Good Morning, Vietnam
Hi Everyone,
Well, I’m finally getting around to e-mailing everyone to let you know what is going on with me. For those of you who don’t know, I’m in Vietnam. I’ve been in Hanoi for the last two weeks seeking employment as an English teacher. So far, I’ve had two offers, both in Hanoi, but haven’t made any commitments as yet. Would prefer working in a smaller town on the coast. Quieter, maybe cooler with a breeze, and near a beach.
Hanoi is a big city with 5 million people, 4 million motorbikes, and three helmets. The streets are incredibly crowded, many more motorbikes and bikes than cars. There are traffic lights only at the major intersections and only the cars seem to pay attention to them. In most cases, motorbikes converge on the intersection from four directions at once. It’s like schools of fish or flights of birds coming together, somehow they enter this melting pot and come out the other side unscathed. It’s a miracle. So far I have not seen a single accident.
The secret to crossing the street is to wait til there are no cars coming, step out, walk at a constant pace, and don’t look. If you don’t panic, and walk slowly, they will judge where youi are going to be when they get to you and they will try very hard not to hit you, but they will pass very close to you. It’s like walking in the ocean and having a school of fish swim by. Somehow they move around you and never touch, it’s just not as frightening.
There is constant noise in the city. Constant honking of horns on cars or motorbikes. Most of the time it’s to let the person in front of you know that you want to pass or , at least, to let them know that you are passing them and they should not move into you lane (and, believe me, I use the word lane very lightly). I’ve seen cases in which our bus would pass another bus by pulling out into an oncoming stream of motorbikes. It was the responsibility of the motorbike to pull over to the edge of the road or take on a bus head-on. Sometimes the busses just drive merrily down the center of the road, with motorbikes taking what was left of the road. But everyone is constantly honking their horn. I really think in some cases they just like the sound of their horns. And there are a variety of sounds, not just the one note blaring we have in the States.
Hanoi is a big, crowded, dirty city. The weather sucks. I haven’t seen the sun since I’ve been here. The people are nice and friendly. Most want to sell you something, of course, but they don’t harass you. Women with a board over their shoulder and two hanging baskets want to sell you fruit or bread. Men with three wheelers want to give you a ride round town. Men with motorbikes want to take you somewhere. Just say no and keep moving.
I’ve been living in the old quarter of town which the guide book says is the most densely populated area in all of Asia. I can believe it. Small shops line the streets and they are packed with merchandise, I mean, absolutely packed! The people live in the streets, literally. In the old quarter, the side walks are so filled with parked motorbikes that there is usually no room to walk. You walk in the street and ignore all the honking and pray no one hits you. It’s worse at mealtimes. The shopowners cook their food in little pots they set up on the sidewalk then gather around and either sit on little stools about six inches high or just hunker down. (Everyone here can hunker down, squat, sit on your heels, for those not from the South). At mealtime, the street is the only avenue open. Periodically, between the shops, there is a narrow (3 foot) passageway leading to the back. I’m told that as many as 25 people live back there and share one bathroom. No wonder they live on the street.
In addition to looking for employment, I’ve been on three tours. The first was a tour of the city of Hanoi. First stop was the mausoleum of THE Man. Ho Chi Minh. A large cold, marble building with nothing inside but HIM. We stood in a long line to enter but it moved fairly quickly. No cameras, no hats on the head, no improper dress, no laughter, no talking, no hands in pockets, no stopping. There were beautifully uniformed guards who herded us through quickly. If you hesitated, they touched your arm to move you along. We were in the the room with HIM for about a minute making a big “U” around the body. He looked very yellow, well, even more than normal. Could have been plastic as far as I could tell. In and out. No time to make a quick inspection.
Next door was the Presidential Palace. Ho refused to live there but preferred a simple two room house on the grounds. We walked around the balcony and looked inside. Spartan to say the least.
We went to the Temple of Literature. Actually, it’s a Buddhist Temple where students went to study. It was dedicated to Confuscius (sp?). I’ll have to read up on this to understand the realtionship. Maybe more about this later.
The rest of the day was devoted to going to different pagodas. I was “pagoda”ed out by the end of the tour. One pagoda was in a lake in the center of town. The story goes that the emperor won a great battle and gave his sword to a Golden Turtle who lived in the lake. If, in the future, Vietnam is pressed by it’s enemies, the Turtle will return the sword to save the nation. In light of the history of the nation, either the turtle has fallen asleep on the job or the legend rings hollow.
The second tour was a day trip to the Perfume Pagoda. We rode on the bus for an hour and a half through flat land where there were endless rice fields being harvested by (mostly) women bent over cutting the rice at the ground. Back-breaking work. Much like picking cotton. All the land is ovened by the State but it is leased to families for a period of 15 years. The rice is often spread across the road. Our bus drove over many piles of rice. This is the manner they use to separate the rice from the shaft.
We arrived at the Perfume River just as it began to mist. We bought flimsy ponchos that were offered. They were about as sturdy as the plastic bag you get to carry groceries home from the store. We were inundated with women trying to sell us things. They tried to “give” us bracelets and said ,”My name is Moon. Remember me when you come back.” I figured if you took a “free” bracelet, you wer somehow obligated to buy something from them when you came back. We got in metal, flat-bottomed john boats, four tourist and one female rower to each, and set off. It began to rain hard. We all got soaked, even the thinks in my backpack got wet. Luckily, I was able to keep my camera dry. The rain was wet but warm. The wind slowed our progress and it took over an hour to get up river. We got off at the base of a mountain. Here we all bought sturdy ponchos and threw the others away. We were given the choice of walking, make that climbing, the trail up to the Perfume Pagoda or taking a gondola. I chose the gondola. Even the climb up to the gondola was slippery and treacherous due to the rain.
The Perfume Pagoda is actually an enormous cave. Did I mention enormous? There is a huge stalagmite right in the middle of the entrance which is called the tongue of the dragon. There is a big iron bell at the entrance which I hit three times with a large mallet which was supposed to bring me luck. It hasn’t worked so far. The cave is like any other cave, with stalagtites and stalagmites, just larger than most. In the back there is the necessary paraphernalia which make it a pagoda. The buddha with the thousand eyes and thousand arms, lots of gold statues, etc. There seems to always be three layers of icons with the most sacred in the back on the highest tier. I’ll have to read more about the religion to understand.
Due to the rain, there were very few tourists that day. We had lunch in a large quonset hut on long banquet style tables. The meal was family style. Lots of food. Not always sure what it was but it was good and filling. Lots of rice always. And spring rolls. I have been quite pleased with the food. Think I am beginning to lose some weight.
Tags: 1, Tag Index
higgiro39