announcement asking for a medical doctor to go to seat 31A. I worry that it might be like the return flight from Santiago. When a medical emergency over the Atlantic had us divert to the Azores, delaying our arrival in Paris by hours. Thankfully, we continue on our way.

Oh, and the bloke in the window seat by me has a massive argument with the woman in front of him about her reclining her seat onto his knees.

As I’ve seen all the films I’d like to. And several others I didn’t really. I go for the TV series entertainment. Sharp Objects fills in the time pretty much exactly. It ends a bit weird. Not sure why they had that long bit after the loony mum got banged up. I don’t bother watching the credits. I can’t be doing with just boring lists of names.

We’re given a last meal an hour or so before landing. It’s not too awful. But what is really surprising is the drink I order. I eschew the wine and have an orange juice. That’s a first for me. Turning down the offer of a free alcoholic drink.

We land two minutes early. Soon I'm at home clutching a mug of hot tea. Is there a better partner than Dolores?

Train street

Brekkie just before nine again. Two fried eggs again. This time over easy. And more fruit for afters. Mikey has a tea bag for me again so I can have proper tea.

It’s amazing what a difference a proper cup of tea makes to the start of the day. Well, two cups. The bag is strong and the cups are small. Two cups from one bag is no stretch.

Mikey has an English breakfast again. Without bacon and with an extra egg. Not impressed with the bacon here, either of us.

When we’ve polished off the eggs and shit, the waiter asks if we want anything more. It seems we can order as many items off the menu as we want. Which is pretty cool.

I’ve eaten two breakfasts in the past. When I lived in Leeds. We went to café where the breakfast was a bit too small for me. I often ordered a second. Unbelievable that I was a skinny bastard back then. How long ago was that? The café had a Space Invaders machine. Which was all the rage at the time.

We head off on a wander. First task is to change a little dosh as I don’t have quite enough dongs. Or knobs as Alexei would call them.

Spotting a T-shirt shop, I remember that I haven’t got both the kids something. And I remember how much they liked the Pablo Escobar shirts I got them in Columbia. I buy one that’s basically the Vietnamese flag and another that’s a map of the country. Hopefully they like them. The ungrateful little gits.

After a while we stumble across the lake again. We start walking up it and spot a pub. But it's far too pricey. Eventually, we hit the same lakeside terrace as yesterday. I go for mojitos this time. I can do with a long, cold drink. It's effing hot again. But bearable in the shade with an icy cocktail.

I notice someone fishing in the lake. Just throwing out a line by hand.

"It must be reasonably clean, if there are fish in it." Mikey says.

"I suppose so. Or they all have three eyes or two heads."

On the way back to the hotel, I drop by a supermarket. For vodka and fruit. Just the essentials.

“Are you getting more of that fake vodka?”

Mikey wasn’t impressed yesterday when he saw it was only 29.9% ABV.

“I’m getting a different brand today.”

“Is it any stronger?”

“Er, no.”

“Why are you bothering? Don’t they have anything stronger?”

“Yes, they do. But the vodka is dirt cheap.”

“You’re such a cheapskate, Ronald.”

After a while chilling, it's time for lunch. There's a place, Bách Phương, just at the other end of the alley. Which is lined by little hole in the wall shops. Literally holes in the wall. Most are food shops whose owners seem to be having a siesta, blankets covering their wares. While they slumber behind them.

I thought there was just an extract of their menu on the web. But they really do only have two dishes: beef noodle salad and chicken stew. I opt for the former, Mikey the latter. A good choice on my part as it's really nice. While Mikey's is a lump of boiled chicken in a weedy-looking broth. With just chopsticks and a spoon to eat it with. He doesn't really manage any.

We head back to the hotel to chill. Literally. It's still effing hot. I couldn't survive without the odd nip back into air-conditioned bearability.

This evening's plan is train street. Mikey walks off there alone after getting fed up waiting for me downstairs at the bánh mi place. So I get a taxi. He's a bit of a way down the street. But I soon spot him. It\s impressively narrow to have a train run down it.

I'm on mojitos again. After a while, there's a bit of a commotion. Something is coming. Though no trains are scheduled for hours. Turns out it's a locomotive being moved. It passes impressively close by our seats.

Mikey is getting hungry. We head back to the area around the hotel. Where we settle on a fairly random restaurant, Thủy - Ngan cháy tỏi.

"Look, Mikey, they've got fried swan."

“Great. But I want noodle soup.”

I order the swan. A small one. Mikey goes for a chicken noodle soup. Of course. I choose the smallest swan option. No way I could eat a whole swan. Surprisingly, there's still a pile of food. Noodles, soup, pickled ginger, green stuff. More than I can eat. Not sure about it being swan. There's a wing which is about 30 times too small for a swan. And just right for a chicken.

After eating, we go to New Gentry. Mikey for cheap beer. Me for a Thon Dantes Inferno, the Belgian Quadrupel again. Full of alcoholy goodness.

I only stay for the one. I have to be up at 5:30 tomorrow. Wish me luck.

A watery vodka nightcap again. Oh, the horror. Maybe as well, given the earliness of my start tomorrow.


Bách Phương - Bún Bò Nam Bộ
73-75 Hàng Điếu,
Cửa Đông,
Hoàn Kiếm,
Hà Nội.


Thủy - Ngan cháy tỏi
76 P. Bát Sứ,
Hàng Bồ,
Hoàn Kiếm,
Hà Nội.

Beer street

I meet Mikey a bit before nine for brekkie. Two fired eggs for me, English breakfast for him. He's kindly brought a Yorkshire tea bag for me. Mmmm proper tea. Enough for two cups.

I have various bits of fruit for pudding. Have to keep healthy. There's a long, sweaty day ahead of me.

After a bit of a rest, we make our way to the lake. It's not that far. But, in 36º C heat, any walk is tiring. 

The lake is rather pleasant, with well-tended gardens and shady trees lining its bank. And a couple of islands with temples on them. A surprisingly peaceful spot in such a busy city.

Luckily, there's a pub. The perfect place to cool down after our strenuous ten-minute walk. Did I mention that it’s effing hot? You know what would hit the spot? A cocktail. I get myself a margarita. Mikey has a beer. The wimp.

This is nice. Watching the world go by and sipping cocktails. How did my life go so wrong? To think I could still be working. Thank you, boss, for sacking me a couple of years ago. I've never looked back.

It’s all very relaxing. So we stay for a few. Cocktails for me, beer for Mikey. They aren’t expensive. That’s my excuse. And I’m on holiday. It’s not that far away from midday. Everyone knows that airport rules apply when you’re on holiday. It’s acceptable to drink at any time of day. Even 6 AM.

This is nice. Watching the world go by and sipping cocktails. How did my life go so wrong? To think I could still be working. Thank you, boss, for sacking me a couple of years ago. I've never looked back.

After few cocktails, we have another sweaty walk back to the hotel. Pausing only to buy fruit and vodka in a supermarket.

“How strong is that vodka?”

“Not sure. It’s quite hard to read on the bottle.”

“Let’s take a look. 29.9%? They’re taking the piss.”

“I’ll just water it down less.” Or not at all.

“You dilute vodka, Ronald?” I feel so ashamed.

On the way back to the hotel, we spot a rather flash car.

“Look at that, Mikey. A new Rolls Royce.”

“You can definitely feel the communism here.”

A rest and a shower later, we're ready for some food. Noodles, green stuff, spring rolls and meat balls in a broth. It's OK, but the broth is a bit sweet for Mikey's taste. At least it's cheap. We don’t manage to polish off the spring rolls and get a doggy bag.

They’re unlike any spring rolls I’ve had before. Thicker, meatier, more pastry. Pretty much totally unlike the ones I’ve had in Europe. Better? Worse? Different.

After literally chilling at the hotel, we then return to New Gentry. Where Mikey finds an expensive beer he likes: 1817 Porter. I have some IPA and DIPA. Being a pisshead. But, also, another Porter. I’m surprised they have so many of them here.

Thom Fade to Black English Porter, 6.7% ABV, 99K for 33 cl
A bit sourish. Not as good as the crazy Kurtz beer.

Labtory Factory Pale Ale, 6.3% ABV, 89K for 33 cl
Mikey orders this by mistake. He meant to get the 1817 Porter. I’m happy to drink it for him. It’s fine, in an American hoppy sort of way. At least it’s clear.

We don’t linger long. Mikey wants to go to Beer Street. Pretty sure that’s not its real name. It’s a place where lots of the bars are. So over we walk. It’s not far. Thankfully, as it’s fucking hot. Did I mention the heat here?

On the way we walk along a street that seems to be all toy shops.

“This must be toy shop street.” I remark.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you notice all the toy shops?”

“No.” Mikey must have his eyes on something else.

“Somewhere to avoid if you have small, demanding kids.”

“Or large demanding ones, like you.”

Beer Street turns out not to be the place for a quiet drink. More like total chaos. Tables and chairs spread onto the narrow street. Through which cars, mopeds and scooters squeeze. It's loud. Very loud. Why the hell are people here with their small kids?

I get a mojito, Mikey a beer. A woman comes up selling hats. Pretty cool ones. Mikey gets a green one. I get a black one with a red star. For Andrew. Mikey haggles to woman down from 100 K to 80 K each. A bargain.

We walk through a little of the chaos and settle on another random bar.

"Do you have cocktails?"

"No. Only mojito." Mojito it is, then.

We sit and watch the crowds stream by. Not sure I’d want to come and drink here every night. Not exactly relaxing. OK once for the experience.

“It must be great living in one of those flats opposite.” I remark.

“I suppose you get used to it. Or move.”

Just before leaving, I venture to the bog. Which is right next to the kitchen Neither looks very hygienic. What is that layer of liquid on the floor of the toilet? Best not to think too much about it. Just concentrate on not getting any on my clothes.

"I'm glad we didn't eat here."

"Why?"

"I've seen what the kitchen looks like."

Around 11, we wend our way back through the darkened streets. It's still 31 C. So pretty sweaty. Plenty of locals are sitting out on the street. How hot must it be in their homes?

After a bit of Standy-Uppy blokes I go to bed. And sleep like a baby. With only that fake vodka to nudge me sleepwards.

Hanoi again

I rise at 7:30. And head almost immediately downstairs for breakfast. What a diligent boy I am. That’s what I hope. I’m still, subconsciously, trying to be the perfect grammar school boy. Just failing very badly. Like at everything else.

“You are a perfect twat, Dad.” I hear in my head. Can’t escape the kids

A Vietnamese breakfast today. An omelette with bacon, sausage and toast. Not sure what’s Vietnamese about it. But they call it that and I’m not up for arguing this early in the day.

"There's nothing very Asian about that." Mikey remarks. He's not wrong.

It doesn't take long for a taxi to whisk us to the airport. With my pushy-in boarding, we're airside in a jiffy. I hope Mikey appreciates the world of privilege I’m exposing him to.

“Do you appreciate the world of privilege I’m exposing you to?”

“Yes. Any other questions?”

Why are you such a snarky bastard? I say that really loudly. In my head. Wouldn’t want to spoil the mood.

Our flight is delayed 15 minutes. We get ourselves a beer. Each, obviously. Just a tin of Bia Saigon. We manage to resist the lure of the Heineken bar.

The flight is full but short. Our bags come straight off and before you know it, we're in our next cab. Cruising along towards the Old Quarter.

Once checked in, with Mikey feeling peckish – now there’s a surprise – and we go in search of food. Which he finds at a bánh mi place on the corner. Along with a beer. I only opt for the latter.

A Korean pair and a couple of Kiwis are sitting next to us and we chat a little.

We ask the barmaid for directions to a supermarket. Which is where we head. It's not that far, but I'm pretty sweaty by the time we get there. I load up with the essentials: vodka, soju and fruit. Have to keep healthy. The array of soju is very impressive.

I'm even sweatier when I get to my room. It takes a while for the aircon to get the temperature down a bearable level. Just after which, the power goes off. Fucking magic.

As I'm on the 7th floor, I'm sort of stuck. No way I'm walking up that many stairs. Mikey is younger and fitter than me. So it's no problem for him, despite being a floor higher.

What can I do? I know: fiddle with my phone.

       The power is off in the hotel. And my room is on the 7th floor. Great.
Alexei: Hopefully, the power comes on soon again. Don't they have a generator?
       Obviously not.
       Power is back. I'm off to the pub.
Alexei: Why was the power off?
Did the hotel not have enough willies for the bills?
       Very funny.
       I just hope the power doesn't go off again when I'm in the lift.
Alexei: Yeah. Maybe tip the hotel some cocks so they can pay for the electric bill
Alexei: Did you mention to Mikey yet that the currency means knob?
       No. I think he's well aware.
Alexei: Mention it to him. Does dong also mean knob in Vietnamese?
       No. Obviously not.
Alexei: Are they aware of what it means in English?
       Probably. Some smartarses will have brought it up

I watch some Phoenix Nights on my laptop to pass the time until the power comes back on. Which it does. Then after 20 minutes cuts out again.

After an hour or two the power returns. I'm quite wary of getting in the lift, in case it cuts out while I'm in there. I head over to New Gentry, where I have a few beers.

Starting with:

Da Kao Double IPA, 7.7% ABV, 119K for 33cl
Not too sludgy. Quite pleasant hop flavour. And full of alcoholy goodness. It does the job. Though, at 7.7%, it is a bit light for a DIPA.

That doesn’t last too long. Think I’ll try another DIPA.

Mekong Brewing Albin Rhino Double IPA, 9% ABV, 129K for 33cl
Happily, sludge free. Quite a lot of American hops. Now there’s a surprise. More oomph to this one, at 9% ABV.

Mikey turns up later and has one of the cheap "commercial" beers. I have a Heart of Darkness beer just so I can send a photo to Lexxie.

Heart of Darkness Kurtz’s Insane IPA, 7.1%, 129K for 33cl
Another stack of citrusy US hops.

I send a photo of it to Alexei.

I ordered this especially for you, Lexxie.
       Alexei: Oh that's cool
       Is it good? Or insane like Kurtz?
It's OK in an American IPA sort of way.
       Alexei: Ah I see
       How many willies was it?
129k.
       Alexei: So 5 euros
Yes.
       Alexei: Isn't that a little pricey for Vietnam?
Yes. It is craft beer.
       Alexei: Still though, a lot of knobs

We don’t stay out too late. I learnt my lesson from that first night in Danang. It’s not long after ten when we make the long walk over the road to our hotel.

Though I don’t stay in my room. Feeling peckish, I nip out just before midnight, aiming to get a bánh mi. That's all finished, but I can get some spring rolls and other bits and bobs. 80 K and pretty good. Never had spring rolls like those before. I'm so proud of myself for making the effort.

No more whisky. Only watery vodka to edge me down that slippery slope to sleep.
 

Hoy, Anne

I’ve left on the 8 AM alarm. To avoid breakfast horror. (Being too late). No, I do know how to turn it off.  Just handy to have it set. Honestly. No, really honestly. I’m sure I could switch it off. If I needed to. All by myself, too. You’re doubting me? Come over here and say that.

Sausage and onion baguette for brekkie. I order the same as Mikey. But only because I misheard. I thought that he had asked for egg and onions. What the hell. I still eat it. Basically, it’s a hotdog. But nicer. Much nicer. Not what I wanted, though.

Mikey also has a tea bag for me. A Yorkshire tea bag. That lovely, strong Yorkshire tea. Coffee is OK, but there’s nothing like a proper strong tea to start the day. Better even than a big, fat line of industrial-strength speed.

The plan for today is to visit Hoi An, an old city about 30 km from Danang. It's 24 euros for a car to take us there and then come and pick us up again later. Bargain.

I expected there to be countryside inbetween. There's bugger all of it. The coast is being developed a pronto, with loads of new buildings and others under construction. It's getting like Spain, where long stretches of the coast are built solid.

The last few kilometres are paddy fields. But really only the last little bit.

After being dropped off, we walk a full 50 metres before spotting the first pub, PEN Hội An. Where we stop for a beer to cool down. A Saigon green. It’s cold and wet. And not much over 4% ABV. It does its cooling job.

Outside, young tourists are photographed wearing conical hats and carrying those scale-like things over their shoulders. And photograph the temple next to the pub. None of that crap for me and Mikey. We're just sticking to drinking.

We only stay for the one. As Mikey is getting peckish.  Chicken rice is the local speciality. We spot a place selling it close to the river, Mận - Cơm gà Cao lầu.

It seems fairly local. All the other customers look Vietnamese. Other than the couple in a matching shirt and dress sitting next to us. Is that a thing? Matching clothes.

“I’m sure Dolores would go for that. Us wearing matching clothes.”

“You’re taking the wee, aren’t you Ronald?”

“No. Well, not totally.”

“Don’t tell porkies. You know she’d hate it.”

Yes, of course. I would, too. But I’m not going to admit that. I have the perfect riposte.

“Fuck off.”

They have the funny low tables and chairs. I love having my arse this close to the floor on a flimsy plastic seat. Which I fear may collapse under the weight of my mighty arse at any moment. I feel so empowered. In a negative way. Which is the best way, isn’t it?

The chicken rice is an extortionate 40K. 1.60 euros. Pretty good. Especially with the chili sauce mixed in. Mikey asks for an extra dollop of the chili. The extravagant bastard. One is enough for me.

I’m being annoying with my phone again. Ah, the power of mobile data.

Alexei: Is the money really called Dong over there?
      Yes.
Alexei: Do they call their cents "cock"?
      No. They don't have cents.
Alexei: Too bad. Do they have pictures of knobs on the bank notes?
      No. Ho ho ho chi min.
Alexei: Ah I see, on all of the notes?
      Yes.

Such deep, deep, intellectual conversations we have. So glad I’m able to indulge in such philosophical debates from the pub now.

We head over the river. But it's pretty hot. We stop for another beer at Tiger Tiger Bar. At least Mikey does. I'm on cocktails: a mojito. Well, two, as it's happy hour.

You’ll never guess which beer they sell. Go on. Have a try. That’s right: Larue. No, it’s Tiger. The pub has a rather unacceptable slogan “Be a Tiger, get a pussy.” Classy.

Four is the cut-off for picking us up at the same spot we were dropped off. We head towards there in plenty of time. No point making life harder than it needs to be. As it's still fucking hot. We need to stop in another pub. When did I need an excuse for that? It's also happy hour: buy two get one free. Mojitos for me. Watery beer for Mikey.

I'm grateful of the car's aircon as we rumble and roll back towards Danang. Did I mention that it's fucking hot?

We - quite literally - chill in our rooms until around 7 PM. When we head off in search of food. I fancy Pho – who doesn’t? – it’s the sexiest food in the world. But we can't spot a place doing that and settle for another noodley soup sort of place.

It’s called Mì Quảng Ếch Bếp Trang which translates to “Kitchen Frog Noodles”. No surprise then that it seems to specialise in frogs. A legacy of the French, I guess. I go for prawn and pork instead. Dead good, especially with loads of added chili.

Then I’s off to a few pubs. Simple Man first. It’s very quiet again. Just us and a couple chasing pool balls around the table without ever seeming to pot any.

“They’re the worst pool players I’ve ever seen.”

“Even worse than you, Ronald?”

“Even worse than you. That bad.”

I'm sticking to cocktails. Mojito to start. Mikey is still wimping out with beer. Bia Saigon, to be precise. It is, at least, the stronger red label one.

We continue on to Bamboo 2 Bar. Where Mikey swaps over to cocktails. Perhaps because time is passing. It’s already ten.

We finish a few doors down in The Dude. We’ve visited all the classic places tonight.

We don't make it too late. As I'm knacked and we have a 10:45 flight tomorrow. It's about 11:30 when we say "It's a day."

Back in my room I say an enthusiastic good evening to Mr. Ardmore. So enthusiastically, that he’s left completely drained.


PEN Hội An
730Đ Đ. Hai Bà Trưng,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam 560000.


Mận - Cơm gà Cao lầu
Đường Công Nữ Ngọc Hoa,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam.


Tiger Tiger Bar
V8GG+8MC,
Phường Minh An,
Hội An,
Quảng Nam.


Mì Quảng Ếch Bếp Trang
177 Hồ Nghinh,
Phước Mỹ,
Sơn Trà,
Đà Nẵng 550000.

On the beach

My alarm goes off at eight. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday, when I missed out on breakfast by a few minutes.

I’m getting so good with my phone. I set the alarm myself. With almost no help from Mikey. That’s two or three things I can do on it unaided. I’m so proud of myself.

I'm downstairs breakfasting by 8:30. A bacon and egg baguette. Plus watermelon, orange juice and coffee. It's pretty good. I know you always appreciate pictures of my breakfasts. Only too happy to oblige.

Mikey has a curry. With bread. It’s a pretty small portion.

“I wish there was more.” He says, mournfully. Looking at his empty bowl, after quickly polishing off his food.

We head off to change money at the place I bought my sim yesterday. It's hot. Very hot. I'm sweating cobs by the time we get there. The walk back isn’t any less sweaty. But at least there’s aircon at the end of it.

I'm glad to get back to the cool of my room. Where I doze off watching some telly. Mikey is at the beach. Will I go and join him? Maybe.

Weirdly, there’s a block of allotments opposite the hotel. With developments sprouting all around it, like monstrous versions of the allotment vegetables. I can’t imagine it will remain gardens for long.

I lie around vaguely pointing my eyes at Ziggo TV on my flap flop. Until early afternoon, when I decide to join Mikey on the beach. 2 PM is the coolest part of the day, isn’t it?

The walk is a bit sweaty. Mikey is easy to spot. Especially as there are only about five people on the beach. And two of those are bar staff.

Once sat down, in the shade, it isn't too bad. There’s a bit of a breeze off the sea and I have a can of beer in my hand. Why? Because they don’t serve cocktails. Otherwise, it would be a mojito. Or, even better, a caipirinha.

The beach is wide and long. And full of lovely white sand.

“It’s almost as nice as Ipanema beach.” I remark.

“Almost?”

“No caipirinhas here. I do appreciate the shade from those high rises, though.”

“How the fuck did they get permission to build 50-storey blocks so close to the beach?”

“Backhanders would be my guess.”

We're sitting next to two young English lasses who are on a 60-day trip The jammy gits. How can they afford to swan off for so long at their age? I was labouring down the pit sixteen hours a day when I was that old. At least I think that’s what I remember. It might have been a documentary I watched once.

Mikey creates a hotspot on his phone so they can piggyback on his internet. Or something. I don’t really understand it. Just that, somehow, he lets them share his data connection.

I have a couple of beers while Mikey roasts himself and occasionally dips in the sea. I’m not leaving the safety of the shade, me.

I manage to hold out for a full 90 minutes. I’m so proud of myself. Until Mikey gets hungry, when we head back to the hotel. Pausing only for a bánh mi on the way. 

Mine has some sort of pork in it. Along with cucumber and lettuce. Mikey skips the green element, going for 100% meat. It costs 30K (1.20 euros). The robbing bastards.

It’s not enough for Mikey. He stops at the next bánh mi stand. Where he gets a monster one. I haven’t even finished my first. Half way through, he seems to have regrets.

“I feel stuffed.” He says. “It was only 30K, though.”

I’m not surprised. Still considering the value, no matter how overfed he is. That’s Mikey for you. The normal-sized one was plenty for me.

Back in my room, I lie in the full blast of the aircon for a few hours. Finally, cooling off the sweat. Did I mention that it’s effing hot here? No? It’s really fucking hot here.

We don't venture out until around well after eight. To the Bamboo 2 Bar. Where I get stuck into mojitos. And Mikey that watery Bia Saigon green. 

"You're never going to get pissed on that stuff, Mikey." 

"That sounds like a challenge."

 There's Aussie rugby league on the TV. Paramatta vs North Queensland. And the Aussie bloke from the other night is there and we have a brief chat.

People come around trying to sell various crap. But they aren’t too pestery.

“It’s much worse in Bali.” Mikey says.

“Yes, I remember. Really annoying.”

After a few drinks, we continue on a few doors down to The Dude Bar. Where we sit outside. Because it's dark and loud inside.

Mikey is quite pissed. How does he manage that on just beer? I’m still on the cocktails. We chat with some Aussie women for a while. But it’s nearing the end for both of us. I'm knacked and Mikey is pissed. Did I mention already that Mikey is pissed?

“I’m pished.” Mikey says.

“I’d noticed. Well done. I never thought you'd manage on that piss water you were drinking."”

“Thank you. I try my best.”

We get a taxi back after just the one. It's not that late, around 11:30. I wouldn't want to go missing my breakfast through another late night, would I?

I buy some soju in the combini. But don't drink any, just go to bed. I’m so knacked I don’t even have a chat with Mr. Ardmore.


The Dude Bar
210 Bạch Đằng,
Phước Ninh,
Hải Châu,
Đà Nẵng 550000.

Sim city

I awake at 9:32. Just too late for brekkie. Damn that late night. Instead of eating, I do my tippy-tappy thing.

Without notes, I have nothing but whatever photos I can be arsed to take to prompt my memory. Which, on its own, is little better than a goldfish’s.

Mikey messages me. The bastard got up at 9:15 and just dodged the 9:30 breakfast deadline. Typical. The jammy git.

When I’ve got my arse in gear, we have lunch downstairs. Fried dim sum for me. Very nice, they are. And you get five.

“Did you notice that you get more fried dim sum than boiled for your money?”

“I pointed that out to you yesterday, Ronald.”

“Did you? I don’t recall that.”

I wash the food down with a Huda beer. It’s another fairly watery one, not much over 4% ABV. Like a soft drink, really.

We have an important mission today. Getting me a Vietnamese sim card. Mikey knows where we need to go. So off we head. Into the effing heat. It’s amazing how it’s hot every day here in the tropics.

It’s not very far. But I’m pretty sweaty by the time we get there. Very sweaty. Just as well the man in the shop does the sim insertion. My hands are so sweaty my phone would probably slip through them.

30 days, 4 gig of data per day, 10 euros. That’s what I’ve got. I’ve no idea how much data that is. How much will I use? I’m totally clueless. Mikey says it’s plenty. He understands this stuff, so I believe him. I don’t really have any option.

On the way back, we have a quick beer. Larue. Cheap, but only 4.2% ABV. The place is deserted, other than us and half a dozen staff.

“How do all these restaurants survive? They don’t seem to have many customers.”

“Or any, Mikey.”

I decide to impress the kids with my mobile data by messaging them from the pub.

I’m using 4g.
Alexei: 4g?
Like mobile data.
Alexei: But why is using 4g then so special? We have it back at home
I don't.
Dolores: Try not to waste money on 4G, don't they have wifi?
Not everywhere. And it only cost 10 euros.
Alexei: For a sim card?
Yes. 30 days, 4 gig a day.
Alexei: Ah I see that is quite cheap. Did Mikey help you setting it up?
Why do you ask?
Alexei: Because you barely know how your phone works...
That's not true. Cheeky git.

That clearly impressed Alexei. I feel so modern. Now I can annoy all my friends, well, Mikey, by fiddling with my phone while we’re out drinking.

“I’ll never have to talk to you again, Mikey.”

“I’ve created a monster.”

We drop by the combini on the way back. The one closest to the hotel, amusingly called Hee!. Which has a selection of soju and a small terrace. Where we sit and have a drink. Beer for Mikey, soju for me, obviously.

I dive into my room for a chill. A literal chill. I really need to cool down. It’s currently 36º C outside. With the humidity, it feels like well over 40º C. Andrew would love it here. Except he’d be dead within ten minutes. Fifteen tops. I need to look into getting life assurance for him.

After a couple of hours of heavenly cool, I descend to the restaurant. Where Mikey awaits.

We go out onto the terrace to eat. I splurge: steamed and fried dim sum. What an extravagant bastard I am.

“You know, the fried dim . . .”

“I’ll stop you there, Ronald. I know it’s better value. I mentioned it first.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, you senile twat.”

“You’re sounding like the kids.”

Fed, we head to the pub at 20:30. Mikey suggests we start at Simple Man, a sort of rock pub.

“They have cheap local shots.” Says the man who’s already been here a few days.

“Funny you should have noticed that. I’m sold.”

“That’s because you’re a pishhead.”

I’m not going to argue with someone who has such a deep insight into my soul.

I have a mojito. It's full of alcoholy goodness. It's pretty quiet, as it's still early. I say quiet. Empty would be a better description. The barmaid is tiny and looks about twelve. Though the way she gets stuck into the fags when not serving betrays a greater age.

“They really like AC/DC here, don’t they?” I comment about the music. Heavy rock in general. Or maybe that’s just the bars we’ve visited.

Next is Bamboo 2 Bar. Which is pretty full. We’re lucky to find seats. I have a mojito again. There are some interesting fellow customers again. And what Mikey assures me is a lady boy. We only have a couple. Drinks, I mean. Not lady boys.

On the way back, we drop by the local combni. Which now has a massive terrace, filled with the local youth having cheap drinks. Soju for me again. 76K for 360 ml. A bargain.

Showing off, I’m on WhatsApp with Alexei again. Out in the wild. It’s so thrilling.

Alexei: Did you try any of the motorcycle taxis yet?
No. Mikey keeps trying to get me to take one. No funking way.
Alexei: Isn't it extremely safe though? Usually they stack like 4 small children on a single bike
Yeah, right. Probably safer than the freeway in LA. The most I saw on a moped in Thailand was 7 people.
Alexei: You should try the motorcycle taxi or riding one yourself. Do a couple of wheelies, donuts and such.
No way you're getting me on anything with just 2 wheels. Just saw a kid who looked about 11 riding a moped.
Alexei: Did Mikey use the motorbike cab yet?
Yes.
Alexei: So why didn't you too? Isn't it cheaper than a car cab? And faster?
I want to live. But both are dirt cheap.

It's around midnight when I get to bed. I don't want to miss tomorrow’s breakfast.

Ardmore is my sleepytime companion again. Rocking me gently to sleep.


Hee Mart 2
91 D. Đình Nghệ,
An Hải,
Sơn Trà,
Đà Nẵng 550000.


Simple Man Pub
267 Đ. Trần Hưng Đạo,
An Hải Bắc,
Sơn Trà,
Đà Nẵng 550000.

Arriving in Danang

I rise a little after seven. And head on down for brekkie. A bacon omelette and fruit. No pic, sorry. It is very nice, mind. Though the bacon is rather chewy.

Not too much of a rush. My flight to Danang is at noon. A taxi has me there a couple of hours before. And my pushy-in status has my bag checked and my fat arse airside in under 15 minutes.

No lounge, sadly. Instead, I get myself a beer in a small restaurant right next to my gate. It's 40K (1.60 euros) for a 33 cl can. Which isn't too bad for airside.

I’m still trying to catch up with Private Eye. In the new issue, Liz Truss is still PM. I reckon she’s there for the long term. How could an intellect as great as hers fail?

The flight isn't much over an hour. All we get is a bottle of water. It’s up, down and off. I’m fine with that.

Another taxi soon has me at the hotel. Once checked in, I send Mikey a message. He comes over to my room. With a bottle of cheap local rum.

“Fancy a shot?” he asks, waggling the bottle temptingly in front of my nose.

Who am I to turn down booze? After I’ve had a couple of shots, Mikey tells me:

“It’s three years out of date. Should be OK, though.”

Now I know why he’s being so generous with it. And not drinking any himself. Rum can’t go off, can it? What’s the worst that could happen?

Warmed by the hopefully safe rum, it’s time for some scran. I’ve only had breakfast and need my belly filling. I order steamed dim sum. Which are rather nice. Four for 40K.

“You get one more fried dim sum for the same price.” Mikey remarks. “It makes no sense.” He has a point.

We go to the beach for an hour. Lots of locals there as it's late afternoon and getting cooler. We have a can each. It’s nothing special, obviously. More about the moment than the beer itself.

After the sun drops, we’re off. On the way back to the hotel I pick up some drinks: soju, water and cola. That should keep me going through the night.

We start the evening at Tom's Bar for the last half hour of happy hour. I get down three cocktails in that time. What a hero I am.

Next is Only Lounge on the riverfront. Where there's a Russian barmaid. Whom Mikey met yesterday. And shared some drinks with back at the hotel.

“She’s the one who noticed that the rum was out of date.”

That’s nice to know.

I order a whisky sour. While Mikey has a cider. I don’t fancy a rum-based cocktail for some reason.

It’s not very busy and we chat with the Russian lass a bit. While we watch the odd cockroach run past. Evidently, they’re fleeing from next door. Right. I totally believe that.

Then it's on to a bar just a few doors along. Bamboo 2 Bar. Where West Ham v Leeds on the telly. Wasn’t that a few days ago?

There are a few interesting characters hanging around. I’ll say no more.

Mikey is on Bia Saigon. Margaritas for me. I’m getting a taste for cocktails. If there isn’t any interesting beer to drink. And industrial beers vaguely in the Pilsner style don’t really grab my attention.

We get talking to the owner and her Australian boyfriend. He’s from Melbourne and we chat about Carlton, where I used to live. And other Australian-themed stuff.

When they close at around 1 AM, the owner asks us to continue on with them. And the rest of the staff. It would be impolite to refuse. I’m all pumped up with cocktails and very polite.

We go to a very Vietnamese place. It’s little more than a roof with a kitchen at the back. And the tiny chairs and tables that make you feel like you’re back at primary school. Except as a full-sized adult.

Me and Mikey have Tiger beer and I have some food. All sorts of stuff. Popadom-like things, clams, fish, hot pot. It’s all very good. And I’m sure very authentic. Just a shame that it’s so late.

And I’m so tired. Or “tired” as Dolores would say. “You’re drunk again, Ronald.”

“No, I’m just tired.”

“Right. ‘tired’.”

“Yes. Exactly. Why else would my legs have gone wobbly?”

Soon it’s 3 AM and we're flagging. We have to get a taxi to our beds. I never stay out this late any more. I rarely make it past midnight, even on my hols.

It’s so late and I’m so knacked, I don’t even glance at Mr Ardmore before crawling into my wonderfully cool bed.



Tom's Bar & Grill
83C Đ. Ng. Thì Sĩ,
Bắc Mỹ An,
Ngũ Hành Sơn,
Đà Nẵng 50507
https://tomsbardanang.com/


Only Lounge Pub
212 Bạch Đằng,
Phước Ninh,
Hải Châu,
Đà Nẵng 550000.
https://onlypub.top/


Bamboo 2 Bar
216 Bạch Đằng,
Phước Ninh,
Hải Châu,
Đà Nẵng 550000.


Quán Chị Ba
Đường 30 Tháng 4,
Phường Khuê Trung,
Quận Hải Châu,
Thành Phố Đà Nẵng.

Vietnam here I am

We get into Bangkok an hour late. But the transfer goes pretty smoothly. Thankfully. I’d been a little worried about that.

It's only a short hop to Hanoi. Though they do serve breakfast. My first of the trip. Rice, veg and meat. Along with an orange juice and a coffee. It’s a welcome distraction. And welcome calories.

All the dull formalities such as immigration and baggage retrieval are soon over. My bag popping out on the carousel almost immediately. Much to my relief. I’m always apprehensive about checking in bags across a transfer.

I pick up my booked taxi just outside the terminal. Soon I'm bouncing along towards the city. Apprehensive about just how misty it looks. Pretty humid, I’m guessing.

I'm pleasantly surprised my how many colonial buildings there still are. And how many mopeds compared to cars. Maybe 20 or 30 to one.

The street the hotel is on is too narrow for cars. We stop at the end of the street where there's someone from the hotel to greet us.

I'm on the sixth floor. With a great view of the houses opposite. Which all seem to be piled on top of each other. And where there's a rooster that keeps crowing. That'll be handy in the morning.

I have a WhatsApp chat with Alexei.

Alexei: "What is Hanoi like?"
"Really cool, from what I've seen of it. A surprising number of colonial buildings around my hotel."
Alexei: "Does it look like France?"
"Yes.”
Alexei: "See any rice baguettes yet?"
“Seen a few bakeries."

I noticed on the way in that there's a beer pub, called New Gentry Beer House, just at the end of the street. Seems a rather bourgeois name for a communist country. I go there for a couple of beers. It would be impolite not to.

Labtory London 1817 Porter 7.1% ABV, 99K for 33 cl (4 euros)
I just had to try this I wasn’t expecting a Porter here in Vietnam. I wonder why they chose the year 1817? It’s a very significant one, after all. What with the invention of black malt that year, transforming Porter grists

Full of Portery goodness. A bit strong for an 1817 Porter. More like a Single Stout of the period, ABV-wise.

It’s a fairly small place. Then again, all the shops are tiny in this part of town. I’m surprised at how many weirdly-shaped old colonial buildings there are. All pretty narrow. Some disproportionately tall. Often not on quite the same alignment as the street.

Quite a few people are drinking Belgian beers. Which would be a bit weird for me.

I’m yawning like crazy. I suppose from that rather long journey. 20 hours from leaving home to getting to my hotel.

Lots of Canadian beer posters adorn the walls. For some reason. Though there is also an advert for Dalex beer engines.

It’s my first time in a communist country for years. Cuba must have been the last. And that was before the kids were born. Ah, happy days.

Time for another beer. 

Thom Reckless IPA, 8.6% ABV, 23 IBU, 99K for 33 cl (4 euros)
Not very bitter at all for an IPA. Is it supposed to be a sludge IPA? I’m not getting much in the way of hop character. Certainly not the citrusy USA stuff. Not sure what to make of it.

Another Thom beer to finish.

Thom Dante’s inferno, 12.7& ABV, 42,5 IBU, 99K for 33 cl (4 euros)
Billed as a Belgian Quadrupel. Definitely an area of my expertise. Not that bad. Bit of spicy yeast. Lots of yummy alcohol. A little sour.

Afterwards, I go a few doors down to a restaurant. As I’m being a lazy git. Where I get some pork thingy for 70K. And a beer for another 20K. It's not bad. The broth is maybe a little sweet. The meat is partly meatballs, partly chunks of pork. I can’t finish all the noodles.

I reacquaint myself with Ardmore back in the cool of my room. My old friend guides me down to slumberland.



New Gentry Beer House
7 P. Hàng Mành,
Hàng Gai,
Hoàn Kiếm,
Hà Nội.
Opens 17:00 – 23:00

Vietnam here I come

I leave home around 13:00 again. My flight being a bit after 17:00. Not that I think it will take hours to complete all the formalities, I just want to take full advantage of the lounge.

Schiphol is nice and empty. It takes no time to check in and go through security and all that shit. There isn’t even much of a queue for passport control.

A young black bloke is getting quite agitated at security. They get an older Surinamese security guy to talk to him. Who is very calm. Turns out he had a little pistol ornament on his key ring. Which they confiscate.

I pick up a bottle of Ardmore and six miniatures of Jack Daniels. I'll need those for the flight.

The lounge isn't too busy. I get stuck into my usual whisky/whiskey combination. And a bit of scran. While reading Private Eye. Which I’m still way behind with. The issue is so old, Lizz Truss is still PM. Whatever happened to her?

I don’t go too crazy. Just four or five rounds of whiskies. Or maybe six. Who’s counting? A couple of plates of food, too. Cheese, ham, olives. Snacky things.

I time going to the gate pretty well and only have to stand around a few minutes before it's time for my pushy-in boarding. I’m getting so good at this. It’s almost like I do it often.

Seated, the lights suddenly go off. The pilot announces that there's a small technical problem. That will take at least 30 minutes to fix. Great. In the meantime, the aircon is off. It soon starts getting quite sweaty. Good preparation for conditions in Vietnam, I suppose.

They manage to fix the problem reasonably quickly. Basically, by switching the faulty system off and on again. Not sure how reassured I am by that.

By now we've missed our take-off slot. Another half hour, the pilot says, until we’ll be able to take off. Mmm. I've only got a couple of hours between flights in Bangkok. I can’t afford too much of a delay.

Luckily, we’re able to take another flight’s slot. And leave only about 45 minutes late. Only. 

The flight is pretty full. Which seems to always be the case again now. No more of the nice quiet planes around Covid time.

The meal is sort of OK. Though my expectations are low. I manage to eat most of it. Once I’ve eaten, I top up my wine with the whiskey miniatures. That’s better. They warm me up a treat. And start getting me in the mood for sleeping later.

I finish watching series 2 of Frayed, which I started on my last trip. Then continue with Mr. Mayor. Which isn't totally terrible. Not totally great, either. I do almost laugh a couple of times.

Then I kip. Quite a god kip, considering. A good 5 or 6 hours. Which eats up a good chunk of the flight. Exactly what I wanted.