It’s 6.30 a.m. in Hanoi, Vietnam’s capital. For factory workers, market traders, and bleary-eyed travelers, a lie-in isn’t an option. Not when what sounds like some seriously-aggrieved army general is barking out the local news over Luong Van Can Street’s public address, Tannoy.
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Seafood and jazz with the locals The bill was $10. That got us four Tiger beers, two bowls of crab and asparagus soup, five seafood-stuffed spring rolls, a dish of deep-fried cubes of salted tofu, a platter of fried rice bejeweled with shrimp, squid, and cuttlefish, and a green crunchy vegetable in oyster sauce, similar to jungle ferns. Tiger prawns and whole fish, such as grouper, sell by weight. Customers pick their live fish, crabs, eel, and even turtles from various tanks. Hanoi goes to bed early and 11.30 p.m. constitutes a late night. Certainly that’s when Minh’s Jazz Club kicked out its still-thirsty customers when we visited. What jazz club worth the name shuts before midnight? We had to wake the hotel night porter who was already fast asleep on a rolled-out mat in the lobby. |
Well, I’ve been told it’s the news. Maybe it’s my imagination, but it sounds more like an exhortation to raise the rice yield. If things follow the normal pattern, the daily diatribe will last 30 minutes.
With a population of around 83 million, Vietnam is one of the last bastions of Communism. Whatever your feelings about that, there’s nothing gray or dreary about Hanoi. Charismatic and chaotic in equal measure, it conjures up all the seductive magic of the Orient.
That’s not to deny the air pollution, the moped mania, and the sheer lunacy of trying to cross a road. (Here traffic signals are rarely obeyed.) But it’s easy to ignore the few negatives-Hanoi is essentially a charmed Indochine world of lake pagodas, curiosity shops, and cultural traditions spooling back centuries.
Schoolgirls wear traditional ao dai tunic-and-pants uniforms of white or lilac silk. Around the courtyards of the 11th-century Temple of Literature, students still burn incense to honor Confucius in the hope of good exam results. Visit Hoan Kiem Lake early (street Tannoys make perfect alarm calls), and you’ll see locals of all ages doing t’ai chi exercises.
Berets and baguettes
Hanoi’s French colonial past isn’t only marked by the Opera House, Saint Joseph’s Cathedral, and stately lakeside villas. I can’t remember when I last saw berets in France, but here black ones remain the headgear of choice for many old Francophiles. Fresh baguettes are sold everywhere-not just along the French Quarter’s tree-lined boulevards. And you don’t have to visit a fancy French restaurant to see snails on a menu. A favorite way to serve them is stuffed with lemon and ginger.
From banana leaf salad to barbecued bun cha pork with noodles, local dishes are usually exceptionally tasty. But, like China, Vietnam voraciously devours anything that walks, slithers, swims, or flies. If the sight of skinned dogs is likely to upset you, best avoid the food markets’ meat sections. French influence on local eating habits only extended so far.
To me, Hanoi feels like a Janus-faced city teetering between two worlds. Vietnam’s flirtation with the free market economy has resulted in chic boutiques, art galleries, Internet cafés, and cell-phone overload. Individual enterprises exist in the thousands. But although the Bamboo Curtain has been lifted, it hasn’t been torn down completely.
From the multitude of gold-starred red flags to stern soldiers in dark olive-green uniforms, reminders of that fact are everywhere. Hanoi has a restricted military area called the Citadel, and a statue of Lenin keeps the Communist faith on Dien Bien Phu Avenue. While I had no desire to see Ho Chi Minh’s embalmed corpse, his mausoleum is among Hanoi’s most visited attractions. Gazing benignly down from hoardings, Uncle Ho remains greatly revered.
A thousand years of history on 36 streets
I stayed in the Old Quarter, a cat’s-cradle of lanes choked with everything Asian: Honda Dream mopeds and rickshaw cyclos; closet-sized stores and their overspills; rice shops, noodle shops, and street cooks preparing fragrantly steaming buns filled with minced pork.
Street corner mechanics do "moto" and bicycle repairs with stirrup pumps and buckets of water. Wizened old ladies shuffle along, balancing twin baskets of dragon fruit on bamboo poles. There are outdoor barbers, sidewalk checker games, and balloon sellers. Above the street, thickly entangled skeins of electricity and telephone wires look positively lethal.
Not that you’ll spend much time looking upward. What grabs the attention is all at eye-level. I’ve window-shopped the world over, but nowhere else offers such a bedazzling display of silken delights: purses, lanterns, shoes, cell-phone holders, and even sleeping bags. Much depends on quality, but bargain hard and you’ll get a simply tailored silk ao dai outfit for $25.
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Staying at the tube-house Our room had two fabulous mother-of-pearl inlaid wooden chairs. However, the bed wasn’t quite so fabulous. It was so tightly wedged against the wall I had to crawl over it to get into it. As for the sheets and cover arrangement, I couldn’t figure the maid’s intention. It was so complicated, it brought to mind an image of lunatics and straitjackets. |
The Old Quarter’s "36 Streets" contain almost 1,000 years of history. A labyrinth of noodle-skinny laneways, their roots lie in the medieval guild system. Maps puzzlingly show more than 36 streets, but the name derives from the 36 guilds that thrived during the 15th century. Village artisans migrated to Hanoi bringing specialist crafts with them. Coppersmiths, china bowl makers, fish-sauce producers-each trade colonized a street for themselves.
Like all but one of its original 16 gates, the neighborhood’s rampart walls vanished long ago. However, many "tube-houses" still exist. A number of dwellings really are of tube dimension: something like 10 feet wide and 200 feet long. The reason behind the quirky architectural style was that shopkeepers were taxed on the width of their store frontage.
Changing times, changing economies
Many streets begin with Hang, which translates as merchandise or shop. Hang Chi (Thread Street) was once known for its spinners, spindles, and shops selling thread and cotton yarn. Butchers congregated along Hang Ga (Chicken Street); fishmongers on Hang Ca (Fish Street); tinsmiths on Hang Thiec (Tin Street).
Of course, changing times invariably mean changing economies: few street names now reflect their ancient trades. For example, the last carved wooden pipes were made on Hang Dieu (Pipe Street) in the 1950s. Now it’s more of a place for mattresses and bedding.
Hang Gai (Hemp Street) has a number of silk and souvenir shops, but nothing resembling a rope-maker. But who needs rope when you can buy hand-painted bamboo window blinds for $12 and intricately carved wooden panels of the four seasons for $10 a panel? Other goodies include hand-embroidered tablecloths, horn-handled cutlery, and threadwork pictures.
No drums on Hang Trong (Drum Street), but you’ll find lacquered stone paperweights and small boxes for less than $2. When couples get engaged, it’s traditional for the prospective groom’s family to gift the bride’s parents with round lacquered boxes. Usually red, they’ll be filled with tea, nuts, and small cakes.
Lacquerware is another product where quality can vary immensely. For four similar-sized lacquered wall panels depicting Vietnam’s four "holy creatures" (dragon, unicorn, tortoise, phoenix) in mother-of-pearl, various shops quoted prices between $60 and $300. I later bought a set direct from a Saigon lacquerware workshop for $130, but that’s another story.
Not all has changed within Hanoi’s 36 Streets. Locals continue buying medicinal herbs, powders, and other curious-looking remedies on Lan Ong Street, named after a renowned traditional medicine doctor. You’ll still find jewelers and engravers on Hang Bac (Silver Street) where a silver ingot factory was set up in the 15th century. Mat makers display their wares along Hang Chieu (Mat Street), and plenty more silken treasures await on Hang Dao (Silk Dyers Street).
A few shops sell original and reproduction posters of the Communist struggle carrying inspirational messages from Uncle Ho. I couldn’t tell if it was original, but I was taken by one propaganda poster avowing "Culture, Literature and Art are also a battlefront, and you are fighters on that front." Well, that’s until I discovered the shopkeeper wouldn’t drop her price from a most un-comradely $18.
Junks and dragons
As dragon lairs go, you won’t find a more spectacular lair than Ha Long Bay. Three hours from Hanoi, on the Gulf of Tonkin, it deserves to be portrayed on one of those "Here be Dragons" maps. Like a theater curtain, the sea mists part to reveal a stage-set of bizarrely-shaped limestone crags and pillars…of islands with plunging cliffs and ridges of toothed mountains.
Seascapes like these struck a mythic chord with Vietnamese storytellers. Ha Long means "dragon descending" and the most famous tale has a dragon swooping down from heaven to help the Vietnamese defend against Chinese invaders. It spat out jade, pearls, and emeralds which turned into a defensive barrier of islands and rock formations. Thoroughly impressed by its creation, the dragon decided to make its home here.
Most accounts say 1,969 jigsaw pieces are in the archipelago; others put the number of crags and islands at 3,000. Whatever the total, views are otherworldly and floating fish villages only add to the storybook feel. So, too, do the women with their conical-hats, who row bamboo coracles laden with cargoes of fruit and beer. And the best way to see it all is in an old-fashioned junk.
Converted into tourist pleasure-boats, the junks follow various routes around the bay. Ours stopped at Hang Dau Go, Grotto of the Wooden Stakes, a cave with stalactites and stalagmites illuminated in eerie goblin colors. Just where you would expect a dragon to make its treasure-stuffed lair. But don’t expect to get through its chambers in a hurry-most Vietnamese visitors insist on getting photographed every couple of minutes.
This day excursion was through Hanoi’s Sinh Café (18 Luong Van Can) whose group trips are $21 per person. The price includes coach transport to Bai Chay waterfront, four hour’s sailing in a Ha Long Bay junk, on-board lunch, and a visit to two caves. Other excursions offer a night on a junk or a stay on Cat Ba, the Bay’s largest island and a national park. You can take a public bus from Hanoi to Bai Chay and jump a junk for much less: I noticed the tickets our guide collected from the waterfront office were only 30,000 dong ($1.90) apiece.
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Do the math-you’ll feel like a millionaire! A hearty lunch of pho bo (beef noodle broth) costs $1.20 tops in most places. Sometimes it’s as low as 60 cents. On Trang Thi Street, manicures and pedicures are $1.20. A pack of Pall Mall cigarettes is 57 cents. It’s usually around the same for a Vietnamese coffee in a café; figure 25 cents for a plastic-stool sidewalk place. |
But whatever trip you choose, Ha Long Bay is no secret. During high season, around 500 converted junks churn a passage through these waters. If my experience counts for anything, you may have to scramble over three or four other junks to reach yours. Thankfully there’s always a helping hand.
Most fellow passengers were southern Vietnamese tourists. Over lunch (crab-filled spring rolls, tofu, chicken with cashew nuts, a large grouper fish, and rice) we shared a table with a friendly South Korean guy now living in Los Angeles and a newly married couple from Ho Chi Minh City. They ensured our chopsticks were kept filled with the choicest morsels of fish.
The best place to shop for ceramics
Another day excursion with Sinh Café is a visit to Bat Trang, Dong Ho, and Dong Ky villages. Can’t think why, but no other visitor was interested in this $30 (per person) tour. So instead of a minibus, we had a car with driver and a guide, a guy called Son. He makes this particular trip through the Red River delta’s rice paddies and brick kiln fields only twice a year, at most.
Well-known throughout Asia for its 500-year-old heritage of ceramic making, Bat Trang is around 12 miles from Hanoi. Around 300 small factories are in operation-every other household seems engaged in the business-and you may get pottery fatigue fairly quickly.
Of course, that’s unlikely if you’re considering importing vases, tea sets, rice bowls, etc. Dung-Hang ( e-mail: gomsuvando@fpt.vn) is a retailer and export wholesaler with a vast array of ceramics in traditional and modern designs. A normal shopper pays $10 for a set of six cups and a teapot. Buy 200 sets and the price plummets to $5 apiece.
Perhaps indicating changing times, only two of Dong Ho’s families continue their village’s long-standing heritage of folk art produced by woodcut blocks. Often depicting animals engaged in human activities (for example, a frog schoolteacher), these colorful pictures once decorated every house during Tet New Year celebrations. The paper is handmade and the colors used are natural: white comes from oyster shells, black from charred bamboo, blue from indigo, yellow from japonica flowers, and red from sapanwood.
Drinking tea, leafing through portfolios of pictures, learning the explanations of each animal proverb, we stayed far longer than planned. I bought a few pictures for a dollar apiece. When we were leaving, Mr. Nguyen Huu Qua gifted us another one of a dragon for New Year good luck.
Dong Ky’s traditions lie in carpentry. Many families are involved in producing lacquered furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl. But even with Son acting as interpreter, it was difficult getting any real clue about prices. The lowest quote for a gorgeous rosewood suite comprising two chairs, settee, coffee table, and two pedestal tables was $1,134, but we only had time for inquiries in two workshops. Doing business at a more leisurely pace may result in better prices.
None of the artisans I met spoke English. My guide Son says he’s willing to moonlight as an interpreter-he’d appreciate earning a bit more than the $5 Sinh Café pays for a day’s occasional guiding duties. You can call him on his cell-phone at: (0904)318-854; e-mail: vietland2cafe@yahoo.com . IL
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