Hanoi is a big, loud, crowded and mildly chaotic city. I like it. Don't love it, but like it. I'll end up being here on and off for a little less then two weeks and in that time I'll have stayed in a total of 6 rooms in 3 guest houses..... as long as there are no moves in my last few days. This shot was taken from the balcony of one of the four rooms I've stayed in at my current guest house. When I got back from Halong, the room that was supposed to be reserved for me was taken, but the manager desperately wanted me to stay knowing I planned on close to another week at his place. He talked me into taking his cramped quarters, on the top (6th) floor, decorated with stuffed animals and a strange poster of a naked baby, for half price. I refused over and over, but he was adamant, and I of course relented. It wasn't until breakfast the next morning that I found out that he wasn't alone on the mattress in the lobby, he evidently has a 3 months pregnant wife who had also been displaced for the night. My embarrassment was tangible. I apologized to her and admonished him for not telling me the extent of the situation. They both laughed- happy to have retained my business. Where am I?
The Ho Chi Min mausoleum and museum complex is definitely my favorite of the museums I've visited here. The walk through the mausoleum to view the remains of Vietnam's much revered modern founding father, is a highly structured and massively chaperoned process. Two single file lines wind you through the complex until you become one line inside the building, led by a significant military presence. No bags inside, no photos, no talking, no hands in your pockets, and definitely no stopping in front of the body. Move it along folks. The museum is much livelier with wildly impressionistic displays, including the one above. Louis Armstrong, the Guggenheim and a replica Ford Edsel in a museum dedicated to Ho Chi Min; WHY NOT?
How varied are the displays at the museum? Here are New Year's (1952-1954) cards from Uncle Ho. They really do have it all here.
Tay Ho Pagoda was the scene of my new favorite cultural tidbit. These folks are burning replica money so that their deceased loved ones can get paid in the after-life. Evidently it ain't cheap on the other side. Apparently ancestors often appear in dreams with specific requests (doesn't anyone just drop in to say hi without an agenda anymore?) that the living then adhere to. This leads to offerings of not only cash, but you guessed it, beer and orangina as well.
Dropped by the Hanoi Hilton as well. Sure its not the Ritz, but it didn't seem so bad to me.
After the great experience in Saigon I figured I'd get a little touch up on the Hanoi streets. Disappointment city. Evidently 'trim' doesn't translate as well in the north. He took me down to something close to a five o'clock shadow, except for the sweet fu manchu that he left intact (sadly the camera was already put away). I laughed, he put away his clippers, then I frantically got across that the mustache had to go. The beard gets a do-over. We'll see how street barbers in India listen to directions.
Hanoi is a big, loud, crowded and mildly chaotic city. I like it. Don't love it, but like it. I'll end up being here on and off for a little less then two weeks and in that time I'll have stayed in a total of 6 rooms in 3 guest houses..... as long as there are no moves in my last few days. This shot was taken from the balcony of one of the four rooms I've stayed in at my current guest house. When I got back from Halong, the room that was supposed to be reserved for me was taken, but the manager desperately wanted me to stay knowing I planned on close to another week at his place. He talked me into taking his cramped quarters, on the top (6th) floor, decorated with stuffed animals and a strange poster of a naked baby, for half price. I refused over and over, but he was adamant, and I of course relented. It wasn't until breakfast the next morning that I found out that he wasn't alone on the mattress in the lobby, he evidently has a 3 months pregnant wife who had also been displaced for the night. My embarrassment was tangible. I apologized to her and admonished him for not telling me the extent of the situation. They both laughed- happy to have retained my business. Where am I?
The Ho Chi Min mausoleum and museum complex is definitely my favorite of the museums I've visited here. The walk through the mausoleum to view the remains of Vietnam's much revered modern founding father, is a highly structured and massively chaperoned process. Two single file lines wind you through the complex until you become one line inside the building, led by a significant military presence. No bags inside, no photos, no talking, no hands in your pockets, and definitely no stopping in front of the body. Move it along folks. The museum is much livelier with wildly impressionistic displays, including the one above. Louis Armstrong, the Guggenheim and a replica Ford Edsel in a museum dedicated to Ho Chi Min; WHY NOT?
How varied are the displays at the museum? Here are New Year's (1952-1954) cards from Uncle Ho. They really do have it all here.
Tay Ho Pagoda was the scene of my new favorite cultural tidbit. These folks are burning replica money so that their deceased loved ones can get paid in the after-life. Evidently it ain't cheap on the other side. Apparently ancestors often appear in dreams with specific requests (doesn't anyone just drop in to say hi without an agenda anymore?) that the living then adhere to. This leads to offerings of not only cash, but you guessed it, beer and orangina as well.
Dropped by the Hanoi Hilton as well. Sure its not the Ritz, but it didn't seem so bad to me.
After the great experience in Saigon I figured I'd get a little touch up on the Hanoi streets. Disappointment city. Evidently 'trim' doesn't translate as well in the north. He took me down to something close to a five o'clock shadow, except for the sweet fu manchu that he left intact (sadly the camera was already put away). I laughed, he put away his clippers, then I frantically got across that the mustache had to go. The beard gets a do-over. We'll see how street barbers in India listen to directions.
1 comment:
When are you coming home? I miss you.
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