A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
After several days in Hanoi, I can honestly say that they are MUCH better drivers up here than in Ho Chi Minh City. I mean, they've got this little invention called the "stoplight" at which motorbikes and other vehicles actually stop and allow pedestrians to walk across in the "crosswalk". Most drivers even do this thing I would call "slowing down" when they get to an intersection and want to turn right! It's quite remarkable -- I didn't know the Vietnamese had it in them to be decent drivers. Of course, it could very well be that they are awful and my judgment has been thrown way off by five months in the chaos of Saigon.

I'm actually really enjoying Hanoi. It doesn't have the supercharged energy of Saigon, but its narrow windy streets, crumbling French-style buildings, multiple lakes, and trees make it very picturesque. Our hotel is in the Old Quarter, a labrynth of narrow twisty streets that cleverly change names every block or two to provide maximum tourist confusion. The city is dotted with lakes surrounded by parks and walking paths, giving it a really beautiful serene feeling, and the vendors are a shade less relentless than I'm used to which is a relief.

The Old Quarter was originally laid out with each block or series of blocks allotted to a specific guild or trade. Though this has changed somewhat since the advent of tourism (lots more craft, art, and clothing shops all over), you can still walk through the area and come upon a block entirely devoted to towels, or iron goods, or paper goods or any number of other categories. Some have clearly changed over the years -- the leather street has transformed itself into vinyl motorbike seat street, but it is pretty remarkable how this antiquated system has stuck around. To me it makes very little sense, as it means, for example, that if you want to photocopy something you have to go to the photocopy street 10 blocks away, rather than having a little of everything available in your neighborhood. It does, however, explain why this system prevails to some extent in Ho Chi Minh City as well -- I always wondered why there would be entire blocks full of safes or shoes or air conditioners. I guess it's not entirely because the Vietnamese are copycats (though they still are in most respects), but that it is culturally ingrained to do it this way.

Though we didn't do a whole lot in the way of standard tourist activity while we were in town, we hit the most important site: Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum. You may be surprised to hear it, but you can visit the actual body of Ho Chi Minh right here in Hanoi. Although Ho specifically requested cremation in his will, the folks that had the final say on that back in 1969 evidently decided that his body had way too much potential as a national shrine to just burn in a brief ceremony. So they shipped him off to Russia, where embalmers had already done such a bang-up job on Lenin.

It's quite an impressive setup. We entered, checked our bags, and got in line with hundreds of Vietnamese marching two by two down lines painted helpfully on the pavement. Visitors who stepped out of line received a gentle warning from the frequent humorless guards. Uncle Ho himself is housed in a huge marble mausoleum that the guidebook suggests resembles a lotus flower or some such thing. It lies. Really it looks like a more austere and square version of the U.S. Supreme Court -- a big marble box with lots of pillars.

As we marched in two by two it became clear that Ho likes to stay cool -- the place has the best air conditioning in town, and I began to regret not bringing a sweater. Best not to try to put one's hands in one's pockets either -- the numerous guards really don't like that, either because it's disrespecful or they're afraid you smuggled a camera in.

After some stairs the horde descends upon Ho Chi Minh from behind and slightly above his left shoulder. A raised balcony encircles the dim room and visitors must move at all times -- no stopping to gawk. I must say that Ho looks pretty damned good for a guy dead more than 30 years lounging in a glass display case. I mean, sure he looks a bit waxy and the lighting gives his face and hands an eerie and disconcerting glowing effect, but he basically looks just like a pale version of his photo.

And don't be afraid you might miss this viewing treat do to Lenin-style deterioration. Every year Uncle Ho is removed from his glass case and shipped off to Russia for three months of "maintenance". I'll let you imagine for yourself what that entails.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 2:25 AM