BootsnAll Travel Network



Ho Ho Ho

The trappings of Christmas can already be seen.  Several stalls in the Old Quarter of Hanoi now stock glittery decorations and a life-sized Santa Claus figure.  For that matter, the Santa Clauses were already coming out when I was in Athens.  It seems the secular Western icons of Christmas just can’t be avoided.

But the more ubiquitous Ho in Vietnam is former leader Ho Chi Minh (1890-1969).  This Ho is credited with uniting Vietnam’s various factions who opposed French colonial rule in 1930, forming the Vietnamese Liberation Army and leading the country in its independence efforts during the years of French and Japanese occupation.  Ho’s image is everywhere.  On billboards.  On banners.  On currency.  Here, the currency is called dong.  “Uncle Ho,” as he is affectionately termed, is on the 1,000 dong note, the 2,000 dong note, the 5,000, the 10,000, the 20,000, the 50,000, the 100,000, etc.  You reach into your pocket and there he is, and in several different colors.

An American dollar is worth about 16,000 dong.  You carry so much dong you feel like you’re playing Monopoly.  And when you make an ATM withdrawal, you take out millions, literally.  Here, every American is a millionaire. 

Daniel and I came to Hanoi, the current capitol of Vietnam, on November 20.  Vietnam was ruled from Hanoi for most of the country’s existence.  The French turned it into the center of Indochina in 1887.  It became the capitol of an independent Vietnam in 1954 with Uncle Ho as president. 

The vendors in Hanoi aren’t as aggressive as the ones in HCMC.  They’re preoccupied with selling their wares to the locals.  The drivers-for-hire are just as aggressive as those in HCMC, however.  You can’t walk six steps without hearing an enthusiastic “hello,” and seeing a driver waving in your direction.  “Moto, moto,” he says, if he’s offering the back seat of his motorcycle, or “taxi, taxi” if he’s got a pedicab or car cab.  A simple “no thanks” does not dissuade him.  His inevitable follow-up question is “where are you going?”  This is more than just a fleeting nuisance.  The distraction of a beckoning driver compounds the treacherousness of crossing the street on foot, which requires complete concentration.  The streets aren’t as wide as they are in HCMC and the buildings aren’t as tall, but the traffic is just as insane.

Hoan Kiem Lake sits in the center of town, with an Old Quarter to the northwest of the lake and a French Quarter to the southwest.  Our hotel was close to the Old Quarter, and we passed through it whenever we walked to the lake.  I read merchants were taxed based on the amount of street space their shops occupied, so the awning-capped shops in the Old Quarter are deep but have tiny store fronts.  The merchandise spills out onto the sidewalks.  Sometimes you can see through to the living quarters in the rear, with bamboo mats strewn on the floor.  The shops are clustered according to the types of things sold.  The shops on one street all sell electronics, on another street, toys, on another, bamboo, and so forth.  The locals prepare meals and eat them right out on the sidewalk.  Sometimes they sit on miniature plastic chairs and sometimes they just squat like baseball catchers.  They cook on little stoves or over charcoal piled up against the curb.  As a result, the Old Quarter seems like a vast urban campground.

Below:  A typical Old Quarter sidewalk, the view from the back of a moto, Hoan Kiem Lake (with the Tortoise Tower in the foreground and the Den Ngoc Son temple in the distance), Daniel in the necessary zen state as he crosses a street.

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Beyond the Old Quarter is Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum.  It’s a big, gray, concrete cube perched on a big, gray, concrete stand looming over a big, gray, concrete plaza.  The red, gold-starred Vietnam flag waves in front.  Uncle Cho’s body is normally kept inside and on display.  At least it’s supposed to be his real body.  We didn’t get to see it because at this time of year it’s sent to Moscow for–I don’t know what you call it–cosmetic upkeep, let’s say.  Uncle Ho and Comrade Lenin must go to the same beautician.  Years ago I did go inside the Lenin Mausoleum and I thought Lenin looked a little too good–and a bit on the waxy side–to be the real deal.  His face shone so you expected to see a wick coming out of his forehead.  Hanoi has its own grand statue of Lenin, by the way, poised proudly in the center of Hanoi’s own Lenin Park.

In the French Quarter Daniel and I visited the Hoa Lo Prison, AKA “Hanoi Hilton,” where John McCain and other POWs were held.  The French built the prison and originally housed Vietnamese communist dissidents inside in what is depicted as exceptionally cruel and deplorable conditions.  By contrast, the displays make the subsequent conditions experienced by the American POWs look like summer camp.  There are black and white photos of prisoners singing and smiling and playing sports.  Among the objects behind glass used by the American prisoners are a deck of playing cards and a cuddly, canary-yellow crew-necked sweater.  Based on the exhibit, it’s hard to understand what all the POW fuss was about.

Daniel and I also tracked down an unusual war memorial protruding from a pond lying next to an alley.  There we found a half-submerged American B-52 bomber that had been part of the 1972 “Christmas Bombing” campaign.

Near the Mausolem is the Military History Museum.  Before we went inside, I had some trash to discard and was directed to a waste-high dumpster in the rear.  The moment I tossed my litter inside, a rat suddenly lept out, directly at me, glanced off my chest, then fell to the ground and scampered away.  So, I myself was attacked at the Military History Museum! 

The Museum is similar to the War Remnants Museum in HCMC but the collection of USA weaponry snagged in the war is larger and displayed with more palpable gloating.  And the Museum dispenses with any semblance of impartiality.  In the written descriptions accompanying the exhibits, the North Vietnamese are the “Liberation Army,” the U.S. forces are the “American imperialists,” and the South Vietnamese are the “puppet regime.”

Below:  Uncle Ho’s mausoleum, American military vehicles and typical communist statues.

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Speaking of puppets, one night Daniel and I caught a water puppet theatre performance.  The puppets dance on the surface of an indoor pond while a live band plays traditional music.  My brother said he’d always wondered how long a puppeteer could hold his breath.  Actually, the puppeteers stand behind stage in high rubber boots and manipulate the puppets with long underwater sticks.  Admission cost $1.20.  I am not exaggerating when I say I would have paid twice that.

We spent two nights at our hotel in Hanoi and then took a long taxi ride south to Ha Long Bay.  There we boarded a boat and rode out to the giant, dome-topped limestone hills that jut out of the sea, some 2,000 in number.  During the cruise, we stopped at a spectacular cave.  We spent the night on the boat and then travelled overland back up to Hanoi.

Shots of Ha Long Bay:

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On the road, as our cab zoomed and swerved past the two-wheeled vehicles (horn blaring all the way), we marvelled at the impossible loads people riding motor scooters and bicycles were able to carry.  These are the various loads we saw:  large porcelain vases, crates full of eggs, two bundles of 10 foot long pipes, a cage full of ducks, bunches and bunches of bananas, huge pieces of furniture, fruit baskets filled to the brim, enough flowers to open a roadside shop, and, believe it or not, a full-sized cow–lying on its side over the scooter seat with legs roped together (the driver hadn’t gotten on, so I don’t know where he intended to sit…also, couldn’t tell if the cow was dead or alive).  We also saw a good number of upright cows ambling along, some strolling right into the highway and all looking quite anorexic.

A belated happy Thanksgiving to everyone.  Daniel and I celebrated over two “Hanoi” brand beers and a plate of spring rolls filled with mystery meat.  We sat on tiny plastic chairs and shared smiles with the gracious, brown-toothed restaurant proprietor.  Besides family and friends and the comforts and riches and freedoms of home, I had three things on my mind that I felt especially grateful for:  my brother’s company–he’s able to transform the mundane into hilarity with a single remark and can decipher a map like nobody’s business; not getting sick, despite eating plenty of streetside vendor food and drinking beverages with ice; and surviving the traffic.

The little restaurant was just outside the train station.  After our Thanksgiving meal, we boarded an overnight train for the far north of Vietnam.  We didn’t return to Hanoi until three days later.  More about that adventure next time.



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One response to “Ho Ho Ho”

  1. SJ says:

    So pleased that you *finally* realised your ambition and caught a puppet show, you culture vulture, you.

  2. Dan(iel) says:

    Thanks for the kind words, Spence! Even if you’d gotten sick or hit by a car, I’m privileged that you still would’ve been thankful for my company. Likewise! It was a blast experiencing these places with you — you’re an incredible researcher and the perfect co-adventurer (and what a body!) — and I wish I could’ve stayed longer. Looking forward to meeting up again in Macchu Picchu (if only just so I can use that in a sentence a lot). Also, I’m really impressed that you picked up on my highly-disciplined Zen street-crossing techniques. Less-perceptive folks would probably just say I look like an idiot.
    Have a great time in Singapore and Australia!

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