7 to 9 March - Hanoi

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The next day Gina and I make the trek by foot out of the Old Quarter, west to the Ho Chi Minh Museum, the Mausoleum and the Presidential Palace. If you’ve ever done this walk you’ll know that you pass by some of serious Government ministry buildings guarded by earnest young soldiers sporting arms. They look serious but as you approach them for directions, they grin and point a way down the road. Occasionally I get a salute.

We are about half an hour late for the mausoleum – I say we are late because it is 30 minutes after opening time and the queue stretched for hundreds of metres. It takes a fair bit of time to get into the compound – all in single file after being searched a number of times and all cameras being handed in. We finally make our way to the base of the mausoleum but are stopped to allow a column of elderly Viet through. They look like war veterans and as they are also presenting a floral tribute they are given precedence over us to pay their respects. While waiting our turn we are acutely reminded of the significance of this place by the entourage of special guards, neatly decked out in crisp white uniforms. They stare at each of us, occasionally pulling someone out of the line to inspect a bag or putting a finger to their mouths to signal silence and respect. When we finally make our way up the steps into the large concrete building we are well and truly primed. We make our way up a couple of stairways, each turn greeted by another guard, before turning down into the core of the building where Ho Chi Minh’s body lies encased in glass. The room is staggering cold by comparison to the outside only adding to the surreal experience. The glassed case where the body lies is guarded by four more soldiers – silent and still. We are permitted to stop and look at the body for about 30 seconds before being marshalled out of the room and follow a similar meandering route out of the building. It’s hard to describe the experience. Surreal is the easiest way, particularly when we are told of the effort the Viets take in preserving the body and the image of Uncle Ho – the place gets closed down for a couple of months for some Russian embalmers to come in and work their magic.

After the mausoleum we visit the Ho Chi Minh museum and the Presidential Palace. They are further edifices to the idolatry that is perpetuated by the state. They are actually quite good places to visit with a well of info and quite a few good exhibits.

The next day is spent out at the Museum of Ethnology. Its some distance from the centre of Hanoi and we use the local buses to get out. A taxi would have been easier but mixing with the locals on a grubby bus is what travel is about. At 3000VND, or twelve cents, it’s an absolute pittance. The museum is great and the carefully constructed exhibits really do present an insight to the cultural diversity of the peoples of the Vietnam, particularly the sparse populations of hill tribes. When are visiting, a group of Ba Na men are working on re-thatching the roof of the large communal house that represents their people at the museum. The work is fairly major but undertaken in the culturally appropriate manner using the indigenous skills of the workers. It strikes me as an unusual approach for the Viet as the normal approach would have been to find a cheap tacky shortcut. It is certainly refreshing to see and a great testament to the authenticity of the museum’s endeavours.

The 8^th of March is International Womens Day so I buy Gina a chocolate slice. The staff at the hotel suggest that I buy flowers – the florist are everywhere and doing a roaring trade. A small street near the Dong Xuan market in particular reminds us of the hubbub of Valentines Day back home.

In the evening we meet our friend Julie at the Hanoi Backpackers and she brings us to date with her travels through central Vietnam. Its funny how big Vietnam is and yet, we keep on bumping into people that we have met earlier. Ellen and Alex meet several people from Phong Nha at the hostel for instance. Despite the size of the country, a fair proportion of the younger travellers will be funnelled through the backpacker hostels of Saigon, Hue and Hanoi so I suppose it’s probably no great surprise. But it is nice to meet up again with travellers and share stories.

The next day, Friday, we leave Hanoi and return to the south. Its one of those travelling days where hotel check out and taxis to and from airports as well as the flights, short as they are, still manage to gobble up most of the day. Gina leaves on a midday flight to Singapore to meet an old school friend Meredith. She will stay there for a week while Ellen and Alex and I make our way across to Cambodia by land – the plan is for Gina to join up with us when we make it to Siem Reap. After the toils of previous bus and train long haul trips, Ellen and Alex decide to join me on a flight to Saigon. We take a flight on an airbus operated by Vietnam’s fourth airline – a new budget airline called VietJet. At the time of flying, they only have 3 planes – Airbuses formerly belonging to Air Jordan. The signs aren’t too hopeful, particularly when the computer melts at checkin, and the plane is delayed, but the flight turns out to be perfect and by early evening the 3 of us are back at Mrs Long’s guesthouse in Pham Ngu Lao.

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