Hanoi 12 Frames

Hanoi on 12 Frames a Day by Kiribane Photography

Or: How I Tried to Cross the Street and Accidentally Found Enlightenment

Let’s get this out of the way: Vietnam is not just a country.

It’s a full-blown visual opera, performed in five chaotic acts per street corner, starring scooters, soup, incense smoke, spontaneous kindness, and a level of street life density that makes central Manhattan look like a spa resort.

As a street photographer armed with my trusted Hasselblad 500CM, a 50mm lens the size of a camping stove, and a digital back for good measure, I assumed I was prepared. I had packed film, batteries, curiosity, and a slight sense of superiority for choosing medium format.

I had also skimmed two books from the travel shelf at the airport. They promised “serene lakes, poetic pagodas, and warm people.”

Spoiler: Hanoi is less ‘serene’ and more like if a wet market, a moped race, and a turbocharged espresso machine had a love child.

Chapter 1: A Traffic Ballet, Sans Music, With Slight Danger

Crossing the street in Hanoi is not so much walking as bargaining with fate. There is no “gap” in traffic. There is only movement. The trick is: you move as if you’re not afraid to die.(You’re very afraid to die, but no one must know.)

I stepped off the curb as if beginning a tai chi sequence, surrounded by scooters, fruit carts, and the occasional dog that seemed to understand traffic better than I did.

Meanwhile, the Hasselblad dangled like a bronze temple bell from my shoulder. People stared. One man whispered to his friend, pointing at the lens like it was some Cold War artifact. A teenager offered to trade me his motorbike for it. (I considered it. My legs were tired.)

📷 Tip 1: Wear a strong, padded strap. That Hassy gets heavy after the fourth kilometer and unpredictable when you’re dodging street noodles and headlamps.

📷 Tip 2: Don’t be afraid to look a little ridiculous. The camera already does it for you. Might as well lean in.

Chapter 2: Street Life, or: Why I Stopped Looking for “Subjects”

In Vietnam, you don’t find moments – they find you.

One second you’re photographing a bubbling pot of pho; the next, you’re being offered tea by a grandmother who assumes you’re lost and hungry (you are, both).

There’s no such thing as “blending in” when you’re tall, pale, and carrying what looks like a small toaster oven. But surprisingly, people welcomed it.

Children giggled, pulled at my shirt, and pointed at the black LCD screen. Some expected to see their photo instantly. I just kept the screen black and nodded gravely, as if shooting film. (It’s all about the illusion of mystery.)

📷 Tip 3: Keep the screen off if using digital – it removes distraction and adds mystique.

📷 Tip 4: Smile. It gets you 70% closer to a good photo than any exposure setting ever will.

📷 Tip 5: If invited into a scene, stay. Sit. Accept the tea. Sometimes the best frame happens five minutes after you were about to leave.

📷 Tip 6: Never shoot down on people sitting or crouching. Kneel, bend, squat – humility in posture translates to respect in the photo.

Chapter 3: What 12 Frames Teach You That 12,000 Never Will

Even with the digital back, I shot as if I were on film. Restraint is not a virtue – it’s a survival technique when you’re hauling medium format in 35°C heat.

Every frame was a ceremony.

Focus. Breathe. Wait. Honk. Clack. Breathe again.

I never reviewed shots on location – not because I’m noble, but because I couldn’t see anything on the screen under the sun. In hindsight, this was a blessing.

📷 Tip 7: Limit yourself on purpose. 12 thoughtful shots are better than 1200 “maybes.”

📷 Tip 8: Use waist-level viewfinder like a periscope. People behave differently when they don’t realize they’re being photographed.

📷 Tip 9: Set your exposure before entering a scene. You want to be responsive, not fiddling.

📷 Tip 10: Shoot wide open only when necessary. f/8 and be patient – zone focus is your invisible assistant.

Chapter 4: From Highlands to the Mekong – The Wide Lens of Contradiction

After Hanoi’s riot of light and sound, I moved south. The central highlands: earthy, tough, still human. And then: the Mekong. Vast, poetic, and quiet – like the country paused to inhale.

Gone were the scooters. Here came boats, silence, and time. People moved slower, worked in rhythm with water, not engines. The Hasselblad sang its little clack and no one flinched. We were in a different movement of the symphony.

📷 Tip 11: Adjust your rhythm to the region – don’t photograph silence like it’s noise.

📷 Tip 12: Take one step back. Let people forget you’re there. Sometimes the space around the subject carries more soul than the subject itself.

Chapter 5: The Emotional Overflow (and a Bit of Dust in My Eye)

A photo isn’t just a picture. It’s a tiny moment of mutual recognition, frozen in silver (or sensor).

I remember one shot: a boy with a paper kite, bare feet, eyes like lanterns. He smiled as I focused, then turned and ran. I pressed the shutter a second too late. And yet, when I developed the image, the motion blur felt like truth.

📷 Tip 13: Missed moments aren’t failures. They’re part of the rhythm. Trust your timing, not perfection.

📷 Tip 14: Print your photos. You’ll see things on paper you never noticed on screen.

📷 Tip 15: And never forget: the camera is only half the tool. The other half is the time you give.

Final Thought (and Travel Tip #92)

If you ever find yourself in Hanoi with a Hasselblad around your neck, wear a good strap, carry extra film, and surrender to the chaos. Let the city sweep you up, bounce you between scooters, offer you something fried, something smiling, and something so quietly human it catches in your throat.

And when in doubt?

Start crossing the street.

The city will take care of the rest.