It’s funny how things even up in the end. After the tortuous India-Nepal border crossing, entering Vietnam is a dream. Our 4-and-a-bit hour flight from Delhi leaves before midnight and lands 5am local time, and at Hanoi we hit an empty airport, a passport check that takes thirty seconds, and a computer system which knows we already have our visas sorted. A matter of minutes later, we’ve bought and activated a Viettel SIM card, grabbed 3 million dong from the ATM (no really) and are on our way into the city.  “Massage massage” call various tiny ladies on even tinier plastic stools outside each of the parlours in the tight…