It’s a wild place, built around a tranquil lake in the centre of the city that is constantly circled by whizzing motorbikes blaring their horns and laden down by families of four, sometimes five.
They jockey for position between teeming throngs of taxis and exhaust and noise and cars and overloaded bicycles swerving through lineless lanes. Then meandering pedestrians in colourful clothes, sweaty tourists, wandering drones, and locals in pointed hats with bars on their sturdy shoulders like the banana scales of justice.
It is the perfect blend of France and the East. On one hand they live in a European land. Fantastic architecture with the skinny, tall, colourful houses and terraces and patios fit for the common royal, and delightful cuisine and joie de vivre. A necessary leisure that is second to nothing. On the other it’s the polar extreme. It’s all Asia, with driven sentiments, heritage and hustle.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
It’s a fantastic place and I wish I had more time.
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