We had been walking around Hoan Kiem Lake most of the day, and as usual, I was attracting all the hawkers who wanted me to read The Quiet American. If I refused to read that one, they would quickly produce another, and another. The last resort would be a heap of postcards, and the price would lower as time would pass. I almost always refused politely, shook my head, and said "no" in as many ways as I knew how. These kids are persistent! Had I given into my impulses, our trip back from Vietnam would have included air cargo. Chuck always amused himself photographing these moments and would remind me later of my predicaments through the snapshots. The area around the lake is replete with restaurants, and as we glanced up, we saw the Kim Quy (literally means golden turtle). Enthusiasts of elevated outdoor dining, there was no hesitation between us, so up we went. There were not many diners at this hour, but no matter--they found us a perfect spot on the balcony, with eagle views of the lake, the traffic circle below with the water fountain (ah, visions of Paris, Rome, La Reforma in Mexico), and the building across the street, which later became a fusion of neons in the starless Hanoi night. As we sat, our host unfolded the napkins on our laps and silently disappeared. The view was so engrossing that for a few moments, we forgot why we had come. As the camera clicked away, I watched the insanity of bicycles, motorbikes, buses, and the occasional cars going straight into each other and avoiding any bloodshed. There is a picture below illustrating exactly what I mean. Let’s get down to the food!
Kim Quy has an extensive menu of Vietnamese and French foods, together with a well-stocked liquor cabinet. We both had fish drenched in white sauce with boiled vegetables that were softer than al dente, but quite tasty. Chuck decided on a huge coquille St Jacques--and I do mean huge--that was topped with a béchamel sauce so delicious that I ended up eating it. I must admit, it was very difficult to pay attention to our food since there was so much life happening below us--some of it a bit dangerous, and the rest so vibrant, restless, and teeming with all things moving.
Sunset caught us still sitting at our table, absolutely refusing to move; to prolong the delicious evening, I ordered a white coffee. Thinking I had mastered the coffee thing, I was mortified when it arrived, because it was not at all what I had imagined. White coffee is a very common term in Saigon, but it's apparently not used in Hanoi. The floor manager came to the rescue with superior English and eventually understood what I had asked for. Case solved. Great eatery.