http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/travel/2009800597_trvietnam06.html
Late afternoon, and the sun has burnished the lotus blossoms a deep,
rich gold. I am alone except for a phalanx of stone warriors in Hue...
By SUSAN TAYLOR MARTIN
St. Petersburg Times
Late afternoon, and the sun has burnished the lotus blossoms a deep,
rich gold. I am alone except for a phalanx of stone warriors in Hue,
Vietnam, forever guarding the emperor on his journey to the afterworld.
It was this serene, lovely place that the Emperor Minh Mang chose as
the site for his tomb. Before he expired in 1841, the scholarly
monarch often sat by the lake, writing poetry and, as a small plaque
says, "beholding scenery."
Vietnam's natural beauty continually entices, from the karst islands
of Ha Long Bay with their phantasmagorical shapes to the broad rivers
flowing past lush tropical forests and rice fields of preternatural green.
Even as they slogged their way through an ultimately pointless war,
American soldiers often marveled at the beauty around them. Now, more
than a quarter of a century later, thousands of Americans are
returning as tourists to a country so far removed yet so much a part
of their own lives and of modern U.S. history.
Then there are first-time visitors like me. During a 10-day trip, I
quickly realized why this still affordable country has become one of
Asia's most popular destinations.
There is perhaps no better place to start than in Hanoi, the capital
and sometime home of Vietnam's revolutionary leader, Ho Chi Minh. He
was originally called Nguyen Sinh Cung but used dozens of names as he
wandered from London to Paris to Moscow to Shanghai, searching for an
ideological alternative to capitalism as practiced by corrupt colonial rulers.
He eventually settled on communism, although Ho Chi Minh said at
heart he only wanted independence for his people. "It is patriotism,
not communism, that inspired me," he famously said.
Today, Hanoi is Uncle Ho's town. A must-see is the Ho Chi Minh
Museum, a striking edifice opened in 1990 that chronicles his life
through photographs, newspaper clippings and a wealth of personal
items, including his alarm clock, forever stopped at the exact time
of his death in 1969 at age 79.
Nearby is the mustard-yellow Presidential Palace, once the official
residence of Indochina's French governors. When North Vietnam won
independence in 1954, Ho refused to move in, opting to stay in the
gardener's quarters, then building a small stilt house overlooking a
carp-filled lake.
You can still see the Royal typewriter on which he purportedly pecked
out Vietnam's declaration of independence.
And you can still see Uncle Ho himself. Most mornings at 10, hundreds
of visitors line up single file outside the enormous gray mausoleum
that its humble occupant undoubtedly would have hated.
Vietnam being a fairly regimented country, anyone straying outside
the line is politely but firmly nudged back into place by the
ever-present guards. Then it's into the dimly lit tomb for a quick
look at Ho's waxen corpse.
The mausoleum is in a section of Hanoi notable for its grandiose
buildings and broad boulevards. Other areas are more intimate and
walkable, assuming you can make it across the street without getting
hit by one of Vietnam's 22 million motorbikes.
The city has many parks and lakes, including the one that Lt. Cmdr.
John McCain ended up in when his Navy jet was shot down in 1967
during the Vietnam War.
His flight suit and parachute are on display at Hao Lo Prison, where
the French once tortured Vietnamese revolutionaries and where the
Vietnamese in turn tortured McCain and scores of other captive American pilots.
There's a good bit of propagandizing at Hao Lo from the photos on
exhibit. You'd think the Americans spent their days happily playing
cards and decorating Christmas trees.
A different view
From Hanoi it was on to Hue, the imperial city once home to
Vietnam's emperors. I stayed in the Saigon Morin hotel, a splendid
example of colonial architecture whose airy rooms have high ceilings
and wrought-iron balconies.
It is easy to see why Hue is so popular with Vietnamese and
foreigners alike. In the soft light of dawn, before motorbikes clog
the streets and assault the eardrums, you can stroll along the
Perfume River and watch early-risers do their graceful tai chi exercises.
As the sun rises, the river becomes a busy water highway plied by
fishing vessels and colorful dragon boats chugging past huge floating
sculptures shaped like lotus blossoms.
Hue is a United Nations World Heritage site, so designated because of
its magnificent royal tombs and the Citadel, a 19th-century fortress
where costumed actors now re-create the grandeur of the imperial past.
In 1968, the city also was the site of one of the fiercest battles of
the Communist Tet Offensive, a major turning point of the war.
American forces recaptured Hue after nearly a month.
Remembering war
Today, few reminders of what Vietnamese call "the American War" are
to be found outside museums. The biggest is the War Remnants Museum
in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, where you'll find American
tanks, aircraft and replicas of the dark, cramped cells in which Viet
Cong prisoners were held. Photographs are displayed of Vietnamese
horribly disfigured by Agent Orange, a potent defoliant sprayed by
the U.S. military. All in all, however, I was disappointed in Saigon,
as almost everyone still calls it. Little remains of its romantically
tawdry colonial atmosphere. It's just another big, crowded Asian
city, though minus the striking skylines of Hong Kong and Shanghai.
Fortunately, one of the survivors of times past is Ben Thanh, the
giant indoor market that has been in operation since 1859. Sprawling
over an area the size of a Walmart, it's a fine place to buy
inexpensive Vietnamese silks and lacquerware.
After frenetic Saigon, it was good to move south to the delta of the
Mekong River, Vietnam's rice bowl. For just $20, we rented a sampan
and spent the next few hours gliding past floating markets and
through narrow tributaries where women and boys searched for scallops
in neck-deep water.
The maze of canals eventually led us to the mighty Mekong River
itself as thunderstorms built far off to west, signaling the start of
yet another monsoon season.
Thousands of Vietnamese and Americans once fought in this delta, but
it has long since settled back into the timeless rhythms of nature.
War, like the clouds, seemed very far away.
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