One night in Hanoi, Vietnam - vintage shopping, souvenirs, Train Street and banh mi

Jessie StoelwinderThe West Australian
Camera IconA night in Hanoi shopping for bargains on Train Street. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

You have just one night in Hanoi — what are you going to do with it?

For me, there is no question about it.

I choose tracking down some of the city’s best vintage stores.

It’s my first time in the capital of Vietnam and it’s meant to only be a stopover en route to the airport, as our group transits from the north of the country to an island in the south, Phu Quoc.

But I can’t simply have dinner and roll into bed, even after a long day exploring the scenic countryside of Ninh Binh and a two-hour bus ride to Hanoi.

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No. Not after hearing friends rave about the vibrancy of the metropolis, the fusion of French and Vietnamese architecture, the bustling markets and the bargain hunting. And the banh mi, of course.

I’ve also been told not to miss the vintage shopping, which is my equivalent of an extreme sport.

So while I am sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of the coach to Hanoi, I decide to craft my own mini walking tour to experience a taste of the city in three hours, guided by a list of must-visit second-hand stores.

I pin the addresses one by one in Google Maps, and am pleased to find they are all roughly situated in the historic Old Quarter.

I also add in a couple of quirky gift stores and a banh mi joint I’ve heard makes a great vegan version (thanks TikTok), and the main street for the night market.

When the bus rolls into the hotel, it’s 6pm and I am ready to make the most of these few precious moments in Hanoi.

Walk the line

The adventure begins at the famous Train Street, which is already glowing with neon lights and lanterns as the daylight fades.

For the uninitiated, this is a narrow laneway lined with cafes and bars that’s barely wider than the old train tracks running down the middle.

A train hurtles through the thoroughfare a few times a day, just inches away from thrillseekers sipping their coffee. The schedule is like clockwork; before the rumble of the approaching carriage, shop owners pull tables in and usher punters (just) out of harm’s way.

While I can’t hang around for the next train at 7.30pm, I delight in walking on the rock ballast between the tracks and taking in the effervescent scene. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

Hole-in-the-wall cafes are crammed beside one another, the most popular ones packed with patrons laughing over beers, and ornate balconies strung with fairy lights and bunting hang overhead.

I wonder, how a whole train can fit through this skinny passageway, but I have seen the videos on social media that have helped make this century-old occurrence a must-see in recent years, and it’s certainly not for the faint of heart.

Camera IconA night in Hanoi on Train Street. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconA night in Hanoi on Train Street. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconJessie Stoelwinder on Train Street. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconA night in Hanoi on Train Street. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

Treasure hunting

Maps leads me away from Train Street and around a few corners to my next destination: House of Vintage Jewelry.

This little shop is full to the brim with trinkets and miniature curios but, as the name suggests, I’m here for the jewellery.

It’s all scattered in museum-style drawers and there’s a certain novelty in pulling each one out, not sure of the treasures you’ll find inside.

One is full of 1980s clip-on earrings, another with retro watches. More drawers hide gaudy costume pieces, chunky bracelets, tie clips, college pins and painted enamel brooches.

A shop assistant hands me a tray to curate my collection as I go. But I have to admit, the volume is a little overwhelming and after some time rifling between rings and necklaces, I only have two pieces on my tray and neither make it to the checkout.

Still, the experience was intriguing and I look forward to returning when I have more time — I can already tell this won’t be my last visit to Hanoi.

Camera IconHouse of Vintage Jewelry. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconHouse of Vintage Jewelry. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

The perfect gift

The following two stops are cute shops I’m hoping will have some unique souvenirs.

It can be surprisingly tricky to find quality handmade wares while abroad to bring home as gifts or mementos, and I am always on the lookout for something different that captures the energy of a place.

Liu Lo Arts and Craft is just that. This tiny store down an alleyway is a community for local makers and artists to show their goods and is full of pint-sized products that encompass the kaleidoscope that is Vietnam.

A rack of fun postcards immediately calls my attention and I grab a few to frame as artworks for my place.

Not far from here is Cerender, a wonderful two-level ceramics shop bursting with hand-painted bowls, mugs, plates, spoons and serving dishes sporting characters, animals and sweet patterns.

I could easily come away with anything on the shelves, but I most enjoy looking at chopstick rests in the shape of fish and cats. I select two, and also a dainty bowl and trinket dish to bring home.

The four items came to around $10, which hands-down beats the plasticky souvenirs found in airport gift stores.

Camera IconLiu Lo Arts & Craft. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconCeramics at Cerender. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconCerender ceramics. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

You had me at banh mi

It must be time for dinner.

Rather than wandering unfamiliar streets getting progressively more hangry, I always like to have a couple of recommended food spots pinned in advance. Life is simply too short to eat bad fare, I think.

Banh Mi 25 had great reviews when I searched for “best banh mi in Hanoi” earlier in the day, and its extensive menu even boasts four vegan versions of the popular Vietnamese sandwich.

I front up to the teeny storefront and watch fresh buns being stuffed with various fillings, pate, pickled carrot, coriander and fresh chilli.

After ordering my roll, I do the maths and realise the 40,000 Vietnamese dong price tag is the equivalent of less than $2.40.

In Hanoi, the way to eat banh mi is on a stool on the sidewalk, so I bundle in with other diners and bite into the crunchy bread. It’s delicious — even though it covers me in crumbs.

A couple of other Aussies jump on the table with me and we chat over our bargain dinner about how awesome Hanoi is and where else we have each been in Vietnam, and they show me their market purchases from the day.

The atmosphere is relaxed and convivial; busy and bustling without feeling frenetic. It’s now fully dark outside but at no point do I feel unsafe as a solo gal in a foreign city.

Camera IconA kerbside restaurant. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

Second-hand scores

I realise I have buried the lead: I promised vintage shopping in this piece, and now we have at last reached the main event.

By this point it’s after 8pm and I know I won’t make it to every store on my list, but there’s a collection all in the same block that I decide to hit up.

First is Cua Hang Bach Hoa Soa 26, which has bright orange walls and racks of crisply pressed vintage clothing.

It’s mostly menswear but that will never stop me — some of my favourite second-hand purchases have come from the gents’ section.

There are worn-in vintage T-shirts, corduroy jackets that you could imagine a lumberjack wearing, plaid shirts, and a whole rail of Dickie’s work uniforms, many with the original wearer’s name embroidered on the chest.

I decide to try on a black shirt bearing the insignia “TP Tools & Equipment” for a laugh but I actually really like the boxy fit and construction, so I take it to the counter, along with two super-soft oversized printed tees.

In Australia, vintage tees like these could easily be $80 a pop, but here they are about $25. While it’s not thrift shop prices, I appreciate the store’s considered curation of items, especially when I am in a time crunch.

Camera IconCua Hang Bach Hoa So 26. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

Practically next door is The 27 Klub. If Cua Hang Bach Hoa So 26 had an outdoorsy, workwear aesthetic, this one is Western meets rock star.

Leather cowboy boots with genuine patina sit beside cropped Carhartt jackets, heavy metal T-shirts and boiler suits.

I grab some Levi’s jorts, a rodeo belt with a buckle from Texas, and a blue NASCAR racing jacket with flames running up the arms to take to the fitting room.

As the last shop proved, it’s often worth taking a risk and trying left-field garments on, as you never know what could be an unexpected win.

Again, the gamble pays off — I love both the belt and the jacket. They are about $30 and $80 respectively, which is more than reasonable considering their rarity and condition (later I research the jacket and learn it’s an early 2000s Jeff Gordon number, with similar ones fetching up to $400 on eBay).

Camera IconThe 27 Klub. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconThe 27 Klub. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconThe 27 Klub. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconThrift items at The 27 Klub. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

There’s a second outpost of The 27 Klub a block down, so I have a browse in there, then go into neighbouring shop Chan Con Cong.

This one has far more women’s clothing, with patterned silk shirts, upcycled Ralph Lauren bags, cat-eye sunglasses, embellished vests and satin scarves from floor to ceiling. A mezzanine level has retro cheerleading and bowling bomber jackets in every colour of the rainbow.

I’ve hit retail fatigue so I only buy a beaded necklace here, but I am stoked with my spoils overall.

I’ve heard Hanoi also has plenty of bargain second-hand stalls where you rummage through heaving piles of clothes to find diamonds in the rough for small change. I resolve to make that an adventure for my next visit.

Camera IconChan Con Cong. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian
Camera IconChan Con Cong. Credit: Jessie Stoelwinder/The West Australian

Markets by night

It’s 10pm on a Friday and the Old Quarter is showing no sign of slowing down, with people enjoying the warm air as they slurp bowls of pho made fresh on the street.

I get a watermelon and pineapple juice with lots of ice from a cart laden with tropical fruits and meet up with a friend to peruse the open-air night market, Dong Xuan.

Designer dupes and replica sunglasses are on display in dizzying numbers, plus frangipani-shaped hairclips, cartoon keychains and gimmicky souvenirs.

Prices are only ever a suggestion — halve that number and haggle away until you land on a deal with the seller.

Hanoi hums with joy and I’m swept up in the liveliness of the city. Yes, I only had a few hours here but my little self-guided tour gave me a taste of its charming personality and left me hungry for more.

When I return to Perth and properly survey my stash, I’m pleased with my vintage mementos of Vietnam. I just need to find a fitting occasion to debut my flame-scorched Jeff Gordon jacket.

+ Jessie Stoelwinder was a guest of Vietnam Airlines. They have not influenced this story or read it before publication.

fact file

+ Vietnam Airlines flies direct from Perth to Ho Chi Minh City.

+ From there, Hanoi is just over two hours by plane. vietnamairways.org

+ We stayed at Hotel du Parc Hanoi. hotelduparchanoi.com

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