Our hotel, the Golden Legend, in the heart of the Old Quarter was a haven amongst the chaotic city. We were met at the car and called by name by Jenny, the lovely receptionist, then given refreshing watermelon juice. She talked with us for about fifteen minutes going over a very detailed map and pointing out highlights for us. Because of the heat and the chaos, we ended up spending a bit more time in our hotel room than is typical for us, but I can't say enough nice things about the staff. Our home away from home was always a pleasure to come "home" to.
Our senses were so overloaded after our drive in that we just opted to stay inside the room, locking the outside world outside until we could face the city in daylight. Finding a cheesy, English chick-flick was a welcome gift for our evening in.
Face the city, we did. The next morning we ventured out toward a couple larger tourist attractions. Once we navigated crossing roads, we made it to the Citadel. In reading about this old city within the city, the old military capital that dates back to over 1,000 years ago, I expected to see more than we did. It was a pretty, quiet retreat within the city, but the buildings were fairly modern and there were few signs explaining the history of this place. We found a similar situation at the Temple of Literature, the first university in the country where students had been studying for nearly 1,000 years. Statues of Confucius and stone tablets marking early scholars dot the grounds, but otherwise, we just enjoyed the architecture of the few small buildings that made up the campus.
Our walking tour of the city continued walking by the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and Museum and a tiny little pagoda or temple in the shape of a lotus flower.
Men in full military wear guarded the mausoleum and presidential palace, but don't worry, we were on our best behavior. We wandered to the road that cuts the larger lake into two, getting a good view of the extensive city, but disappointed by the trash and smells along the way.
Jenny had recommended the Women's Museum, a five story history of Vietnamese women. We enjoyed learning more about local marriage and clothing customs, many differed greatly in the hill tribes. Most impressive were the stories of the women fighters who had courageously fought in the many wars this country has seen in the last century. There were military, including guerilla groups made up entirely of women fighting both for freedom from the French and in the American war. Statistics were astounding, and this country is obviously appreciative of its female warriors.
In the evening, we went on a Hanoi Street Food tour. We had so enjoyed the one in Chiang Mai, and this one, too, did not disappoint. Mimi, our guide and mother duck to her five tourists, was great. She is twenty and is in school studying tourism, so she loved learning from us just as we enjoyed learning from her.
We tried about eight different items, and I'm not sure I could choose a favorite. Two of the dishes were meats (pork and beef) with noodles in a broth. We added our own mint leaves, lime juice, garlic and chili peppers to perfect the taste to our tastebuds. We enjoyed pork and mushrooms in rice paper (that we "helped" to make), crab spring rolls, coffee with egg topping, and desserts of doughnuts, sticky rice ice cream and black rice with yogurt. I'm so glad we did this because we got to try so many great foods and we went into places we never would have entered, like this place:
Under that bright red banner, the alley-looking entrance, we went in there, walked up a flight of stairs and had some amazing fried foods. Hanoi has some delicious foods to offer, there are no two ways about that, but figuring out where to go and how to get there is quite the trick.The next day we started with a visit to Hoa Lo Prison known to many as "Hanoi Hilton." Jenny had warned us that it did not paint a pretty picture of America, but we felt it was something important we needed to see. The prison was built by the French in the late 1800s. For many years, the prison housed Vietnamese who were fighting to gain their independence from France. Resistance was strong, and the rebels fought hard for control of their own country. Conditions in the prison must have been horrendous, especially the isolated holding cells where death-row inmates waited for the guillotine and the holding cells for those tough, rebellious women.
Then, we came to the American War (yes, that's the same one we call the Vietnam War). I feel like I need to give a disclaimer here. I know very little about this war. Some of my students were reading a book about the Vietnam War this year and I had to do some research to give them some background information. I realize this war was not that long before my time, a generation older than me knew the horrors of this war all too well. What I understand most about it was how horrific the fighting was and how difficult it was to fight a war in the way it was fought in this terrain. (Seeing the tropical terrain and limestone peaks, I truly cannot imagine.) Seeing the prison was difficult, especially seeing the hatred that was portrayed toward my own country. But I also know that history books are not universal. All countries tend to write their own story in a favorable way, a sort of rose-colored glasses view of their own country. The truth is probably somewhere in between. However, I know in saying all of this that I know people who fought here or who had close family members who fought here and I in no way want to discredit the service they gave to our country.
The "Hanoi Hilton" displayed pictures, videos and stories about American bombs targeting churches, schools and hospitals. They displayed photos of planes that were shot down, including Senator John McCain's plane. His pilot suit is even on display in the museum. (He did not have my vote back in 2008, but he certainly has my respect, even more so after this trip.) Photos of the "Hanoi Hilton" showed American pilots being treated by physicians, playing basketball and ping-pong, decorating Christmas trees and other similar activities with smiles on their faces. Obviously, loosing your freedom while fighting for your country is horrible, no matter what, but these images in no way matched what I found with a little researching. Wikipedia discusses extreme torture methods that happened here at the Hanoi Hilton. I wasn't there. I don't know what really happened, but it was a great reminder that history books are written by people and we all add our own bias, even if unintentionally.
After a sobering morning, we wandered around the small lake in the center of the Old Quarter. It's steeped in legend about a turtle who carried a magical sword an emporer used to defeat the Chinese down into the depths of the lake. There's even a temple on island in the lake to commemorate this.
This even was highlighted in our evening performance of the Water Puppets, a special Hanoi tradition. Musicians played traditional instruments and sang folk songs while puppeteers from behind a screen operated puppets that came out and performed in the water.
The short skits were traditional folk stories. My favorite ones involved the four holy beasts of Vietnamese culture: phoenix, dragon, turtle and a sort of unicorn-like creature. Beautiful, simple, and cheesy, but it was a great way to spend our evening.
We found a crowded corner and went to a restaurant on the 4th floor so that we could watch the traffic pass by in awe and amazement. I told Jessica that I couldn't even compare it to ants as they tend to move in logical, methodical lines. She agreed, but suggested it was more like ants right after you disturbed their home. Yep, much more accurate.
Hanoi is a charming city with fun shopping, a young, vibrant, lively feel, but it wore us out, in large part because our senses were overloaded. Smells wafting from the streets of fried doughnuts, trash, and fresh meals being prepared confused our olfactory sense. Constant car horns, sales people convincing us to buy their goods, taxi drivers offering rides, men and women gossiping on corners made for a very loud city. As for touch, the many silk scarves were much more pleasant than the brush of strangers on crowded corners and pushy sales people. Taste was the sense that never once was disappointed: pho, garlic fried rice, doughnuts, spring rolls and banana crepes with honey. Our eyes though. It was impossible for them to take in everything around us: women carrying baskets on their heads, spoiled precious poodles being carried, babies standing up on scooters, women carrying baskets on either end of a bamboo pole, masses of people, colorful trinkets for sale and endless wonders in a new city.
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