Encountering Cambodia and Vietnam - Ha Noi, Sunday 2016 March 6

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March 6th 2016

Published: June 17th 2017

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Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

Hundred of excited but hushed visitors

We hurried out of the hotel this morning to visit again the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh. Because it was Sunday, extra crowds were lining up to view his embalmed body. Many people were wearing their best clothes – especially the women in colourful Ao Dai (traditional dresses). Obviously considering this a special outing, lots of parents had brought their children. A very long line of teen-aged students in their school uniforms of green soft trousers and green and white team jackets were about to enter, and all the others in line had to wait for the school group.

As often happens, Thuy had a contact in the right place to put us in some type of VIP line, shorter than the one that trailed for hundreds of metres along the edge of the grounds. Thuy took our cameras and cell phones, and instructed us to not talk when we were inside. This is my third historic mausoleum (Lenin and Mao Tse Tung), controlled in much the same way to effect efficiency and respect. To my surprise, this time we passed much closer to the body, perhaps three metres away. Ho Chi Minh looked oddly pale and larger than I

Ho Chi Minh's Stilt house

Where the President lived, preferring a spartan lifestyle even after winning the war

expected. Four guards stood solemnly in a sort of moat around the bier. The walk always seems to go quickly, as the line is silently kept moving by security staff gesturing gently.

Once outside, Thuy returned our cameras and let us free to take photos. Close to the Mausoleum were former administration buildings set in a large soft park. The huge, French Colonial Presidential Palace was rejected by Ho Chi Minh after independence. He favoured the "Stilt House", originally a worker's house. Glass walls enabled us to see his office and home study and reception rooms. The many visitors were gently pushing each other and us trying to experience the feel of the recently preserved past. All tourists were curious to look at each other, and the young women in their dresses were flattered by our fascination. I was glad we had attended the flag ceremony last night. Together the ceremonies speak of people’s reverence for Ho Chi Minh and for Vietnam, despite their difficult recent history.

Our next destination, the Ethnological Museum, was another Sunday outing for families. The ability of the nation to attach importance to social structures and of people to spend money and time

Study in the Stilt house

Easy to imagine late night paperwork or reading

visiting sites shows that the prosperity of Vietnam is growing. The Museum, as many other museums here, was co-sponsored by European countries, notably France. Karen and I mused on the motivation for this, since Thuy had already told us that the French had destroyed all cultural institutions when they left in 1954. The Museum was devoted to the 57 ethnic groups of Vietnam, of which the Viet constitute 85% of the population; the emphasis was on the other ethnicities. Seeing all the displays was impossible. I enjoyed the weaving which favoured red decorated with other colours, often on a black garment. Farther north and farther into the mountains life tended to be more and more traditional. One notable item was an historic knife in a wooden sheath with a turtle carved in well-worn relief; the handle of the knife was the hoof of a goat or deer cocked at the ankle. In the centre of the lobby was a decorated pole, two stories in height, plus another six feet that didn’t fit into the building and was kept to one side. This special pole was part of a widespread tradition to acknowledge the human desire to reach heaven and the

Poinsettia

After all, a tropical plant

ancestors.

Our group met up to enjoy coffee and ginger tea, a delicious combination of lemongrass tea, fresh ginger and honey. Thuy delighted us by introducing us to her nephew’s son (four months old), whom she considers a grandchild because he lives with her. She had arranged for the nanny to bring him, since Thuy’s house is about a kilometre from the Museum. Her older brother came by after a while with his daughter. They came with us to the water puppet show.

The water puppets were strange, and unique to Vietnam. The stage was a pond, and a bamboo theatre was built on the pond. Although members of a complex secret society, it was obvious at the basic level that the puppeteers manipulated the puppets with rods and strings that ran under the water. Partially submerged, the puppets enacted traditional stories. Even without understanding the language, the show was riotous good fun. The characters, such as snakes, dragons, water buffalo, men, and women splashed about. enacting challenges and fights. Only one story featured a peaceful boat sailing with several people aboard. Throughout, a group of musicians played and sometimes sang and narrated the story. The introductions were

Water puppets

Inset: theatre pavilion

in English, which was generous but not really helpful. Later we saw puppets in one of the displays; most of them were three-quarters formed, since they didn't need details such as legs.

">View video of the water puppet performance.

Time for lunch at the restaurant. The food was good, particularly the baby bok choy, a favourite of mine. We have had it at several meals now, so possibly it is more common in the north.

Thuy gave us a good amount of time after lunch to see the remainder of the museum and to shop. First I went to the ethnic houses set up at one end of the property. They were not purpose built, rather houses donated to the museum. They were well curated, with good explanatory signs in Vietnamese, French and English. I went to the five Cham buildings that made up the housing for an extended family. The house was wood, which indicated it was valuable and belonged to a wealthy family. The roof was a double roof, that is, one layer was thatching and another layer was clay, improving resistance to fire. The standard sleeping arrangement was a mat on the floor – the master bedroom was special because it

Sapper cutting barbed wire 1980

Floating figure, sinister task

was a private room; all other family members slept communally. In the kitchens of all the houses, a bamboo framed platform hung from the rafters to store baskets and pans.

At this point I needed the WC (the standard name here), so went back to the museum building. Then I detoured to the Museum Shop (a separate building), where silk scarves abounded. I didn’t even resist, buying a feather light bright orange scarf of very delicate weave. It was the product of a craft coop and cost only about $9. The hand woven fabric cushion covers tempted me strongly, but the black and white with burgundy accents wouldn’t look good in any room of my house.

There was time for one more traditional house, and Ray recommended the Viet house. Some of the arrangements were similar to the Cham house, except the floors were beaten earth instead of wood plank. Similarly, the central room was largest, here with a very large heavy wood table where guests and family could gather and talk.

In a change of pace, our next visit was to the Fine Arts Museum. This was in a large French Colonial building. The first floor

Commemoration 2000

Contemplation of future and past

was historic art, the second early twentieth century, and the third contemporary art. After a quick look at sandstone carvings and silk paintings, I thought it would be better to at least see some of the more modern art. The early twentieth century paintings were attractive, addressed many different topics and moods, and were in different styles, including one using Picasso’s techniques. The third floor was more disappointing. For the most part, the subjects were either trite or propagandistic or both. Many more of the works dealt with war topics, especially the American war. Soviet-style paintings, while interesting to show the history of thought, felt badly dated. One very good sculpture looked balletic, a body balanced on its back, floating in space except for attachment at the lower back to a rough pedestal. In checking the name, I was astonished to see that it represented a soldier cutting through a barbed wire fence. I loved its artistry in recording history.

In this rich city tour, one more site beckoned. The Temple of Literature, or the Temple of Confucianism, was a type of university dating to 1076. While the current buildings were not all that old, the site was still

University graduates

Celebrating at the Temple of Literatures

revered. In fact, a class of high school graduates were having their photos taken in the beautiful gardens on this their celebratory day. The boys were in black pants and white shirts, and the girls were in pure white silk traditional dresses. Historically, this was where students took exams to join the mandarins, for which the failure rate was high. Those students had to pay to take the exams: if they passed, they and their families were raised up in status and wealth; if they failed, they could well be in debt, especially if they took the exams more than once. Some scholars earned the rough equivalent of a doctorate, and their names were engraved on stele mounted on the backs of turtles, one of the sacred animals. Towards the back of the five building complex was a ceramic statue of Confucius, worshipped even though Confucianism is a philosophy of life rather than a religion. Even farther back was a shrine for the founder of university education in Vietnam.

Between the two shrines was room given over to a gift shop and a musical performance stage. Three musicians played three cheerful, sweet tunes on traditional instruments, plus “O Susannah”

Historic stele listing doctorates

Reminder of the long history of education

in honour of us westerners. Immediately afterwards, their supporters rushed up to ask us to buy a CD. I did, for five dollars, because I wanted some instrumental music as background for my videos. By now my brain was full, and I could hardly concentrate on Thuy’s last bits of information. Finally she took us back to the hotel for some rest.

I’ve just come back from an after-dinner walk through the large night market. The goods were somewhat less touristy than in Siem Reap. We could see families shopping for inexpensive clothes, and teenagers looking at sunglasses and costume jewellery. The food stalls gave off wonderful aromas, although we were full from dinner. A constant stream of mostly young people pushed their way along, sometimes pushing us away from each other. The clatter and chatter and bright lights jazzed our brains until almost everything seemed joyous and funny. Even the sudden transition at the end into the hodgepodge of cars and trucks and motorcycles and buses was not really intimidating. Indeed we have learned to negotiate our way through the formless honking and blinding headlights.

Dinner this evening was special because Thuy’s son, Duc, came to meet

Hanoi public art

Magic glowing sphere in the dusk

us at the restaurant. We persuaded him to join us, and the empty seat was across from me. His English was slow and basic but well-spoken. He trained as a graphic designer but now represents Nutralife, a supplement company, because their products helped him so much with his health issues about four years ago. He met us again at the hotel, this time with his fiancée, Bich. (He was unfamiliar with the term, fiancée.) She was tiny, rosy and beautiful. They hope to be married in May. Thuy will move out of the house she shares with her son to live in another property she owns, although her son was not in favour of this plan, as traditionally she should stay with them. Suitably, Thuy now frets about the wedding.

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