Hanoi and Vietnam Concluded

Hotel Hell

Perhaps, the gods were punishing us for our one night in splendiferous luxury (at least, relatively speaking), as Melissa described in her last posting. We took a late flight from Hue to Hanoi, where we would spend the last three days of our time in Vietnam. I’m not a big fan of late night flights as when you arrive, you have no ability to get any sense of where you are or what the environment is like. However, it was really the only flight that worked for us. We arrived in Hanoi at around 11:00 pm and we’re picked up by our hotel, The Hanoi Paradise. Suffice it to say, this was no paradise. Choosing a hotel continues to be a bit of a puzzle for Melissa and me. Certainly, it’s easy if you’re going for all five star locales. However, when you’re trying to find the more reasonably priced boutiques, it’s a bit more perilous. It seems that the best thing to do is really to show up in a city and then look for a hotel. However, that’s simply not workable when you’re traveling with four and you have enough stuff to clothe Vietnam. So when we found a place in Hanoi that was ranked extraordinarily and consistently high on TripAdviser.com, we thought we had scored. Trip Adviser is a site where travelers rate their hotel experiences. We have learned that TripAdviser is only useful as one of many data points, it’s not to be relied on alone. There are a number of problems with it. First, there seems to be some risk that an unscrupulous hotel could find shills to throw up a bunch of bogus reviews. Second, there’s no baseline, meaning that you have no way of knowing if the reviewer is an 18 year old accustomed to austere accommodations. What may be excellent to the 18 year old backpacker may be sorely lacking for someone else (such as Melissa and me, and apparently, our kids). We arrived at the place and it appeared dreary to begin with, but we did not have much choice. We went to our room, which was also dreary and dirty (eg. footprints on the bath mat). However, the clincher, was when Maya exclaimed that there’s a rodent on the floor. This was troubling for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that it was not a rodent, but, in fact, a huge cockroach. Not sure which is worse. The hotel’s explanation was that “there are cockroaches in Vietnam.” I immediately got on the phone and called every five star hotel in Hanoi to no avail. So we had to suck it up, and spend the night. Melissa was annoyed at me, because I was so unable to hide my distaste that I was freaking the kids out. I could not sleep the entire night as every time I experienced any bodily sensation, I was convinced a cockroach was crawling on me. I guess I’m not quite as adaptable as I thought as I was. Oh well. Breakfast was not much better as there were an army of ants frolicking in the sugar bowl, and another infantry division of their compatriots marching up the wall. Needless to say, we got out of there quickly, and found a great little boutique, for $45/ night and we were all relieved.

Hanoi

Hanoi may be my favorite among the major cities that we have visited. It’s a compelling combination of Asian and French influences. This, of course, is true of much of Indochina, but the French influence, to me anyway, seemed the most prominent. The old quarter is a colossus of activity, with small maze-like streets containing everything from five star restaurants, to street vendors, to silk merchants, to old men sitting around smoking pipes that look awfully like bongs (or so I have been told). When you leave the old quarter, there are huge boulevards with wide sidewalks, dotted with cafes, very reminiscent of the Champs Elysee. The streets themselves are packed with cars and the ubiquitous motor bikes. The city has all the passion and dynamism of New York, without the claustrophobic feel, with, however, considerably more pollution. This is illustrated by the fact that almost all the locals wear face masks as they travel via motorbike, looking like they’re either rushing to perform surgery or about to hold you up. To our kids’ credit we basically spent three days walking all over the city, experiencing the sights, smells, sounds and tastes of Hanoi. We loved it.

Uncle Ho Under Glass

One of the most unusual things that we did was visit the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. We had tried to go the day before but learned that it’s only open from 8:00 to 11:00. I only mention this because it’s one fact, among many, that Melissa used to support her conspiracy theory, which I will describe a bit later. When you arrive at the area of the Mausoleum, which is a huge, foreboding gray building, you immediately notice the military presence. We were sternly instructed that we were not permitted to walk where we were walking and were directed, by severe humorless soldiers, where to go. We found the line and were amazed to see how long it was, at least a ¼ of a mile. It was also very diverse, including both Western and Eastern tourists. When you’re about 1/3 of the way from the entrance, you are instructed to leave large bags. Since, we did not have any, we were pointed toward security, equivalent to airport security. I was asked by a female security officer to tell her how many cameras we had. I showed her our camera and Maya’s camera, but I forgot that I was also holding Emma’s camera. When she discovered Emma’s camera in my bag, she looked at me incredulously, as if she thought I was trying to pull a fast one. We were then told to drop off our cameras. We did so and returned to the line. At this point the line was moving pretty quickly. We then approached the entrance to the Mausoleum. At this point, there was even more military presence. People were instructed to remove their hats and sunglasses. Melissa and I had to explain that our “very hip” transition glasses were necessary for us to see. I was instructed to remove my hands from my pockets. It was all so odd. However, none of this compared with the strangeness of the actual viewing. You enter the viewing site behind and to the right of Uncle Ho. The room is quite dark. The first thing that you see is a ghoulish, yellowish glow on his hands. As you walk further down the aisle, you see the same yellow glow on his face. You then take a left which essentially puts you right in front of him. And there he is, looking like an odd combination of your kindly uncle and something out of a Friday 13th movie. As I walked to the spot right in front of Uncle Ho, I stopped for a moment to take a closer look and was immediately and not so gently pushed forward by one of the guards. You then take another left, putting you on the other side of Ho and you move on and exit. The experience takes less than two minutes and has the feel of a Saturday Night Live skit. I kept waiting for Ho to stand up and say “Smile, You’re on Candid Camera.”

Melissa, as you may know, has some tendency towards conspiracy theories and she is convinced that the Uncle Ho on display is a wax figure. In fairness to Melissa, there is ample evidence to support this and she is not the first to suggest it: the Mausoleum is open for limited hours to keep the lines long; the light in the mausoleum is low; the security far exceeds what one would think necessary under the circumstances; once you’re inside, they keep the line moving quickly; and they push you along if you stop even for a brief moment while viewing Uncle Ho. It seems to suggest that “they” have something to hide. Who knows? who cares? Nonetheless, it was certainly an interesting morning.

An American In Vietnam

I was confronted with two sets of feelings as I traveled around the countries of Indochina: Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam.

First, it’s impossible to travel around Southeast Asia and not think about the US’s checkered past with respect to the countries of Indochina. The more I learn about US policies with regard to the countries during the Cold War period, the more disgusted I am. While Vietnam had removed the Khmer Rouge from power in 1979, until 1982, the UN continued to view the Khmer Rouge as the legitimate government of Cambodia. The Khmer Rouge was perhaps the most genocidal group of thugs since the Nazis, but because they were aligned with China, as opposed to the Soviet Union (and it’s ostensible puppet, Vietnam), the US refused to do anything even in the face of incontrovertible evidence of their atrocities. Our war in Vietnam, much like the current war in Iraq, was initiated on the basis of lies and factual manipulations, predicated on a theory of communist world domination that would be funny, if not so many people had died in furtherance of such theory. Cambodia and Laos had essentially become the region’s whipping boys, used and manipulated in any way that the stronger powers felt was appropriate. I certainly understand, indeed grew up experiencing, the fears associated with the Cold War. However, US action in furtherance of its Cold War strategy was so perversely Machiavellian as to be simply horrifying.

Second, as you travel through Vietnam, you see significant amounts of Vietnamese propaganda trumpeting their various military victories, including their victory over the United States. It is worth noting that the Vietnamese, themselves, are extraordinarily warm and friendly. You only see the propaganda relating to the war at official sites. The visit to the Cu Chi Tunnels, near Saigon, is a particularly stirring experience. The Cu Chi Tunnels are these vast networks of underground tunnels used by the Viet Cong to attack US troops. The area is now one of the top tourist sites. First, you see this grainy, circa 1975, movie, which is just a bad propaganda film that I found somewhat laughable. However, you are then shown the various instrumentalities of death used against the American GI’s. There are also many photos, with captions such as “American GIs running from the victorious Vietnam Army.” At the same time, I recently read Tim O’Brien’s stunning Vietnam memoir, “If I Die in a Combat Zone.” The horrors that our GI’s suffered both in Vietnam and upon their return to a largely ungrateful country were innumerable. Having grown up with a vaguely arrogant sense that “people like me” did not join the military, I came away with not only a renewed sense of horror over America’s behavior in Vietnam, but also a profound sense of guilt about my arrogance and a greatly enhanced gratitude for those who serve their country.

Our only regret about Vietnam is that we did not get to spend more in this amazing country.

Next up—Bali.