Hustle.

Lights of my life.

Hanoi, Vietnam – “Motorbike?” “Shine!” “Sir!!”

Each call comes with a little more urgency, the sound of sandalled footfalls in step with the pleading cries: “One dollar!!!”

In Hanoi, there's no question there's sufficient hustle to match the bustle. On each corner, everyone is just trying to make a wage – which doesn't mean it's not tiring. Indignant shoe shiners refuse to understand why I have no desire to have them shine my sport sandals. Unchastened, they produce small vials of crazy glue to repair some unseen flaw.

I smile, and carry on.

A motorbike taxi driver with a large, fake rose tattoo on his arm offers to give me a tour of the city. When I say no, he offers to take me to a bar tonight. “Woman?” Everything’s a hustle of some sort.

I step over tools spread across the sidewalk as a welder shoots fire like the dragons that are so prevalent around the city. There are cannibalized parts of scooters and motorbikes in need of repair, which is not surprising given that there are an estimated three million motorbikes in this city of seven million.

Meals on Wheels.

Older women with rusty brown bicycles haul baskets of flowers and fruit; others light small barbeques on the sidewalk to grill skewers of meat for sandwiches. Regardless of the time of day, young women offer baskets of donuts that appear fresh from the fryer.

There’s no shortage of food, coffee, shops, bia hoi, or activity.

With so much going on, it’s very easy to get lost in Hanoi.

Which is often the best way to see a city, and to take its pulse.