Long-distance travel: Hanoi, a taste of legend

In the heart of Hanoi, the street smokes, crackles, and bustles. It lives at thigh height, between the scent of a clear broth and the clatter of plastic stools. In front of Pho 10 Ly Quoc Su, we wait patiently for a soup in no hurry. Across the street, the same pho, the same happiness, without the line. Further on, at Bún cha Huong Liên, we dip grilled pork in sweet and sour nuoc mam. The walls, for their part, preserve the memory of Obama and Bourdain, seated at a table on an evening like any other.

Because Hanoi isn't something you read: it's something you devour. Every alley leads somewhere else. We pass Saint Joseph's Cathedral, a Gothic pastiche placed there as if by mistake, the half-open shutters of the colonial quarter, the scooters that slip through a ballet of shadows and noise. Further north, the halls of the Dong Xuan market overflow with coriander, lotuses, live fish, and incense. People talk loudly. They laugh heartily. They happily lose themselves there.

To the east, on the shores of Hoan Kiem Lake, badminton players rub shoulders with old ladies walking backward to ward off time. We push on to the Hanoi Opera House, a majestic straw-yellow building inspired by the Palais Garnier, where classical concerts alternate with the honking of horns outside. Nearby, the Museum of Fine Arts displays its lacquerware and Buddhas in a cool, cool atmosphere ideal for the afternoon.

On the way back, a gourmet break is essential at Bánh Mi 25, perfectly crisp. In this still-warm baguette, the combination of homemade pâté, coriander, carrot pickles, and white radishes, topped with a dash of chili sauce, creates a perfect balance. Fatty, acidic, herbaceous, crunchy: a true street food. You can eat standing up or sitting on the sidewalk, surrounded by aromas, between parked scooters and the murmur of nearby kitchens.

In an upstairs café, you order an egg coffee, a dense, warm foam, almost like a flan. This strange, creamy, and sweet beverage is a miracle: in 1946, a bartender at the Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi had the idea of ​​replacing the milk with beaten egg yolk. The mistake became iconic. The gesture spread, even to the sidewalks.

Also read: Street food, eight wonders to taste in Hanoi

The Métropole, for its part, says nothing. It observes. The first palace opened by the Sofitel group, located in the city's oldest French Quarter, it offers a hushed counterpoint to the bustle outside. Charlie Chaplin spent his wedding night there with Paulette Goddard in 1936. Graham Greene, Somerset Maugham, and Catherine Deneuve did too. The old wing, renovated in 2024, has regained its woodwork, carpeted corridors, and legendary suites.

Even today, on the frangipani-lined patio, people linger over a blackcurrant vermouth, a writer's drink, in a still air. The new spa stretches over 400 m², but it's at the Michelin-starred Beaulieu that precision is savored. Cuisine is French in its gestures, Vietnamese in its inspiration, nourished by the morning market and served without pomposity. In the dining room, gestures are subdued, voices are soft, and plates are neat.

By day, Hanoi explodes. By night, it fades. And in the discreet velvet of a palace that has seen many things, everything continues to be told. In hushed voices.

Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi (00.84.24.3826.6919; Sofitel.accor.com). From €265 per night.