The night train to Da Nang

Sunday 17 June

Our night train to Da Nang, from where we'll get a taxi to Hoi An tomorrow morning, leaves Hanoi station at 7 pm this evening.  We decide to have a relaxing day today, after our tour of Halong Bay, and get up late for breakfast. We have to check out of the hostel room at 12 noon, but as usual can leave our luggage here until we are ready to leave for our train at 6.00 pm.

We pack up our belongings. This takes me over an hour as I sort out the bags we brought back from Halong Bay, fold our clean washing which I've just collected from the hostel reception, and rearrange my large suitcase a little to fit everything in. It takes Reg 10 minutes to stuff his clothes and washbag rapidly into his rucksack.

We are able to pay by Visa at this hostel but our card is declined. We try another card, that is declined too. I tell the hostel receptionist that I know the cards should be fine, and our bank knows we're in Vietnam – we don't really want to have to go to an ATM and draw out all that cash, but it looks like we'll have to. More worrying is that the cards aren't working – the credit card worked fine in China a few days ago.

Suddenly the hostel receptionist says we could try to pay at their other hotel across the road if we want to, to see if our card works in their machine. We brave the torrent of motorcyclists and try the other hotel; our card is accepted immediately. Such is finance in Vietnam.

We are going to visit the Hanoi War Museum this afternoon; on the way we think it'll be nice to stop for a coffee (and tea for Reg). The temperature must be 35ºc, and I'm already oozing with sweat. We're given a menu; Reg orders a black tea and I ask for a cappuccino.

“Wait, wait.” The waitress disappears, then returns. “Sorry, no have.”

“I'll have a coffee with milk then, please.”

A few minutes later the waitress appears with iced tea and iced coffee. Reg and I look at each other.

“Sorry, we didn't order this. We asked for a black tea and a coffee with milk.”says Reg. " We would like hot tea, and hot coffee, please."

The waitress doesn't understand; she goes off and another, unsmiling, woman comes out.

“What you want?”

“We ordered a black tea and a coffee with milk, please.  Hot."

With a face like thunder, the woman whisks our iced drinks away. A few minutes later, a black tea arrives, and half a mug of thick, strong black coffee. I ask for some milk. The dead-pan faced woman brings out a tin of sweet, thick, condensed milk and pours some in the coffee mug, then disappears.

“I can't drink this, it's vile,” I say to Reg, feeling sorry for myself, as he enjoys his cup of black tea.

“Well, leave it then.” (dear Lisa, dear Lisa), says Reg, reading his downloaded English papers on his phone.

“But then I haven't got a drink,” I moan.

“Well, have a cold drink from the fridge over there. Have a Sprite.”

“Would you get it for me?”

Reg sighs, gets up, goes to the back of the cafe, tells the woman I can't drink the coffee and am taking a Sprite from the fridge, and sits back down to read his papers in peace. I read my kindle; when we do get up to leave, the unsmiling woman must be glad to get rid of us. But should it really be that difficult to get a cup of tea and coffee?  To be fair, she doesn't charge us for the coffee.

We visit the Hanoi War Museum; it details Vietnam's war history over the centuries, and of course there is a whole section, complete with artefacts and many black-and-white photographs, showing how “North Vietnam liberated South Vietnam from the American aggressors”. Naturally the whole story illustrates Vietnam's glorious victory over the Americans; there's even a video showing how it was done.

The war museum is fascinating, but after a couple of hours I'm weary. Near the museum is a tourist

cafe, a bit more expensive, but I have a nasi goreng (special fried rice), complete with soy sauce, and it's the best meal I'd had in Vietnam. Reg has spaghetti bolognese.

We return to our hostel; it's wonderful to escape the overpowering heat and enter the air-conditioned reception area. We have time to sit for a while in the cool, before gathering together our luggage and saying goodbye to the lovely hostel staff.

It's only a few minutes by taxi to the station. We're struck by the difference between this station and the Chinese ones; we can go straight to the platform and board our train, which is already there. No barriers to hold us in the waiting room until the guard lets us go.

The Vietnamese train is very similar to all the other sleeper trains we've been on, though not quite as clean. We find we are sharing with a Russian mother and her grown-up daughter, who are holidaying in Vietnam too. The daughter can speak English; we catch up a little on each other's stories. It's the first time since the Ukraine that we've shared our cabin with anyone who speaks English! And in the Ukraine it was 2 young Russian women.

There are several other Western tourists in our carriage, including 4 young women from Australia. I'm sure that they're all travelling to Da Nang, from where we'll all make our way by bus or taxi to Hoi An tomorrow morning.