Western Night 


An afternoon flight leaves little time pre flight once you take into account travel and arriving early to check in. So other than breakfast nothing happened in the morning before our flight to Hanoi, Vietnam.

Once landed and after a little confusion at border control with which gate to aprroach (depending on your visa length) we were all stamped in and our 15 day dash down Vietnam had started. In the border control line we met 2 new friends, Jim and Lindesy. Getting to know them on the public bus to the city we decided to get a bite to eat and drinks however, as they became unstuck with their accommodation, we met them later for just drinks. 

With myself just fully recovered from the dangerous man flu and Abi having a stomach similar to one of those giant buckets at a water park, the ones that slowly fill up until brimed, before tipping and emptying all its contents on park goes below, we decided to have a western night. 

I feel this night was long over due for the both of us, an evening sat in an English pub enjoying a large juicy western burger whilst watching the premier league. Bliss! To complete the puzzle, we met our new English friends and enjoyed more beer (not English unfortunately but cheap!), watching more football, talking about football and sharing football related stories. Not sure what the girls talked about? I guess what pyjamas they wear or the shade and strength of mascara and how its effected by the humidty – I’m not to clued up on female pub talk. To make things interesting and truest British, the females went off to bed around 11.30pm, secure with the knowledge their men will be home in 30 minutes. Hahahaha we all knew what was panning out here. 30 minutes later the next football starts, the bill for 8-9 beers each, and the few girls drinks came in at £7.50 each, so we felt we had money to play with. Then the words of a good night were spoken, “OK I’ll have one more.” 2.30am rolls round, we’ve had a chicken kebab off the street, our new Vietminese friends have gone to bed and I’m walking around Hanoi’s Old quater in search of the hostel. Turning a 300m walk into a 30 minute hike before being rescued by some fellow hostel campers. It was music to my ears when they announced they also stay at Central Backpackers, so I followed, like a lost dog, tail between my legs back to the room. 


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