KEY POINTS:
Two and a half weeks in 'Nam begins with a punch in the face. Or at least that's what the humidity in this city of cassette-shaped buildings, winding roads, motorbikes, turgid lakes and history triumphant and tragic feels like.
One walk around the hotel block has already revealed a couple of delicate patches of sweat and the decision to buy that fake Lacoste shirt of dark, moisture-hiding colour looks a wise one.
Maybe it's not so much the heat and humidity and more the stress of crossing the street and staying alive, but back home, two ovals of sweat just south of the pecs and several smaller ones on the back would have me embarrassed at my over-efficient cooling system.
Here, even the pretty girls look reassuringly dishevelled and besides, if I wanted a sweat-free holiday I could've always swapped this for a trip to balmy mid-winter Dunedin.
Sweat aside, I never wanted this to be a straightforward Gold Coast-style "nothing but theme-parks and beaches" holiday.
Thrill rides of a different variety are just as much fun here, namely using pedestrian crossings during rush hour.
As anyone who's been here knows, it's the reasons beyond frolicking in the sun that have recently made this country the fourth fastest growing tourist destination on the planet.
In Hanoi, those reasons didn't hit us as immediately as that spectacular humidity, but they still floored us all.
"Us" in this case is the group of 10 doing a 22-day Intrepid trip through Vietnam and Cambodia. Like all good tourists, we've read the travel guides and have come prepared for a city raved about as bursting with culture, charm and a history so deep it makes the Vietnam War (or "American War" as it's locally known) seem like a blip, albeit a disastrous one.
That said, what no guide told me was that building rentals in Hanoi are charged based on the width of the frontage, not the square metres, hence, "the city of cassettes". Still to be a catchphrase adopted by the Vietnamese Tourism Board, yet everywhere I look from my eighth-floor hotel window I see other tall, long and ridiculously narrow cassette-proportioned towers placed on their ends, ready to topple with the slightest breath.
Compare this with the breathtaking architecture of the countless temples (including the 1000-year-old Temple of Literature, one of the world's oldest universities), the ramshackle charm of the French colonial buildings (many of which are now embassies) and the many algae-tastic lakes and it's still a city several notches short of beautiful.
Regardless, whatever it is, Hanoi is a city none of us would think was without character.
Those guide books also didn't tell me of the near euphoric experience of riding a cyclo through the mad roundabouts of Hanoi's famed Old Quarter. There's room for just one oversized foreigner on the front seat while the 45kg old man (with muscles the definition of lithe) pedals at the back. Local guide Huy has warned us we'll feel like we're about to die but to rest assured, the traffic will magically part before we have a head-on collision.
Day two and I put it to the test and straight away find myself praying something along the lines of, "Dear Lord, please let me live and I'm sorry I figured out how to use the work vending machine without paying." Sure enough, just as I take my last breath, the traffic divides around me like the Red Sea and I live to buy another fake Lacoste.
It's here I realize even the constant honking of horns is starting to grow on me. There's no such thing as road-rage in Hanoi, just a never-ending series of duck calls letting the three million other motorbikes know you're there. It's almost rude not to honk.
With already well-worn ear-plugs, on the evening of day three we say goodbye to this steaming, surprising mess of a city. Surprising because nobody tells it like it is about Hanoi, maybe because nobody can even begin to place a finger on why they like the place so much. Beautiful it may not be, but for a slowly gentrifying model of one of the most war-ravaged cities of the 20th century, Hanoi is also one of the most beguiling.
Above all the shopping (seven polos of questionable repute), the delicious food, the daily mango shakes and the moving history, what stands apart in this city is a people who may not have forgotten the dark decades, but they've definitely forgiven and want us there, not just because we have money.
They're proud of their city and want to show it off to you, whether you're a Kiwi, a Brit and yes, even an American.
Anyway, if it's physical beauty you want, it's only a three-hour bus trip away.
With 3000 limestone peaks rising from the South China Sea, we'd soon see why descriptions of Halong Bay as Vietnam's greatest natural wonder would still be an understatement. Just don't forget those dark Lacostes.
Tim Roborogh flew to Vietnam courtesy of Flight Centre. This is the first of five articles exploring SE Asia.
