You know who you are – you guys are everywhere.

Sadly I’m a savory kind of guy. So when my partner suggested we head off for an afternoon of chocolaty treats, I wasn’t too eager.

“What about lunch?” I ask sheepishly.

“That is lunch” she replies.

Meeting our friends outside the stately lake-side lodgings, we pass doll-like newly-weds posing in front of a vintage model Citroen, and go through the big French doors. It’s like stepping into the roaring twenties novel ‘The Great Gatsby’ with its airy atmosphere and colonial era décor.

Entering the buffet room, to the left are shelves stacked with sweet delights, and on the right tropical fruits and tiered mini-sandwiches that look like glazed tartlets.

Just like the chocolate fountain tempting us nearby, my friends are overflowing with sugary joy.

Me? Not so much.

I’d be all over a burger or Bun Cha buffet. But two hours of bonbons and brownies, and I’ll go into a choco-induced coma.

So I start off with a plate-full of cucumber and roast beef sandwiches, cut into tiny cubes. My friends look a bit embarrassed, clumsily shifting their heavy cane chairs away from me as I sprinkle salt and pepper on my caramel and orange brandy crepe.

I fill up on fruit, but that’s just not doing it. I start eyeing off the Ganache-filled truffles and white chocolate mousse on my girlfriend’s plate, as I stir my cappuccino with what appears to be a cigar, but is actually a cinnamon stick.

Ceiling fans swing above, like undersized versions of the billowing sails on a Ha Long Bay Junk, and I half expect one of the waiters to offer me a “martini, shaken not stirred”. But instead they point to the smorgasbord of treats and tell me they actually serve chocolate at this chocolate buffet.

Ok. I get it. I know what I’m doing:

Disgracing my buddies. Slowing down the global Cacao trade. And being a big party pooper.

Besides, that chocolate buffet’s starting to look pretty titillating.

Before I know it I’ve cleared my surprised girlfriend’s plate, and I’m at the candy-coated bar scoffing down chocolates of every size, shape and variety.

Something’s happening.

Surrounded by all this Old World Charm and packs of impassioned choco-holics, I’ve got the ‘Sweet-tooth Fever’.

Everyone smiles at me and pats me on the back, as I wipe Friand crumbs off my chin. Lapping up the Metropole’s lush ambience we gorge ourselves on cake and custard, as the sun descends over Hanoi’s hazy scooter-clogged streets.

The restaurant is now empty but we’re still going strong.

“Ummm, excuse me. The chocolate buffet is over”, a chic-looking waitress explains awkwardly.

As we’re ushered out of the hotel I think to myself:

But we're just getting started…

                                                                                                                                                 Joel Katz