Huh? the Tout

I am standing on the side of a wet curb starring wide-eyed at a metal collage of chaos. I see a blue million motor bikes claustrophobically crowding the streets and hear a cacophony of culture shock. These are sights and sounds brewed when it is the law to honk your horn and flash your lights at every intersection. They are causing me to lose it.

Lots and lots of people are everywhere. These foreign-tongued hagglers are fighting tooth and nail for my attention. A man has stopped to fix my shoe. A grinning lady is selling me pineapples in a currency I do not yet understand. A couple of war veterans clothed in their classic bright green uniforms are asking for money. They hold outstretched hands and war helmets while balancing themselves on crippled legs and crutches. By the looks of them, they stepped in the wrong place and went boom.

A woman is pulling my sleeve defiantly. Card is standing next to me waiting for my head and the traffic to clear. I make a mistake. Sue me. I have only been in this mess for two days.
"Where you go? I help you find!," she sounds.
"Okay, come along, if you want," I say, "What's your name?"
"Hai."
"Huh?"
"Yes."

I must have looked like an idiot, for when I turned to look at Card, he is already sighing and shaking his head. We begin following Hai (pronounced Huh?) through a raging zoo of humanity and motor bikes. It seems like it takes hours in this heat and 100% humidity.
"We're looking for a bar called Angelina's, do you know where it is?" I ask.
"Yes."

I should note, Hai neither sounds or looks confident in her response. Card is starring a hole in the back of my head. I can tell he is doing this autonomic response to stress and discontent because I can hear him muttering what a bad idea this all is to himself.

After stopping multiple times to ask for directions, Card and I are soaked from gallons of sweat and we are panting like dogs. Our next task seems clear and inevitable. We begin looking for an ice-cream shop. With absolute certainty and uncanny speed, Card handily points out a nearby shop. This encounter will foreshadow the rest of our trip. Card is amazingly reliable at locating goodies when death is on the line.

Hai tells us to look after her T-shirts while she goes to the street corner in order to ask for directions one last time. It is at this moment, Card realises where in Ha Noi we are standing. He points out a giant-sized, square building that reminds me of Communism.
"Looks like we found it ourselves," he comments as Hai returns smiling.
"Looks like we're buying T-Shirts," I say looking over Hai's head at Card.