As I have my last breakfast here in Hanoi and my last meal in Vietnam, I am full of so many thoughts. One more stroll down one of Hanoi’s pleasant avenues is all I have time for now. I said my goodbyes to my fellow travelers and we promised to meet in the future in Australia, the United States or somewhere in between. I lamented having to say goodbye to Anh, my Vietnamese friend and tour guide. I grew to call Anh a friend and the hug he gave me when we said goodbye indicated to me that he felt the same way. It felt good inside.
It seems impossible at this time for me to think about what I will remember most about my time in Vietnam. My mind is full of so many experiences that have helped me grow so much in such a short period of time. However, when it comes down to it, it is pretty simple. It is the people.
Vietnam is a beautiful and special country but it is the people that I will remember the most. There was Twuy, the woman and her son that befriended me at the Internet shop in Hoi An, Mimi in Hue and the woman on the boat in Halong Bay. There was Quien and Ly and a host of others in Saigon including my cyclo driver. I will remember the smiling children on the side of the road outside of the floating fishing village we visited and will not soon forget the smile and wicked laugh of the “mad monk” in Dalat.
There is one unified Vietnam but there are two very different regions within this country. There is the North and the vastly different South. Regardless, the people throughout the country are extremely hard working. They do an excellent job of farming every portion of land that hints at having any fertility whatsoever and they do it proudly.
Vietnam is a poor country that was held back due to the fact that it was caught in the middle of a capitalist – communist show of strength by superpower countries that had no real concern for the welfare of the country or its people. Whether it was France, the United States, the Soviet Union or China, none of these countries had any real concern for Vietnam or its people. Their interests in the region at that time simply happened to coincide perfectly with finding a nation that was divided and ripe to be used as a tool to propagate their views. They all used Vietnam and they will always be indebted to it in some way.
When I left for my trip to Vietnam, I didn’t know what to expect or whether I would like or understand the things I would see and experience. Now as I prepare to depart back to my home, I look forward to returning some day to recapture past memories but mostly to see the changes this welcoming and rapidly evolving country will undoubtedly continue to undergo.
I will never forget my first trip to Asia, and it will not be my last. I almost feel like someone has dissected my brain, shaken it really hard and placed it back inside my head. The pictures of people working in rice fields with water buffalos or using the street for every conceivable type of business will remain vivid and will hopefully never fade. They are engrained in my memory. Driving through the country allowed me to see things I never would have witnessed if I flew or took trains. I learned much from my travel companions, and as a result, I can now truly say that I have friends to visit in the ‘Land Down Under’.
I definitely learned a thing or two about life from 75 year old Sebastian and 79 year old Claire. I hope to follow the script they provided me with when I am older and retired some day. People assume that you can’t do things but in reality you can do anything you want. It is all about your perspective.
Live it. Enjoy it. See the world. Don’t wait to die.
I will use what I have learned from them in my life. I don’t have a choice because that is the only way that I know how to live. The smiling faces of the Vietnamese and the contentment they have are another life lesson that I will take with me.
Be happy with what you have instead of always focusing on what you think you need.
And smile because you are alive.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Facing the Dragon - Chapter 17
I wake up this morning refreshed, but also a bit depressed. It isn’t the disturbing images from last night, but the reality that this is my last full day in Vietnam. After 16 days, I have grown quite used to everything about this place. Whether it be the people and their incessant questions, the rice I eat 3 times a day, or the unrelenting heat, none of it seems that strange anymore. While part of me is ready to get back to the familiar surroundings of my apartment in Amsterdam, the reality is I have become so engrossed in the culture around me that I am still yearning for more.
During our early morning drive back to Hanoi, I experience one more monsoon type rainstorm for my memory. Seeing the rain come down and the people operate, almost uninterrupted by the storm, is strangely refreshing. Like most of my days in Vietnam, I expect my last one in Hanoi to be pleasant, fascinating and hectic at the same time. Knowing that tomorrow at this time I will be aboard a plane which will take me far away, I plan to savor every moment that I spend walking around Hanoi today.
As with each day in most of our lives, frustration has a tendency to set in at some point. Today, it is related to my poor cash management and impulsive spending. After buying a beautiful handmade wooden box depicting scenes of Vietnamese culture for 25 USD, my pockets are empty. I planned to use my remaining dong notes on dinner this evening, not a decorative box. This means that I will need to make one more trip to the ATM. After 2 hours of walking and looking for an ATM that will accept my card, I arrive back in a place I know well; the promenade surrounding Hoan Kiem Lake. I know that this ATM will accept my card because I have used it before. However, there is a sign posted on the machine stating that it will be inoperable for the next 30 minutes for scheduled maintenance. Annoyed, I attempt to take this inconvenience in stride. I sit down on a bench overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake and relax; there aren’t many more beautiful places in the city to absorb your surroundings. As I sit and wait, I am approached by a Hanoi college student who strikes up a conversation with me in the hopes of practicing his English. After 10 minutes, our conversation is interrupted by a loud and angry French man who has apparently decided that making conversation and relaxing by the lake until the ATM is open for business is not on his agenda. He refuses to accept the fact that ‘scheduled maintenance’ means ‘scheduled maintenance’ and not one more transaction. Instead, he tries to force his will. As he futilely attempts to jam his card into the non functioning machine, he nearly gets physical with the stunned bank employee and the guard eventually has to come over to warn the man to stop his behavior. Realizing that he may have crossed the line, he finally walks away to the approval of the many bystanders who witness the altercation. I would have liked to see the guard give the man a shove as incidents like these give every Westerner a bad name.
On my way back to the hotel, I get one last glimpse of the Opera House and Hilton Hotel, which fit together much like a glass of wine and savory piece of cheese. After resting for a bit in my room, I head down to the hotel lobby to meet my travel companions for one last meal together. Tonight, we are heading to Hanoi’s French quarter for dinner.
We have one last wonderful meal together at a romantic French bistro named the Au Lac Café. The experiences we have shared have taken us from being complete strangers to the point where we feel comfortable sharing our inner thoughts on sometimes challenging and controversial subjects. We are all travelers and we have learned from each other and grown as individuals based on our interactions and the experiences we have shared. There is a certain mindset of those who have a passion to travel that makes them, in some cases, one in the same. They are junkies for experiences and culture. When they are able to unleash their passion for travel with others who also get excited about the thought of walking through a market or visiting a hidden temple, the world becomes a much smaller and more manageable place. Distant, fantasy lands like Timbuktu no longer seem to be unattainable. Places like Sri Lanka and Tierra Del Fuego which represent the corners of the world don’t seem to be a galaxy away. My head is full of ideas and places that I want to visit while I still have legs that move and eyes and a mind that can appreciate the world around me. Traveling helps keep a body young and the mind open to experiences that are just waiting to be had.
During our early morning drive back to Hanoi, I experience one more monsoon type rainstorm for my memory. Seeing the rain come down and the people operate, almost uninterrupted by the storm, is strangely refreshing. Like most of my days in Vietnam, I expect my last one in Hanoi to be pleasant, fascinating and hectic at the same time. Knowing that tomorrow at this time I will be aboard a plane which will take me far away, I plan to savor every moment that I spend walking around Hanoi today.
As with each day in most of our lives, frustration has a tendency to set in at some point. Today, it is related to my poor cash management and impulsive spending. After buying a beautiful handmade wooden box depicting scenes of Vietnamese culture for 25 USD, my pockets are empty. I planned to use my remaining dong notes on dinner this evening, not a decorative box. This means that I will need to make one more trip to the ATM. After 2 hours of walking and looking for an ATM that will accept my card, I arrive back in a place I know well; the promenade surrounding Hoan Kiem Lake. I know that this ATM will accept my card because I have used it before. However, there is a sign posted on the machine stating that it will be inoperable for the next 30 minutes for scheduled maintenance. Annoyed, I attempt to take this inconvenience in stride. I sit down on a bench overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake and relax; there aren’t many more beautiful places in the city to absorb your surroundings. As I sit and wait, I am approached by a Hanoi college student who strikes up a conversation with me in the hopes of practicing his English. After 10 minutes, our conversation is interrupted by a loud and angry French man who has apparently decided that making conversation and relaxing by the lake until the ATM is open for business is not on his agenda. He refuses to accept the fact that ‘scheduled maintenance’ means ‘scheduled maintenance’ and not one more transaction. Instead, he tries to force his will. As he futilely attempts to jam his card into the non functioning machine, he nearly gets physical with the stunned bank employee and the guard eventually has to come over to warn the man to stop his behavior. Realizing that he may have crossed the line, he finally walks away to the approval of the many bystanders who witness the altercation. I would have liked to see the guard give the man a shove as incidents like these give every Westerner a bad name.
On my way back to the hotel, I get one last glimpse of the Opera House and Hilton Hotel, which fit together much like a glass of wine and savory piece of cheese. After resting for a bit in my room, I head down to the hotel lobby to meet my travel companions for one last meal together. Tonight, we are heading to Hanoi’s French quarter for dinner.
We have one last wonderful meal together at a romantic French bistro named the Au Lac Café. The experiences we have shared have taken us from being complete strangers to the point where we feel comfortable sharing our inner thoughts on sometimes challenging and controversial subjects. We are all travelers and we have learned from each other and grown as individuals based on our interactions and the experiences we have shared. There is a certain mindset of those who have a passion to travel that makes them, in some cases, one in the same. They are junkies for experiences and culture. When they are able to unleash their passion for travel with others who also get excited about the thought of walking through a market or visiting a hidden temple, the world becomes a much smaller and more manageable place. Distant, fantasy lands like Timbuktu no longer seem to be unattainable. Places like Sri Lanka and Tierra Del Fuego which represent the corners of the world don’t seem to be a galaxy away. My head is full of ideas and places that I want to visit while I still have legs that move and eyes and a mind that can appreciate the world around me. Traveling helps keep a body young and the mind open to experiences that are just waiting to be had.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Facing the Dragon - Chapter 16
My wake up time this morning felt even earlier than the numbers 5:30 that stared at me from the portable alarm clock sitting on the night stand next to my bed. As excited as I am about another scenic drive to Halong Bay, I wouldn’t object to another hour of sleep.
Making our way out of Hanoi, the highlands surrounding us on every side make for a lot of head turning. The well maintained roads also make for a much quicker and more relaxing ride than the bumpy ones I have grown accustomed too. If the state of the roads we are driving on was as bad as those in the South of the country, this trip would probably take us at least double the two and a half hours it has taken us to get to Halong Bay this morning. Arriving in Halong Bay, I am pleasantly surprised by our accommodations. They are a bit more luxurious than usual as we have a romantic villa with wonderful views of the Gulf of Tonkin.
We have 30 minutes to unpack and get settled before we are off and running again. However, this time our mode of transportation will be a boat since the sea is the only vantage point from which we will be able to truly appreciate and realize the beauty of the mostly forsaken and unquestionably gorgeous Gulf of Tonkin.
It is easy to see why people are drawn to Halong Bay. The scenery and environment feels mystical. The channels have a feeling of secrecy and if you are fortunate enough to know of them, you will then witness thousands of limestone islands that jet out of the sea as you meander along on your vessel. These islands represent the beauty that only Mother Nature can deliver and she does so emphatically. Island after island, there are a myriad of different shapes that grasp the gaze of the passerby and refuse to let it go. You cannot design anything this stunning. It just is. Halong Bay is sometimes referred to as the 8th wonder of the world and it is easy to understand why it earns that designation. I can only say that the beauty I have encountered here has helped to bring me closer to, and more at peace with, nature.
During our trip on the gulf, we make stops to climb through a cave located inside one of the islands and also take time to enjoy the warm waters of the Gulf of Tonkin at a small beach off of one of the larger islands. It feels nice to linger in the water and relax with the other visitors to this area. The beautiful surroundings make it easy to understand why Regis Wargnier chose this setting as the backdrop for his film, Indochine.
For lunch, we have a wonderful seafood buffet on board highlighted by fresh squid, fish and shrimp along with rice and vegetables. I am full and satisfied as I sit back and enjoy the ride back into shore. During the ride, I have a nice conversation with the girl on board who cooked us lunch and who is also attempting to sell us some homemade jewelry that I presume she made. I buy a black coral ring from her and enjoy talking to her. Her name is Dung. She is a 28 year old woman from Halong City and she is very interested to find out about my life and career in the United States. Dung tells me that she is learning English and that she works on the boats in addition to helping her family farm the land that they own.
After a prolonged rest in our villa, we head into Halong City for an evening seafood meal. Eating anything else in this area would be almost criminal. I have crab soup and sweet and sour shrimp. Most of the restaurants in this area are filled with tourists, which results in an influx of beggars. Despite what I have seen and experienced in other parts of the country, some of the things I see leave me a bit unsettled.
One man that I give some money too is missing both an arm and a leg. I also see a young teenage boy pull a horribly disfigured woman, possibly his mother, through the streets on a cart in the hopes of earning a few dong notes. Both of her arms and legs are disfigured to the point that it would be impossible for her to walk or stand up on her own. I also see a girl, who is probably no more than 5 years old, with a baby girl on her back. The baby looks to be seriously ill. I look into the baby’s eyes and can sense the gravity of the situation. I feel helpless as all I can do is hand these people a few dong notes before moving on.
In a place like Halong Bay that is amid so much natural beauty, it is ironic but fitting that my last images of this place are those of the poor, disfigured and destitute. All things have their place in this world and in no instance is something absolutely good or bad or beautiful or ugly. There are no absolutes. There is only reality.
Making our way out of Hanoi, the highlands surrounding us on every side make for a lot of head turning. The well maintained roads also make for a much quicker and more relaxing ride than the bumpy ones I have grown accustomed too. If the state of the roads we are driving on was as bad as those in the South of the country, this trip would probably take us at least double the two and a half hours it has taken us to get to Halong Bay this morning. Arriving in Halong Bay, I am pleasantly surprised by our accommodations. They are a bit more luxurious than usual as we have a romantic villa with wonderful views of the Gulf of Tonkin.
We have 30 minutes to unpack and get settled before we are off and running again. However, this time our mode of transportation will be a boat since the sea is the only vantage point from which we will be able to truly appreciate and realize the beauty of the mostly forsaken and unquestionably gorgeous Gulf of Tonkin.
It is easy to see why people are drawn to Halong Bay. The scenery and environment feels mystical. The channels have a feeling of secrecy and if you are fortunate enough to know of them, you will then witness thousands of limestone islands that jet out of the sea as you meander along on your vessel. These islands represent the beauty that only Mother Nature can deliver and she does so emphatically. Island after island, there are a myriad of different shapes that grasp the gaze of the passerby and refuse to let it go. You cannot design anything this stunning. It just is. Halong Bay is sometimes referred to as the 8th wonder of the world and it is easy to understand why it earns that designation. I can only say that the beauty I have encountered here has helped to bring me closer to, and more at peace with, nature.
During our trip on the gulf, we make stops to climb through a cave located inside one of the islands and also take time to enjoy the warm waters of the Gulf of Tonkin at a small beach off of one of the larger islands. It feels nice to linger in the water and relax with the other visitors to this area. The beautiful surroundings make it easy to understand why Regis Wargnier chose this setting as the backdrop for his film, Indochine.
For lunch, we have a wonderful seafood buffet on board highlighted by fresh squid, fish and shrimp along with rice and vegetables. I am full and satisfied as I sit back and enjoy the ride back into shore. During the ride, I have a nice conversation with the girl on board who cooked us lunch and who is also attempting to sell us some homemade jewelry that I presume she made. I buy a black coral ring from her and enjoy talking to her. Her name is Dung. She is a 28 year old woman from Halong City and she is very interested to find out about my life and career in the United States. Dung tells me that she is learning English and that she works on the boats in addition to helping her family farm the land that they own.
After a prolonged rest in our villa, we head into Halong City for an evening seafood meal. Eating anything else in this area would be almost criminal. I have crab soup and sweet and sour shrimp. Most of the restaurants in this area are filled with tourists, which results in an influx of beggars. Despite what I have seen and experienced in other parts of the country, some of the things I see leave me a bit unsettled.
One man that I give some money too is missing both an arm and a leg. I also see a young teenage boy pull a horribly disfigured woman, possibly his mother, through the streets on a cart in the hopes of earning a few dong notes. Both of her arms and legs are disfigured to the point that it would be impossible for her to walk or stand up on her own. I also see a girl, who is probably no more than 5 years old, with a baby girl on her back. The baby looks to be seriously ill. I look into the baby’s eyes and can sense the gravity of the situation. I feel helpless as all I can do is hand these people a few dong notes before moving on.
In a place like Halong Bay that is amid so much natural beauty, it is ironic but fitting that my last images of this place are those of the poor, disfigured and destitute. All things have their place in this world and in no instance is something absolutely good or bad or beautiful or ugly. There are no absolutes. There is only reality.
Facing the Dragon - Chapter 15
Hanoi and Ho Chi Mihn City may be rival cities, but they are also very different ones at that. This is becoming apparent to me the more I see of Hanoi. Based on my understanding of the history of Vietnam, I can’t say that this is unexpected but it is eye opening nonetheless. While the country has gone through the process of unification, it would be foolish to claim that there is solidarity throughout the country based on what I’ve seen.
This day begins with a trip to Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum. This is one of the most sacred sites in all of Vietnam. The line of people waiting to visit Uncle Ho, as he is often referred to, is amazing. For some reason, the foreign tourists are allowed to move immediately to the front of the long line of Vietnamese people waiting to see Uncle Ho. I feel uncomfortable as I am escorted to the front of the line but also feel that I have no choice but to graciously accept this gesture. Part of the reason for the long lines is that in addition to Ho Chi Mihn being a national hero, it is also some sort of patronage for every Vietnamese person to visit Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum at some point during their lifetime.
The mausoleum is located in Ba Dinh Square, which is the nation’s ceremonial epicenter. This square has a long and significant history. Ho Chi Mihn read the Declaration of Independence to 500,000 people here on September 2, 1945 and it is here that independence is commemorated each National Day with military parades. The west side of Ba Dinh Square is dominated by massive, grey concrete buildings that exhibit typical Communist architectural styles. Everything looks perfectly symmetrical and imposing. The perfection almost makes one wonder if the person who designed these buildings was overly anal or suffers from severe obsessive compulsive disorder. While these buildings are in some way creative, it is hard to pick that up from looking at them. They are impressive due to their mass and foreboding presence and for the fact that they were designed to be built a specific way. The people who constructed them did not deviate from the plans that were provided to them. These buildings reflect the Communist manifesto - the government makes the decisions and issues the orders and the people follow them for the greater good of all.
In the tradition of all great communist leaders, Ho Chi Mihn’s body was embalmed in 1969 upon his passing, although it was not put on public display until 1975. I find it hard not to respect Ho Chi Mihn. He went to great lengths to bring independence to his country. This included enduring countless hardships, many years in exile, and imprisonment based on his beliefs. I have never seen an embalmed body but I must admit that Ho Chi Mihn looks very good after 30 plus years since his passing. I guess the yearly upkeep is working. The atmosphere surrounding the mausoleum is more holy than somber. I feel like I am paying my respects to a revered martyr or saint who deserves the admiration of each and every person who visits the place where they now rest. I am impressed by the devotion of the many people who travel from far away and wait in long lines to show their admiration for the man who brought independence to their country. Vietnam fought long and hard against many enemies to gain their independence and Ho Chi Mihn will always be remembered for his pivotal role in that movement. It is rare to see this kind of devotion at home in my own country.
Exiting the mausoleum, we walk out into Ba Dinh Square. I feel like an ant amidst a wall of concrete. This square is massive, at least the size of two 100 yard American football fields. I am not sure that public squares of this size and scale even exist in the United States. In terms of the size of this square, I am reminded of the Great Square in Brussels and the magnificent Piazza Navona in Rome. In terms of style, the only thing that comes to mind is the massive square in central Munich that I walked through many years ago and which the Nazi’s marched though during WWII. Ba Dinh Square itself is populated with numerous government buildings with the National Assembly Hall standing prominently at one end of the square.
Eventually we make our way out of Ba Dinh Square and move onto the Presidential Palace. This beautiful pastille yellow building built in French style with sweeping stairways, louvered shutters and ornate wrought iron gates was built in 1901. Given the grandeur of this gorgeous building, it is only fitting that it is currently used to receive visiting heads of state. Before arriving in Hanoi, I never would have expected to see such a beautiful building in this city. This building is as impressive as any I have seen in some time.
From the Presidential Palace, we make our way to and through Ho Chi Mihn’s rather modest quarters. As most people’s home says something about them, this is also the case with Ho. Being the leader and hero of a large country, I expected a massive, jaw dropping home. This is not the case though as Ho Chi Mihn’s home was built in traditional stilt house style. It is nice but is not overwhelming and quite modest. I am impressed for those reasons.
Moving on back through the crowds of tourists waiting to enter Ho’s mausoleum, we are now headed in the direction of Vietnam’s principal Confucian sanctuary and its historical center of learning, the Temple of Literature. This temple’s ground plan is modeled after Confucius’s birthplace in Qufu, China and consists of a succession of 5 walled courtyards. With manicured gardens that would make any gardener - including my father - cry, the numerous gates, halls and sanctuaries in this temple make for an ideal education and learning environment. The temple’s most valuable relics are in the form of 82 stone stelae, or gravestones, that are mounted on concrete tortoises. They are mounted on tortoises due to the significance the tortoise symbol holds in Vietnamese culture - the tortoise is believed to live ten thousand years and is the symbol of longevity and perfection. On these stelae, biographical details of successful candidates who passed the exam to become a mandarin between the years 1442 and 1779 are recorded. Becoming a mandarin is an incredibly difficult achievement and an honor that is more or less unsurpassed in Vietnam. Only 2313 mandarins have been allowed entry to the civil service over the span of 713 years.
Exiting the Temple of Literature, I take advantage of one final opportunity to let my eyes feast on the magnificent, aesthetically pleasing gardens and courtyards. They are unsurpassed in the painstaking attention that has obviously been paid to their maintenance. I have been fortunate enough to see some wonderful botanical areas during my travels. Particularly, the Luxembourg and Jardin Tulierres in Paris, Frognerpark in Oslo and the Botanical Gardens in Sydney come to mind. However, as beautiful and tranquil as those parks are, the Temple of Literature surpasses them all.
With lunch on the horizon, we make one last stop at the Hoa Lo Prison. The Hoa Lo Prison is better known to some as the “Hanoi Hilton” as it was nicknamed by American POWs. This is the prison where former Republican presidential candidate and Senator John McCain was held during his captivity. The history represented today is mostly related to the pre-1954 colonial period when the French incarcerated many nationalist leaders here. This prison was built by the French and there are many French weapons of torture on display here, including the frequently used French guillotine. One of the unique and cruel torture procedures on display involves wrapping a victim in a bag and tickling him or her until they either passed out or vomited blood. The French were unbelievably brutal here. It is amazing that they were still using some of the cruel and primitive torture methods that are on display in the 1950’s.
Hearing a grumble in my stomach, I am off in the direction of the Old Quarter on a bit of hunger driven mission. My quest is to find a restaurant serving the Hanoi delicacy Bun Cha. Luck strikes quickly after 10 minutes or so when smells emanating from a sidewalk grill topped with pork burgers lure me into this “chef’s” local establishment. Upon taking a seat on a very small bench and noticing the friendly stares from the crowd, it becomes quite obvious to me that I am the only foreigner in the restaurant. After getting settled, I tell my server that I would like an order of Bun Cha. She looks at me attentively, seemingly understanding what I am saying and nods to confirm her understanding. Hoping that my guidebook doesn’t lead me astray based on their description of the dish I just ordered, I sit and wait for 10 minutes before my server arrives with a plate of greens and a bowl of rice noodles. A couple moments later she brings the last component to Bun Cha, a bowl of pork burgers. The pork burgers are floating atop a sizzling bowl of broth along with green vegetables that look like cucumbers. I have no idea how I am supposed to put this all together. I start by combining a bit of the greens, noodles, pork burgers and sauce together on a corner of the plate that the greens were served on. I then use my chop sticks to gather as much of this combination of different elements together that will fit between my chopsticks and force it into my mouth. The sauce that the pork burgers were served in is sweet and tangy and succulent. In addition, the green vegetable I was wondering about is refreshing and crisp and has much more flavor than I would expect from a cucumber. I would later find out from one of my travel companions that the vegetable I was eating was actually green papaya. After about 10 minutes of enjoying my lunch and watching others do the same, I realize that I am the only person in the restaurant eating my Bun Cha from a pile on the corner of their plate. Everything is supposed to be combined in the bowl, not on the plate. I guess the way I had been assembling things never felt right in the first place. I quickly transfer the pile of goodies on my plate into the bowl and continue to enjoy my wonderful lunch. This dining experience is one of my best in Vietnam. Not only is the food wonderful, but I feel a real sense of satisfaction knowing that I am the only non local in the restaurant. As a traveler, experiences like these tell me that I am doing something right. In addition, they help me to understand on a much deeper level, that it is for experiences like these that I am willing to travel to the ends of the world.
Getting completely lost in the Old Quarter is the next item on my agenda. This well preserved ancient merchant’s quarter is one of Hanoi’s most charming areas. It has a romantic aura to it with its tree lined streets that are populated with all types of different shops and restaurants. Many people are riding along on their bicycles taking in the ambience of this area. The wide foot paths offer plenty of space to walk side by side and chat with your friend or loved one. Without much of a plan, I meander about the streets of the Old Quarter, albeit alone. Eventually, my relaxing stroll is met with a bit of resistance in the form of a rainstorm. There is nothing I can do to shield myself from the rain as there was no indication from the skies above that they were about to erupt in such a fashion. Fortunately, I do have my umbrella and decide that my best course of action is to continue walking. I’m actually glad I encountered the storm as the raindrops look beautiful as they drip from the branches of the enormous trees.
It appears that I share the local’s philosophy of not allowing a brief shower to impede their plans as they continue to make their journeys, unfettered by the storm. As I continue on, I walk in and out of many different shops. In some, traditional handicrafts and ornate chopsticks are for sale while in others, I find cheap CD’s and DVD’s. I snap photos of the buildings, taking particular notice of the elaborate plaster work and Art Deco style that was popular during the French colonial period and is still evident today. I pass through the Dong Xuan market and also see the area’s oldest place of worship, the Bach Ma Temple. Somehow, I manage to find my way to a tiny, hidden mosque that serves Hanoi’s very small population of 100 or so Muslims. As I approach the temple, a few smiling and disillusioned gentleman gesture in my direction as they pass an opium pipe back and forth between them. The Bach Ma Temple was founded in the ninth century and has a pair of charismatic, red-cloaked guardians in front of the altar who flaunt a strangely impressive array of lacquered gold dentures. I spend a few silent moments here contemplating my last few hours. Getting lost in this charming slice of Hanoi has been a perfect way to spend an afternoon.
Making my way out of the Old Quarter, I find myself staring at the alluring waters of Hoan Kiem Lake. The water is the only quaint part of this area as the environment around the lake is quite active. Despite all of the activity though, there is a relaxing feel to this pleasant area in the middle of Hanoi. As I stroll around Hoan Kiem Lake, it is hard not to be impressed by the beautiful gardens and walking paths that make up the wide border that surrounds the entire lake. The walkers, joggers and tai chi enthusiasts at work and play could almost fool me into thinking that I in a wealthy city in a Western country. The gardens are pristine and impeccably maintained.
I can’t imagine seeing something like this in Ho Chi Mihn City. In addition to it not fitting in Saigon, the government definitely wouldn’t invest the amount of money that would be required to make something look so perfect, at least not in the South of the country. Feeling lost amid the beauty of this area, the reality that I am in Vietnam and not in San Francisco or Paris becomes apparent when I encounter a few of the many vendors that work this area. It is only a matter of time before I am approached by one person and then another and then another. Reality smacks me in the face as I realize that this area is only potentially relaxing for a tourist. While there are so many nice spots to throw a blanket down, sprawl out on your stomach or back and crack open a book, it appears that the only people able to actually engage in this type of activity are locals that are able to avoid the relentless harem of vendors. Off in the distance, I notice some familiar faces. It is Sebastian and Claire. I quickly walk in their direction, away from at least some of the hawkers.
It appears that they are being hotly pursued by a 20ish looking girl who is attempting to sell Sebastian a green Viet Cong hat. She is quite persistent as she continues to follow behind an obviously annoyed Sebastian. Claire just plods along next to Sebastian, chuckling to himself, while Seby does his best to play along. He jokes with the young girl and even models the hat for her at one point. However, after 20 minutes of her incessant attempts to get Sebastian to buy the hat, frustration sets in and Sebastian decides that he has had enough. She is refusing to take ‘No’ for an answer and Sebastian has no intention of buying the hat. Fortunately for everyone, she finally accepts his rejection and decides to move on and look for another target. The whole situation was pretty amusing though, particularly when the girl kept placing the hat on Sebastian’s head and he kept taking it off and handing it back to her.
Walking along together now with Sebastian and Claire, I notice a few kids to my right. I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of gum I purchased earlier in the day. I have about 10 sticks of gum left and figure that I will give some to the three or four kids to my right. It seems like a nice gesture that shouldn’t create much of a scene. What a horrible assessment of the situation that was! I am quickly surrounded by 15 aggressive youths who nearly rip the gum out of my hand until it is gone, and then stand around waiting for me to pull out more. I become tense as I don’t have any more gum and really don’t know how to communicate this information to the group of kids surrounding me. I do what first comes to mind and pull my pockets out of my shorts to show that they are empty and shrug my shoulders, mouthing the words sorry. As Sebastian and Claire watch on and wait for me, they notice my dilemma and motion towards the Hotel Sofitel Metropole that they begin to walk towards. I say goodbye to the group of youths, ignoring their pleas, and follow my friends into the grandest of Hanoi’s hotels. This is a very expensive and exclusive hotel as evidenced by the beautiful bar where we enjoy a couple of 3 dollar beers. The woman behind the bar is every bit as exclusive as the venue she is serving drinks in. I have a tough time keeping my eyes off of her. I am finding many of the women in the North, while still slender, to be more well-rounded and voluptuous than the women in the South. I have been having trouble putting my finger on the reason why but my guess is that it has something to do with the North being wealthier than the South, resulting in a more nutritious and healthy diet.
This evening we have a mediocre, unmemorable dinner before attending a performance at the Water Puppets Theatre. Fortunately, the performance is much better than the meal. Vietnamese Water Puppet shows have garnered world wide acclaim based on the touring shows that visit many countries throughout the world. During these shows, which are choreographed to the sounds of live traditional Vietnamese music, water puppets swim, dance, and act out a variety of Vietnamese rituals and scenes from daily life. Anyone with even a passing interest in Vietnamese culture would at least find this interesting, while real enthusiasts would run to see it again. I enjoy the show very much. The acts imitating the daily activities typical to Vietnam's rural areas really strike home after what I have seen over the last two weeks. Given the importance of rice and fishing to Vietnamese culture, I am especially intrigued by the rice farming and fishing scenes that are so vividly portrayed.
On the way back from the theater to the hotel, I walk past two buildings that clamor for my attention. My senses hear their pleas, so I stop in my tracks and give them my undivided adoration. The Hanoi Opera House is a remarkable building. Built in stunning French style, it is illuminated under flood lights and is a feast for the eye’s of anyone who appreciates architecture. I snap numerous photographs of the building from different angles even though it is doubtful that the pictures will clearly develop at this time of the evening. Directly next to the Opera House is the Hanoi Hilton which is another fine architectural gem. It was built to match the Opera House and is nearly as impressive. The building’s exterior is as aesthetically pleasing as any hotel I can remember seeing.
We continue on towards our hotel, but stop at a quaint, inviting café that lures us inside. Well lit and screaming France, this Parisian like cafe has all the wonderful pastries and drinks you would expect if you were sitting on a relaxed street in Paris, Reims or Montreal. We enjoy pastries, coffees and glasses of desert wine, perfectly capping a wonderful evening.
Exiting the café, we make our way back towards the hotel. As I walk along, my thoughts once again turn to Hanoi and Saigon and the vast differences between Northern and Southern Vietnam. Visiting both cities in such a short timeframe, it is as if I have visited 2 different worlds within the same country. While everyone seems to be trying to make a buck in the South and the people seem willing to go to incredible lengths to make a sale, I can’t say the same is true in the North. The people still try hard to sell things but they are sometimes willing to take a ‘No’ for a ‘No’. The impressive legacy left by the French, in addition to the ample funds spent by the government here, make Hanoi a city to remember. From the roads in and out of the city to the parks and infrastructure within, Hanoi feels much like a Western European city. My initial impression of Hanoi is that it is attempting to scream out to the visitor, “We are the North and we are different than the South. Our city is more developed than Saigon and we are more affluent.” Whether this is true, I don’t know; but I do believe that the investment in Hanoi at the expense of Ho Chi Mihn City is a form of punishment that still emanates from the Vietnam War. It is a statement from the stronghold in the North that they won the war and a remembrance to the South that they lost.
Whether the investment in Hanoi is a form of a sanction or is simply an effort to beautify a country’s capital city, it does strike me as strange that the differences between these 2 prominent cities are so vast. To truly appreciate the strong Vietnamese culture, one needs to visit Hanoi and Saigon. While I have enjoyed both cities, I truly believe that the heartbeat of the country lies in the South. It is funny to me that the Vietnamese people deny a divide between the North and the South when that divide is so obvious. I guess they probably realize that as the gap in that divide becomes smaller and smaller, the country overall will benefit.
This day begins with a trip to Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum. This is one of the most sacred sites in all of Vietnam. The line of people waiting to visit Uncle Ho, as he is often referred to, is amazing. For some reason, the foreign tourists are allowed to move immediately to the front of the long line of Vietnamese people waiting to see Uncle Ho. I feel uncomfortable as I am escorted to the front of the line but also feel that I have no choice but to graciously accept this gesture. Part of the reason for the long lines is that in addition to Ho Chi Mihn being a national hero, it is also some sort of patronage for every Vietnamese person to visit Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum at some point during their lifetime.
The mausoleum is located in Ba Dinh Square, which is the nation’s ceremonial epicenter. This square has a long and significant history. Ho Chi Mihn read the Declaration of Independence to 500,000 people here on September 2, 1945 and it is here that independence is commemorated each National Day with military parades. The west side of Ba Dinh Square is dominated by massive, grey concrete buildings that exhibit typical Communist architectural styles. Everything looks perfectly symmetrical and imposing. The perfection almost makes one wonder if the person who designed these buildings was overly anal or suffers from severe obsessive compulsive disorder. While these buildings are in some way creative, it is hard to pick that up from looking at them. They are impressive due to their mass and foreboding presence and for the fact that they were designed to be built a specific way. The people who constructed them did not deviate from the plans that were provided to them. These buildings reflect the Communist manifesto - the government makes the decisions and issues the orders and the people follow them for the greater good of all.
In the tradition of all great communist leaders, Ho Chi Mihn’s body was embalmed in 1969 upon his passing, although it was not put on public display until 1975. I find it hard not to respect Ho Chi Mihn. He went to great lengths to bring independence to his country. This included enduring countless hardships, many years in exile, and imprisonment based on his beliefs. I have never seen an embalmed body but I must admit that Ho Chi Mihn looks very good after 30 plus years since his passing. I guess the yearly upkeep is working. The atmosphere surrounding the mausoleum is more holy than somber. I feel like I am paying my respects to a revered martyr or saint who deserves the admiration of each and every person who visits the place where they now rest. I am impressed by the devotion of the many people who travel from far away and wait in long lines to show their admiration for the man who brought independence to their country. Vietnam fought long and hard against many enemies to gain their independence and Ho Chi Mihn will always be remembered for his pivotal role in that movement. It is rare to see this kind of devotion at home in my own country.
Exiting the mausoleum, we walk out into Ba Dinh Square. I feel like an ant amidst a wall of concrete. This square is massive, at least the size of two 100 yard American football fields. I am not sure that public squares of this size and scale even exist in the United States. In terms of the size of this square, I am reminded of the Great Square in Brussels and the magnificent Piazza Navona in Rome. In terms of style, the only thing that comes to mind is the massive square in central Munich that I walked through many years ago and which the Nazi’s marched though during WWII. Ba Dinh Square itself is populated with numerous government buildings with the National Assembly Hall standing prominently at one end of the square.
Eventually we make our way out of Ba Dinh Square and move onto the Presidential Palace. This beautiful pastille yellow building built in French style with sweeping stairways, louvered shutters and ornate wrought iron gates was built in 1901. Given the grandeur of this gorgeous building, it is only fitting that it is currently used to receive visiting heads of state. Before arriving in Hanoi, I never would have expected to see such a beautiful building in this city. This building is as impressive as any I have seen in some time.
From the Presidential Palace, we make our way to and through Ho Chi Mihn’s rather modest quarters. As most people’s home says something about them, this is also the case with Ho. Being the leader and hero of a large country, I expected a massive, jaw dropping home. This is not the case though as Ho Chi Mihn’s home was built in traditional stilt house style. It is nice but is not overwhelming and quite modest. I am impressed for those reasons.
Moving on back through the crowds of tourists waiting to enter Ho’s mausoleum, we are now headed in the direction of Vietnam’s principal Confucian sanctuary and its historical center of learning, the Temple of Literature. This temple’s ground plan is modeled after Confucius’s birthplace in Qufu, China and consists of a succession of 5 walled courtyards. With manicured gardens that would make any gardener - including my father - cry, the numerous gates, halls and sanctuaries in this temple make for an ideal education and learning environment. The temple’s most valuable relics are in the form of 82 stone stelae, or gravestones, that are mounted on concrete tortoises. They are mounted on tortoises due to the significance the tortoise symbol holds in Vietnamese culture - the tortoise is believed to live ten thousand years and is the symbol of longevity and perfection. On these stelae, biographical details of successful candidates who passed the exam to become a mandarin between the years 1442 and 1779 are recorded. Becoming a mandarin is an incredibly difficult achievement and an honor that is more or less unsurpassed in Vietnam. Only 2313 mandarins have been allowed entry to the civil service over the span of 713 years.
Exiting the Temple of Literature, I take advantage of one final opportunity to let my eyes feast on the magnificent, aesthetically pleasing gardens and courtyards. They are unsurpassed in the painstaking attention that has obviously been paid to their maintenance. I have been fortunate enough to see some wonderful botanical areas during my travels. Particularly, the Luxembourg and Jardin Tulierres in Paris, Frognerpark in Oslo and the Botanical Gardens in Sydney come to mind. However, as beautiful and tranquil as those parks are, the Temple of Literature surpasses them all.
With lunch on the horizon, we make one last stop at the Hoa Lo Prison. The Hoa Lo Prison is better known to some as the “Hanoi Hilton” as it was nicknamed by American POWs. This is the prison where former Republican presidential candidate and Senator John McCain was held during his captivity. The history represented today is mostly related to the pre-1954 colonial period when the French incarcerated many nationalist leaders here. This prison was built by the French and there are many French weapons of torture on display here, including the frequently used French guillotine. One of the unique and cruel torture procedures on display involves wrapping a victim in a bag and tickling him or her until they either passed out or vomited blood. The French were unbelievably brutal here. It is amazing that they were still using some of the cruel and primitive torture methods that are on display in the 1950’s.
Hearing a grumble in my stomach, I am off in the direction of the Old Quarter on a bit of hunger driven mission. My quest is to find a restaurant serving the Hanoi delicacy Bun Cha. Luck strikes quickly after 10 minutes or so when smells emanating from a sidewalk grill topped with pork burgers lure me into this “chef’s” local establishment. Upon taking a seat on a very small bench and noticing the friendly stares from the crowd, it becomes quite obvious to me that I am the only foreigner in the restaurant. After getting settled, I tell my server that I would like an order of Bun Cha. She looks at me attentively, seemingly understanding what I am saying and nods to confirm her understanding. Hoping that my guidebook doesn’t lead me astray based on their description of the dish I just ordered, I sit and wait for 10 minutes before my server arrives with a plate of greens and a bowl of rice noodles. A couple moments later she brings the last component to Bun Cha, a bowl of pork burgers. The pork burgers are floating atop a sizzling bowl of broth along with green vegetables that look like cucumbers. I have no idea how I am supposed to put this all together. I start by combining a bit of the greens, noodles, pork burgers and sauce together on a corner of the plate that the greens were served on. I then use my chop sticks to gather as much of this combination of different elements together that will fit between my chopsticks and force it into my mouth. The sauce that the pork burgers were served in is sweet and tangy and succulent. In addition, the green vegetable I was wondering about is refreshing and crisp and has much more flavor than I would expect from a cucumber. I would later find out from one of my travel companions that the vegetable I was eating was actually green papaya. After about 10 minutes of enjoying my lunch and watching others do the same, I realize that I am the only person in the restaurant eating my Bun Cha from a pile on the corner of their plate. Everything is supposed to be combined in the bowl, not on the plate. I guess the way I had been assembling things never felt right in the first place. I quickly transfer the pile of goodies on my plate into the bowl and continue to enjoy my wonderful lunch. This dining experience is one of my best in Vietnam. Not only is the food wonderful, but I feel a real sense of satisfaction knowing that I am the only non local in the restaurant. As a traveler, experiences like these tell me that I am doing something right. In addition, they help me to understand on a much deeper level, that it is for experiences like these that I am willing to travel to the ends of the world.
Getting completely lost in the Old Quarter is the next item on my agenda. This well preserved ancient merchant’s quarter is one of Hanoi’s most charming areas. It has a romantic aura to it with its tree lined streets that are populated with all types of different shops and restaurants. Many people are riding along on their bicycles taking in the ambience of this area. The wide foot paths offer plenty of space to walk side by side and chat with your friend or loved one. Without much of a plan, I meander about the streets of the Old Quarter, albeit alone. Eventually, my relaxing stroll is met with a bit of resistance in the form of a rainstorm. There is nothing I can do to shield myself from the rain as there was no indication from the skies above that they were about to erupt in such a fashion. Fortunately, I do have my umbrella and decide that my best course of action is to continue walking. I’m actually glad I encountered the storm as the raindrops look beautiful as they drip from the branches of the enormous trees.
It appears that I share the local’s philosophy of not allowing a brief shower to impede their plans as they continue to make their journeys, unfettered by the storm. As I continue on, I walk in and out of many different shops. In some, traditional handicrafts and ornate chopsticks are for sale while in others, I find cheap CD’s and DVD’s. I snap photos of the buildings, taking particular notice of the elaborate plaster work and Art Deco style that was popular during the French colonial period and is still evident today. I pass through the Dong Xuan market and also see the area’s oldest place of worship, the Bach Ma Temple. Somehow, I manage to find my way to a tiny, hidden mosque that serves Hanoi’s very small population of 100 or so Muslims. As I approach the temple, a few smiling and disillusioned gentleman gesture in my direction as they pass an opium pipe back and forth between them. The Bach Ma Temple was founded in the ninth century and has a pair of charismatic, red-cloaked guardians in front of the altar who flaunt a strangely impressive array of lacquered gold dentures. I spend a few silent moments here contemplating my last few hours. Getting lost in this charming slice of Hanoi has been a perfect way to spend an afternoon.
Making my way out of the Old Quarter, I find myself staring at the alluring waters of Hoan Kiem Lake. The water is the only quaint part of this area as the environment around the lake is quite active. Despite all of the activity though, there is a relaxing feel to this pleasant area in the middle of Hanoi. As I stroll around Hoan Kiem Lake, it is hard not to be impressed by the beautiful gardens and walking paths that make up the wide border that surrounds the entire lake. The walkers, joggers and tai chi enthusiasts at work and play could almost fool me into thinking that I in a wealthy city in a Western country. The gardens are pristine and impeccably maintained.
I can’t imagine seeing something like this in Ho Chi Mihn City. In addition to it not fitting in Saigon, the government definitely wouldn’t invest the amount of money that would be required to make something look so perfect, at least not in the South of the country. Feeling lost amid the beauty of this area, the reality that I am in Vietnam and not in San Francisco or Paris becomes apparent when I encounter a few of the many vendors that work this area. It is only a matter of time before I am approached by one person and then another and then another. Reality smacks me in the face as I realize that this area is only potentially relaxing for a tourist. While there are so many nice spots to throw a blanket down, sprawl out on your stomach or back and crack open a book, it appears that the only people able to actually engage in this type of activity are locals that are able to avoid the relentless harem of vendors. Off in the distance, I notice some familiar faces. It is Sebastian and Claire. I quickly walk in their direction, away from at least some of the hawkers.
It appears that they are being hotly pursued by a 20ish looking girl who is attempting to sell Sebastian a green Viet Cong hat. She is quite persistent as she continues to follow behind an obviously annoyed Sebastian. Claire just plods along next to Sebastian, chuckling to himself, while Seby does his best to play along. He jokes with the young girl and even models the hat for her at one point. However, after 20 minutes of her incessant attempts to get Sebastian to buy the hat, frustration sets in and Sebastian decides that he has had enough. She is refusing to take ‘No’ for an answer and Sebastian has no intention of buying the hat. Fortunately for everyone, she finally accepts his rejection and decides to move on and look for another target. The whole situation was pretty amusing though, particularly when the girl kept placing the hat on Sebastian’s head and he kept taking it off and handing it back to her.
Walking along together now with Sebastian and Claire, I notice a few kids to my right. I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of gum I purchased earlier in the day. I have about 10 sticks of gum left and figure that I will give some to the three or four kids to my right. It seems like a nice gesture that shouldn’t create much of a scene. What a horrible assessment of the situation that was! I am quickly surrounded by 15 aggressive youths who nearly rip the gum out of my hand until it is gone, and then stand around waiting for me to pull out more. I become tense as I don’t have any more gum and really don’t know how to communicate this information to the group of kids surrounding me. I do what first comes to mind and pull my pockets out of my shorts to show that they are empty and shrug my shoulders, mouthing the words sorry. As Sebastian and Claire watch on and wait for me, they notice my dilemma and motion towards the Hotel Sofitel Metropole that they begin to walk towards. I say goodbye to the group of youths, ignoring their pleas, and follow my friends into the grandest of Hanoi’s hotels. This is a very expensive and exclusive hotel as evidenced by the beautiful bar where we enjoy a couple of 3 dollar beers. The woman behind the bar is every bit as exclusive as the venue she is serving drinks in. I have a tough time keeping my eyes off of her. I am finding many of the women in the North, while still slender, to be more well-rounded and voluptuous than the women in the South. I have been having trouble putting my finger on the reason why but my guess is that it has something to do with the North being wealthier than the South, resulting in a more nutritious and healthy diet.
This evening we have a mediocre, unmemorable dinner before attending a performance at the Water Puppets Theatre. Fortunately, the performance is much better than the meal. Vietnamese Water Puppet shows have garnered world wide acclaim based on the touring shows that visit many countries throughout the world. During these shows, which are choreographed to the sounds of live traditional Vietnamese music, water puppets swim, dance, and act out a variety of Vietnamese rituals and scenes from daily life. Anyone with even a passing interest in Vietnamese culture would at least find this interesting, while real enthusiasts would run to see it again. I enjoy the show very much. The acts imitating the daily activities typical to Vietnam's rural areas really strike home after what I have seen over the last two weeks. Given the importance of rice and fishing to Vietnamese culture, I am especially intrigued by the rice farming and fishing scenes that are so vividly portrayed.
On the way back from the theater to the hotel, I walk past two buildings that clamor for my attention. My senses hear their pleas, so I stop in my tracks and give them my undivided adoration. The Hanoi Opera House is a remarkable building. Built in stunning French style, it is illuminated under flood lights and is a feast for the eye’s of anyone who appreciates architecture. I snap numerous photographs of the building from different angles even though it is doubtful that the pictures will clearly develop at this time of the evening. Directly next to the Opera House is the Hanoi Hilton which is another fine architectural gem. It was built to match the Opera House and is nearly as impressive. The building’s exterior is as aesthetically pleasing as any hotel I can remember seeing.
We continue on towards our hotel, but stop at a quaint, inviting café that lures us inside. Well lit and screaming France, this Parisian like cafe has all the wonderful pastries and drinks you would expect if you were sitting on a relaxed street in Paris, Reims or Montreal. We enjoy pastries, coffees and glasses of desert wine, perfectly capping a wonderful evening.
Exiting the café, we make our way back towards the hotel. As I walk along, my thoughts once again turn to Hanoi and Saigon and the vast differences between Northern and Southern Vietnam. Visiting both cities in such a short timeframe, it is as if I have visited 2 different worlds within the same country. While everyone seems to be trying to make a buck in the South and the people seem willing to go to incredible lengths to make a sale, I can’t say the same is true in the North. The people still try hard to sell things but they are sometimes willing to take a ‘No’ for a ‘No’. The impressive legacy left by the French, in addition to the ample funds spent by the government here, make Hanoi a city to remember. From the roads in and out of the city to the parks and infrastructure within, Hanoi feels much like a Western European city. My initial impression of Hanoi is that it is attempting to scream out to the visitor, “We are the North and we are different than the South. Our city is more developed than Saigon and we are more affluent.” Whether this is true, I don’t know; but I do believe that the investment in Hanoi at the expense of Ho Chi Mihn City is a form of punishment that still emanates from the Vietnam War. It is a statement from the stronghold in the North that they won the war and a remembrance to the South that they lost.
Whether the investment in Hanoi is a form of a sanction or is simply an effort to beautify a country’s capital city, it does strike me as strange that the differences between these 2 prominent cities are so vast. To truly appreciate the strong Vietnamese culture, one needs to visit Hanoi and Saigon. While I have enjoyed both cities, I truly believe that the heartbeat of the country lies in the South. It is funny to me that the Vietnamese people deny a divide between the North and the South when that divide is so obvious. I guess they probably realize that as the gap in that divide becomes smaller and smaller, the country overall will benefit.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Facing the Dragon - Chapter 14
I got a few good sound hours of sleep last evening but not nearly enough. At 5 AM, the noise started and it didn’t stop. There is news blaring out of the speakers. I am not sure why but after conferring with some others, I find out that the government provides news to those people who have no other news outlet. This reminds me of stories I have read about from the former Soviet Union and the sheltering of the people from what is going on in the outside world. I am reminded that I am in a communist country. Soon after the news ends, a woman “formally” wakes us up at 5:15 AM with coffee and breakfast. There is no reason to attempt to sleep any more so I just join in and eat my roll and drink my coffee. I have enjoyed my experience on the train but it has been a long trip and I have read all I can about Hanoi. I am now ready to experience Vietnam’s capital city.
After a couple hours of walking around Hanoi, my first impression of Hanoi is a positive one. Hanoi seems to be more laid back then Saigon. It is also a well maintained city as the streets are tree lined and clean in comparison to Saigon. It is quite obvious that Hanoi, being the capital, has had much more money invested into its infrastructure and into the beautification of the city. This is the case despite the fact that Ho Chi Mihn City is the real economic hub of the country due to its market structure, which is much more free and open.
Tonight, I finally succumbed to eating Western food. I guess I can’t resist forever as it has been nearly 2 weeks since I have had any food of this type. My meal also has Western prices attached to it. I paid 13 USD which is more than I have paid for any meal on this trip to date. I received an enormous portion of food, quickly reminding me why we Westerners carry significantly more weight than the average Vietnamese person. I have a rib meat, onion and jalapeno pepper pizza that is drowned in BBQ sauce. In addition, we split a mass of onion rings that we ordered as an appetizer. The food is pretty good and this is a nice change from the strictly Vietnamese diet I have been adhering to. The restaurant, Al Fresco’s, is run by a 6’8 Australian man whose business seems to be thriving due to tourism. There is not one Vietnamese person in the restaurant. With the high prices, I suspect that this is usually the case. The pizza I managed to nearly finish myself would take care of 3 meals for the average Vietnamese person and would be equivalent cost wise to around 10 Vietnamese meals. I enjoyed my meal, but I also feel like a bit of a trader. No more pizza and onion ring meals on this trip for me, especially when I am surrounded by so much wonderful French inspired Vietnamese food in Hanoi.
It is actually kind of funny how we ended up at Al Fresco’s on this evening. Initially, we were in search of a French/Vietnamese restaurant that is run by employing underprivileged kids, with all proceeds going back into community programs. The restaurant is called Koto Gourmet and it was my idea to try this restaurant. As a result, I pulled out my map and tried to guide us to the restaurant. I did my best despite the fact that navigation and map reading have never been strengths of mine. We walked and walked and eventually ended up in a dead end that was full of nothing but residential homes. We were lost and felt out of place since the typical Vietnamese home has every door and window open, making it very easy for those inside to see everything going on outside. So here we are, 6 tourists standing at a dead end staring at people who are sitting in their homes and trying to focus on the TV in front of them instead of the white people who are standing outside. Feeling as though we were intruding, we contemplated what to do and I eventually attempted to speak to someone who was sitting on their porch. We exchanged very little information as the language barrier proved to be too great. At this point, we decided that our best decision was to abort the mission and find somewhere else to eat. Koto Gourmet sounded wonderful, but it wasn’t going to happen on this evening.
As we walk back to our hotel after dinner and I pass by so many attractive buildings, it is obvious to me that Hanoi’s reputation as a city where the French left a nice legacy is well deserved. Hanoi has a French European feel to it with tree lined streets and many small, intimate cafes that give certain parts of the city a romantic charm.
After a couple hours of walking around Hanoi, my first impression of Hanoi is a positive one. Hanoi seems to be more laid back then Saigon. It is also a well maintained city as the streets are tree lined and clean in comparison to Saigon. It is quite obvious that Hanoi, being the capital, has had much more money invested into its infrastructure and into the beautification of the city. This is the case despite the fact that Ho Chi Mihn City is the real economic hub of the country due to its market structure, which is much more free and open.
Tonight, I finally succumbed to eating Western food. I guess I can’t resist forever as it has been nearly 2 weeks since I have had any food of this type. My meal also has Western prices attached to it. I paid 13 USD which is more than I have paid for any meal on this trip to date. I received an enormous portion of food, quickly reminding me why we Westerners carry significantly more weight than the average Vietnamese person. I have a rib meat, onion and jalapeno pepper pizza that is drowned in BBQ sauce. In addition, we split a mass of onion rings that we ordered as an appetizer. The food is pretty good and this is a nice change from the strictly Vietnamese diet I have been adhering to. The restaurant, Al Fresco’s, is run by a 6’8 Australian man whose business seems to be thriving due to tourism. There is not one Vietnamese person in the restaurant. With the high prices, I suspect that this is usually the case. The pizza I managed to nearly finish myself would take care of 3 meals for the average Vietnamese person and would be equivalent cost wise to around 10 Vietnamese meals. I enjoyed my meal, but I also feel like a bit of a trader. No more pizza and onion ring meals on this trip for me, especially when I am surrounded by so much wonderful French inspired Vietnamese food in Hanoi.
It is actually kind of funny how we ended up at Al Fresco’s on this evening. Initially, we were in search of a French/Vietnamese restaurant that is run by employing underprivileged kids, with all proceeds going back into community programs. The restaurant is called Koto Gourmet and it was my idea to try this restaurant. As a result, I pulled out my map and tried to guide us to the restaurant. I did my best despite the fact that navigation and map reading have never been strengths of mine. We walked and walked and eventually ended up in a dead end that was full of nothing but residential homes. We were lost and felt out of place since the typical Vietnamese home has every door and window open, making it very easy for those inside to see everything going on outside. So here we are, 6 tourists standing at a dead end staring at people who are sitting in their homes and trying to focus on the TV in front of them instead of the white people who are standing outside. Feeling as though we were intruding, we contemplated what to do and I eventually attempted to speak to someone who was sitting on their porch. We exchanged very little information as the language barrier proved to be too great. At this point, we decided that our best decision was to abort the mission and find somewhere else to eat. Koto Gourmet sounded wonderful, but it wasn’t going to happen on this evening.
As we walk back to our hotel after dinner and I pass by so many attractive buildings, it is obvious to me that Hanoi’s reputation as a city where the French left a nice legacy is well deserved. Hanoi has a French European feel to it with tree lined streets and many small, intimate cafes that give certain parts of the city a romantic charm.
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