Long Biên Bridge

Listen first. Under your feet, the boards shift slightly. A motorbike hums past at your shoulder, close enough to feel the warm air from its engine. Somewhere behind you, a train horn sounds, long and low. Then the whole structure begins to shudder, gently at first, then more strongly, as carriages roll along the track in the centre. This is Long Biên Bridge. For more than a century, it has carried Hanoi across the Red River, and it still trembles when the trains go by.

Look down through the gaps in the walkway. The water below is a thick, reddish brown. That colour gives the river its name. It carries silt from far upstream in the mountains, and it has fed the farmland of northern Vietnam for thousands of years. It has also flooded that land, again and again. The river is wide here, and it was hard to cross. For most of Hanoi's history, people crossed it by ferry and small boat.

That changed at the very start of the twentieth century. At that time, Vietnam was part of French Indochina. The colonial government wanted a rail link between Hanoi and the port of Haiphong, near the coast. Construction began in 1899, and the bridge opened in 1902. When it opened, it was one of the longest bridges in Asia. Thousands of Vietnamese labourers did the heavy work, on the riverbed and high up on the steel.

The French named the bridge after Paul Doumer, the Governor-General of Indochina. He pushed the project forward. Many years later, he became President of France. After the French left, the bridge received a new name. Long Biên is the name of the district on the far bank. Most people in Hanoi simply call it Cầu Long Biên. The word cầu means bridge.

Here is a story that many visitors hear, and it is not quite true. People often say that Gustave Eiffel designed this bridge, the same man behind the tower in Paris. It is an easy mistake to make. The steel lattice looks very similar to his work. However, the contract went to a different French engineering firm, Daydé and Pillé. Eiffel's company built many bridges in that era, but this one was not his.

Now look at the layout around you. The single railway track runs down the middle. On each side, there is a narrow lane for motorbikes and bicycles. Then there is a thin footpath along the very edge. Cars are not allowed. Since the 1980s, a newer bridge just downstream, the Chương Dương Bridge, has carried most of the heavy traffic. Long Biên became a slower crossing, for two wheels, for feet, and for trains.

Watch the direction of the motorbikes. Here is a detail that most visitors miss. In Vietnam, traffic drives on the right. But on Long Biên Bridge, the motorbikes keep to the left. One common explanation is that this layout puts traffic on the correct side as it comes off the bridge and joins the streets below. Whatever the reason, it is a small, surprising quirk. If you walk the bridge, remember it before you step off the footpath.

The darkest chapter in the bridge's life came during the war with the United States. It was the main rail link into Hanoi from the coast, so it became a major target. American aircraft bombed it many times between the late 1960s and the early 1970s. Sections of steel fell into the river. Each time, workers repaired the damage, often very quickly and often at night. For people in Hanoi, the bridge became a symbol of endurance.

You can still see that history in the steel itself. Walk slowly and look along the line of the spans. Some sections do not quite match their neighbours. The shape of the trusses changes in places. These are the parts that were rebuilt after the bombing. The original curved spans stand next to plainer replacements. The bridge is a patchwork, and every patch has a story.

Now look down at the river again, toward the middle of the stream. You may see a long, low sandbank covered in green. Locals often call it Banana Island. Families farm vegetables and fruit there, on soil that the river leaves behind each year. From the bridge, you can see small paths, plots, and simple shelters. It feels very rural, yet the centre of a capital city is only a few minutes' walk away.

Mornings here belong to the people who work. Before sunrise, farmers and traders cross the bridge with baskets of produce. Many of them head for Long Biên Market, near the Hanoi end of the bridge. Motorbikes pass with towers of flowers, bananas, or cages strapped to the back. Later in the day, the mood changes. Young couples come to take photographs. Wedding shoots use the rusted steel as a backdrop. In the evening, people stop to watch the river and the city lights.

On the Hanoi side, the railway does not end at the riverbank. It continues on a long viaduct of brick arches, which runs above the streets toward the centre of the city. This viaduct was part of the same colonial railway project. Over the years, people have built homes, shops, and cafés under and beside the arches. Recently, some of the arches have been opened up and decorated with murals. It is worth walking down to see them from street level.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment and look along the bridge. The steel is dark and weathered, with patches of rust and fresh paint side by side. The river runs beneath you, the same colour it has always been. A train may pass again, and the boards will shake. This structure has outlived its colonial builders and survived the bombs. Every day, it still carries the people of Hanoi from one bank to the other. As you walk away, listen for that train horn. It is one of the oldest sounds in the city.