Vietnam - Living with History

Hanoi, Vietnam.

To those of us old enough, it is a city laden with societal memories. I arrived here three days ago with the flickering television images of that now distant war as the baseline for my knowledge of the place. But that was more than 50 years ago, longer still for others. A time before most of the population here was alive!

Anyway, my first encounters have been eye opening to say the least.

The first reaction is that it is a city in constant motion. There is a ceaseless energy about the place. And what a stark contrast to my last stop, Hong Kong. There it was all about order and being tidy. Even the street scenes had an aura of some plan.

Here, no such sensibility exists.

When I first set out to explore, my initial challenge was crossing the street. There is wave after wave of motorbikes and nary a street sign or any adherence to anything resembling traffic laws. After standing still I observed that those who crossed simply plunged in. No mad dashing, no rush at all and seeming to even ignore their coming demise. Instead there is an understood methodology. A slow and sanguine stroll. It takes a leap of faith but here I am still.

I am staying in the old quarter. From my vantage it is hard to tell what qualifies it for that brand except that the streets are narrower than the other slightly less narrow streets I’ve encountered. My meandering has been inhibited by the absence of sidewalks. They are all taken up by the parked motorbikes which occupy every available inch. So there is no languid strolling to be done, just a constant bob and weave from this perch to the next, in and out of traffic.

In terms of sites, my first destination, as it happened, was the Military History museum. It is a fascinating place, in a tragic kind of way. This is a nation that in some form or fashion has been involved in conflicts for centuries. Our own war in Vietnam came on the heels of their fight for independence from France in the devolution of Indochina.

Not surprisingly a floor of the museum is devoted to the war with the United States.

I did not delve too deeply into those artifacts. The centerpiece of the museum is a massive statue outside. It is made up of various pieces of wreckage from US military aircraft shot down during the conflict.

Walking around it was quite haunting. It felt odd to see various tourists from China and Korea taking selfies in front of it.

The museum is en route to what is described by Google as the “John McCain Memorial” on Hoy Tay lake in the center of the city. It is not, as it turns out, a memorial to the late Senator and Naval aviator. Instead it is a salute, of sorts, to the gunner who shot him down.

In some ways this contradiction is more broadly reflected across the city. This is the capital city of a nation that withstood the US military might for nearly twenty years. The man at the helm of that lies in a perpetual state in his own mausoleum, a la Lenin (also the name of a nearby park…but I digress). Ho Chi Minh is a hero here and the ever present hammer and sickle is there to remind that this remains, on paper anyway, a communist country.

Now, for those of you wearing clothes or sitting on furniture that proudly boasts, “Made in Vietnam” make no mistake, the ‘ism’ that is very much at home here is capitalism.

The streets are heaving with it. I am not sure where everyone is going but make no mistake they are selling. As I walk around there is business happening at every level, most of it, to be fair, very much street level. Food markets, junk markets, nail and hair salons, furniture and electronics, clothing, motorbikes, of course and heaven help me, cafes every 18 inches!

History is a teacher, and I like to think I am a student. In my brief window of time here I marvel at the country's capacity to move forward while maintaining their enduring grip on history.