A Visit to Uncle Ho, Part II

In addition to the mausoleum, my group also toured the Ho Chi Minh museum, which was not what I expected (par for the course in this country). The entryway had a grand staircase that culminated with a giant statue of the man himself. Upstairs, the bulk of the museum seemed to focus on the times of Ho Chi Minh rather than the life. His years abroad, for example, were a rather confusing hodgepodge of images of the Western world from the time period of about 1880 to 1930, with a few images of the likes of Voltaire, hot air balloons and the US Declaration of Independence. Ho himself really didn't make an appearance, but this visual cacophony was meant to succinctly describe about thirty years of the leader's life.

Symbolism seemed to be the key. The American War (aka the Vietnam War to those who remain stateside) was represented by captured American equipment and old North Vietnamese weaponry. Ho's development of Communist ideology was represented by a sort of recreation of the cave he hid in during World War II. The struggle against fascism, which really didn't factor that largely into my reading of Ho's life, was represented with a partial 3-D depiction of Picasso's "Guernica." The museum seemed more dedicating to describing the struggle of the Vietnamese people according to the Party Line than to describing the life of Ho Chi Minh. In my mind, this depiction made the museum all the more fascinating a place to visit, especially as the vestiges of Communism become less and less prevalent in the post-Soviet world.

A Visit to Uncle Ho

This Saturday the group visited the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, which was a truly unique experience. The Vietnamese have a profound reverence for Ho. The West seems to view Ho Chi Minh only as a Communist, but to the Vietnamese he was a nationalist leader who freed the country for imperialist invaders. This dynamic is particularly important to the Vietnamese, who suffered for a thousand years under Chinese rule. Vietnamese independence is fiercely valued, and Uncle Ho is seen as having led to march to a home-ruled Vietnam.

Despite this emphasis on the nationalist side of Ho, there's no way anyone visiting his mausoleum or museum could possibly forget the leader's communist ideology. Red is splashed all over the compound (and yes, it is a compound), and hammers and sickles abound. The mausoleum itself isn't visible from the main entrance, which only adds to the mystique. The line wraps around the complex for a few hundred yards like lines for a roller coaster. Security is tight. Bags must be checked, and I had to go all the way to the beginning of the line when I foolishly forgot to leave my Swiss army knife at the door. Fortunately the line moves quickly.

Visitors to the mausoleum approach from the side. The building itself is quite formidable and is perhaps the size of the Lincoln Memorial. Military guards in crisp white uniforms patrol the ground, and stand unsmilingly. The line goes up a set of stairs and into the mausoleum itself. Visitors are asked to remove their hats, and my friend David was told to take his hand out of his pocket. Signs state that visitors must act in a solemn and respectful manner, but this doesn't seem necessary, as the Vietnamese themselves remain silent upon entering the tomb.

After going up some more stairs, we finally come to the man himself. Lying in a case in the center of a marble-walled room is the body of Ho Chi Minh. Visitors walk around case slowly. The body is displayed under a sort of eerie orange light. A red star and a gold hammer and sickle are inlaid into the marble wall behind the body. The body itself seems, well, a bit odd. To be fair, I can't claim to have much experience with people who have been dead nearly forty years, but Ho didn't seem quite right. Ho had a plastic kind of look to him. I don't want to make the accusation that the body was fake, or a wax dummy, but I must admit that such a revelation wouldn't shock me.

Perhaps more fascinating than the body itself was the Vietnamese reaction to it. Everyone was silent as we walked past; I felt like I was in a church. The reverence the Vietnamese show for Ho is incredible. This reverence translates awkwardly in the form of the Ho Chi Minh museum, but I'll write more on this next time.

Communism? What Communism?

Today the Fulbright group went to Big C, which is perhaps one of the biggest displays of capitalism and consumerism I have ever seen, certainly not the kind of thing one would expect to stumble upon in Hanoi. Big C is like a cross between Wal-Mart and a shopping mall. The complex rises three stories, looks quite modern. The bottom level has a definite mall feel, with rather fancy stores displaying pricey goods like watches, athletic shoes, and jewelry. The top layer is the Wal-Mart section. The store sold virtually everything, soap, electronics, clothing, motorbikes, camping gear, food, you name it. The top level had a small video arcade. In short, Big C would have fit quite nicely in the suburban America that I know so well.

To cap all of this consumerism off were several restaurants, including Legends Beer (a great place resembling a German beer hall that I'll describe in another post), Highlands Coffee (think Starbucks with a wider food menu), and, believe it or not, Pizza Hut, where our group had dinner.

Truth be told, capitalism seems to be popping out all over Hanoi. Stores line virtually every street and alley, their wares so multitudinous that they spill out onto the sidewalk. Banks and Western businesses are opening up all over the city, their names all over the high-rises that have gone up and are going up on the skyline. The Vietnamese seem to love to shop and haggle, and watching them do business at an open-air market is really quite a treat. Quite frankly, the Vietnamese seem more capitalist than us Americans.

I was told by Vietnamese friends back home to expect a lot of free market enterprises, and the news reports I read told the same story, so I can't say that I'm totally shocked. Still, seeing so much capitalism in a place where the hammer and sickle is still stylish is nonetheless surprising.

Not the Hanoi I Expected

I'm now living in the neighborhood of Cau Giay in West Hanoi. The University of Hanoi is close by, which makes the morning commutes through the sea of motorbikes short. The district follows along a boulevard, also named Cau Giay. Trendy clothing shops line the boulevard, and shopkeepers sport fashions that seem straight out of California or New York.

This trendy thoroughfare is only half of Cau Giay, however. Behind the flashy Western-style storefronts is an entirely different world. Tiny alleys wind and twist for miles. These alleys are also filled with stores, but these stores sell goods and services that seem more accustomed to the Hanoi I was expecting. Food stalls, Internet cafes, motorbike shops, barbers, and fruit stands line the alleys. There are so many shops selling what essentially seem like the same thing that I wonder how they all stay in business.

Having no real obligations today, I simply wandered around the alleys. I'm always amazed by how much is going on in the back streets, and thoroughly enjoy just taking it all in. The shopkeepers stared at me from their storefronts. They don't seem like they're used to seeing Westerners, especially big tall ones like myself. I've caught several Vietnamese raising their hands over their heads as I walk by, presumably referring to my height.

Tomorrow I go back to language training and orientation at the university. The language training has been slow, though I am happy to report that I can read a few key Vietnamese words. I now know that "xin chao" is hello, "tra" is tea, "xe buyt" is bus, and, of course, that "bia" is beer. Pronunciation is difficult, and most Vietnamese seem to have a hard time understanding what I'm saying. Still, I'm happy with any progress, and look forward to perhaps maybe possibly forming complete sentences in the next few weeks. I'll be happy if I can speak like a three-year-old in a couple of months.