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.