Hanoi, Vietnam

Wednesday | November 19, 2014

We awoke to a collection of beautiful, albeit foggy, islands in Ha Long Bay, strung together like precious pearls.  Although Ha Long Bay has made its name as one of the Seven New Wonders of the World, not many people understand the mystery behind that name. It comes from the fact that Ha Long translates to “where the dragon descends into the sea” and legend claims the islands of Ha Long Bay were created by a family of dragons who descended from the mountains. Ha Long village itself was built by the French in 1905. And it is well known for its sweet cakes.

After a lovely room service breakfast in the apartment, I headed out for the 3 ½ hour drive to Hanoi – the city we all heard and learned so much about during the 1960s. (But first, we sailed, in our tender, past floating fishing villages and prawn farms.)

Hanoi is referred to as he “grand dame” of Asia. It is Vietnam’s capital and the country’s second largest city. (The largest is Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon.) In Hanoi, the exotic chic of old Asia combine with the dynamic face of new Asia, where medieval and modern exist together. Hanoi seems to offer a blend of Parisian grace with the pace of Asia, featuring Asian history, a colonial legacy, and a modern outlook. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The drive alone was worth the effort!

I sat in the front row of the bus for 3 1/2 hours. We went past water buffalo, rice fields, farmland, small towns, and mountain vistas. But more impressive, and scary, than anything else, was the traffic, which was more outrageous and unpredictable than anything I'd seen in the world. For the first three hours of the trip, we saw not a single stop sign or traffic light. Moreover, I questioned openly the utility of wasting paint for lines in the road. The highway and back roads were littered with buses, trucks and cars, but mostly motorcycles – thousands and thousands of motorcycles. And everyone just drove wherever he wanted – with no regard for which lane of traffic one was in—or which direction the traffic was moving!

A memorable moment occurred not more than 10 minutes into the trip when the bus driver had to slam on the brakes and turn the bus decidedly to the right. As the bus swerved to come up almost on two wheels, a motorcyclist darted around the bus. Had the driver not had catlike instincts and reflexes, the motorcycle would have become part of our bumper and I would have had an amazing photograph to add to this blog.

Our guide, Strong, is pleasant, informative and fun. We noted that virtually all of the houses along the road were not of typical shape. Rather, they were deep and long, but very narrow. Strong went on to explain that houses in the countryside were all built in a similar manner. The house was narrow so as not to require a large footprint of the land.

But they were long because almost every house had a storefront on the street level. He explained that while the husbands were out making money, the wives at a little shop “mostly to keep them busy – as a hobby.” The most expensive houses have the shop entrances facing the street. The second floor was for the grandparents, third for the children and top floor the owners/parents.

We also learned that the cost of cars in Vietnam exceeds three times that of a similar car in the United States. For example, a Toyota Camry is priced at $75,000 US. The country has over 90 million people and is estimated that every adult – approximately 40 million – owns a motorbike. Sadly, there are over 10,000 motorbike deaths each year. But as the day progressed, I was surprised to learn that number was not fivefold 10,000.

My own observation was that a suprisingly large percentage of women drive these motorcycles and motorbikes, weaving around and through traffic on the roads. Some of them wore high heels and suits. But almost all of them wore kerchiefs across their faces. Strong explained to us that is because is very important for Vietnamese women to maintain the whiteness of their skin. I would have thought it was to keep the abundant dust out of their eyes, nose and mouth.

Strong also explained that cars are an absolute luxury in Vietnam. And so are golf club memberships. A golf club membership in Vietnam costs approximately $20,000 a year – which is a small fortune in Vietnam - and, one needs a car to get to the golf clubs. He told us an interesting story about how people mortgage virtually everything they have to come up with the money so they can join the club to find “investors” in their newest and wackiest ideas. However, much to their chagrin, often all they need is more of the same type of “investors” those who have also mortgaged everything to join the clubs. Ah, ain’t Communism grand?

It was also interesting to note clusters of graves and mausoleums in the farms and rice patties along the road. It was explained that when Vietnamese people die, there is a two-part ceremony. The body is first entombed in a wooden box and laid in the ground for a period of three years. During that time, it is thought that the soul leaves the earthly body. Then, at the end of the third year, the bodies are exhumed and put into ceramic coffins where they are then laid to rest for all eternity. It was a tradition, for centuries, for grandparents and parents to be buried in the family fields. But in 1962, the Vietnamese government enacted the new law requiring all decedents to be buried in proper cemeteries. (Interestingly, when relatives were buried in land, and the land was seized by the government and turned over to others, it remained the burden of the new homesteaders to care for those buried in their land. It is thought that if one does not take care of the dead, one will be sent to hell after his death.)

On the way to Hanoi, we made a quick comfort stop. It was notable because we saw dozens of handicapped children taking drawing lessons there.

We learned that many of the handicaps are allegedly traced to the American introduction of Agent Orange during the Vietnamese war. Agent Orange was a defoliant used to immediately remove all the leaves from trees, so US snipers would have better vision of their guerilla enemies.

Outside, we saw clusters of ceramics, something Vietnam is well known for.

We also learned that more than 60% of Vietnamese citizens practice some form of Buddhism. On an unrelated note, we discussed the French occupancy of Vietnam. The French first came to Vietnam in 1864 and left in 1954, when Ho Chi Minh came to power and gave rise to communism. While the French imported their culture, art, fashion and architecture to Vietnam, perhaps their greatest gift was the introduction of Roman letters, as opposed to symbols that are traditionally used in other Asian countries like China and Japan.

There are essentially three elements of Hanoi – the French quarter, the Ancient quarter and the Modern quarter. This morning was to be about the French quarter. But as we drove in, one could not help but notice the immense and starkly appointed modern quarter which greets a visitor as he enters the city.

We drove by the Hanoi Opera House, built in 1911 by the French. It is a phenomenal piece of Neo-classical French architecture. Gothic themes feature on the doors, domes, pillars, shuttered windows and balconies. It is also commonly used as a venue for wedding photographs.

We continued to drive down and through small streets that were tortured with motorbikes.

One of the other fascinating elements of the city I noticed immediately, were the hornets nests of electrical, television and internet wires strewn in random fashion on virtually every street corner. Actually, I became obsessed with them!

Also interesting were the karaoke bars that appeared on virtually every block.

We left the bus in the French quarter and walked the streets a bit before coming upon a wonderful little hole in the wall place to have lunch. Of course, no one spoke a word of English, but our guide was instrumental in getting us served beef and noodle soup, complete with large bottles of Hanoi beer.

After lunch, and as we continued to walk the streets, we saw countless women and girls preparing food on the street – literally on the street.

We also saw numerous women – never men – carrying long bamboo poles with huge burdens of parcels on either end – and bicycles similarly burdened.

We saw dozens of brides being photographed.

As is the case in China, this is a custom the day before a wedding. On one occasion, we saw five brides and their bridegrooms on the same block being photographed. They had gathered quite a crowd. But I guess there is nothing like a mass execution to gather a crowd of interested onlookers!

We were treated to a view inside a traditional Vietnamese home. The entire living space, including the kitchen, was only slightly larger than my shoe closet in Connecticut!

We then visited the Maison Centrale, also known as the Hoa Lo Prison and, to Americans who lived in the 1960s, as the Hanoi Hilton.

The stark fortress was once a vast colonial style prison and the home of the most vicious forms of torture. Three quarters of the buildings were taken down during the 1990s to give way to a large apartment complex, but a small southern section of the prison can be found resting alongside that same hotel. Intended to house 600 prisoners, it was well known that the prison at times exceeded 2200 prisoners on any given day. This is the site where approximately 300 American fighter pilots were kept and tortured during the height of the Vietnam War. Despite the stories of torture, and the prominently displayed shackles still hanging from the walls, the prison today portrays a much different side – vastly different from the horrific stories told by former inmates such as Senator John McCain. It was disturbing, and actually sickening, to read and hear the Vietnamese rendering of the use of that horrible building during the war. They showed video clips and had signs that were mostly focused on the “American Resistance” and the protests to the war that were taking place across the United States and Europe. In the placards that accompanied the photographs, there were repeated references to the “American sabotage warfare.” And when referring to the detention and torture of prisoners, it was always reported that the pilots were “arrested.”

Alongside John McCain’s actual navy flight suit, was a showcase depicting a badminton net, chess and checkers, backgammon, playing cards and a guitar – all explaining how much fun Senator McCain and his aviator colleagues had during their lovely stay in Hanoi.

Our next stop was the Bach Ma Temple, supposedly referred to as the Vatican of Hanoi. Like many other temples we have seen, it was rich with incense and gold Buddhas. It is located in the heart of the Old quarter, and thought to be the oldest temple in Hanoi.  It is a shrine to Confucius.

We then spent a decent amount of time walking the streets of the Ancient quarter. Strong had nicknames for each Street – “Rolex Street,” “Shoe Street,” “Poultry Street,” etc.   No matter where we went, the theme was the same – hordes of loud motorcycles running up and down the streets, and peasants peddling their wares on the street.  Strong advised that there are over 1,000,000 peddlers in China.

One could even see a citizen getting a haircut, with a straight razor, right on the sidewalk. And that was right next to a woman get in the lice removed from her hair, also on the sidewalk.

After checking back into our hotel, the Metropole, and having a drink, I set out for dinner. (Actually, the legendary Metropole Hanoi opened in 1901 in the heart of the city. This hotel has played host to an impressive list of global leaders, including several US presidents.)

I was directed to have dinner at a restaurant called White Rice. I walked over 40 minutes up and down Pho Ngo Quen as the dust turned to dark.

The streets became seedy, with groups of young girls and boys gathered to eat their dinners on the sidewalk – literally ON the sidewalk. Motorbikes were strewn all over the sidewalks and old men and women sat on plastic chairs watching the dogs and roosters parade in front of their shops.

We twice crossed Pho Nguyen Du, but were unable to find that damned restaurant. Instead, we stumbled into a restaurant called Wild Rice, which was terrific. The room itself was French colonial, Vietnamese, perfectly indigenous to downtown Hanoi. We had great soup, spring rolls, beer steamed crab and duck a l’orange.

We walked back to the hotel after a long day and night of sightseeing.