Hanoi, January 9 - Hoa Lo Prison, and Escape to Laos.

This journey is not easy to peg.  Just when I think it's a vacation, or a simple joyous school reunion, things take a turn down a new, shadowy path.  Not all of us went on the tour into Hoa Lo Prison (in dark humor, the "Hanoi Hilton"), and one decided not to enter when we arrived.  For him, it was personal. 


Most of the prison has been torn down since the Vietnam War.  We are touring the section that remains as an historical site.  
                                                               

 

What now remains of Hoa Lo Prison

    Below is a plaque that introduces us to the story as it is told here in Hanoi.  Reading the plaque itself is better than my telling it.  It suffices to say that this hell-hole has many ghosts, and most were not American.   Throughout this tour, there was much writing and video of the war told through Vietnamese eyes.   L reminded us early on in the written itinerary that we are not asked to accept it all, but to remember we are guests, and act accordingly.  It never hurts to try on the shoes of others, and walk for a bit, even if you go back to your own shoes later.  
                                                                

 There were many photos like this one.  Actual shots, and art work created from them.   There were tools of torture laid out, and once section just for what happened to women; not all of those torture tools were described, which was fine with me.  


All of these tools were French made, including the guillotine below.  It's not a copy, and there were at least two of them that I saw.


Off hallways like the one below, were cells, virtually windowless, very small.  We were there on a cool, cloudy January day.  I could only imagine this with 100 degree heat, humidity, and stench.

                                                                                                                                             


















This Sewer Door is famous now, because it is the famed escape route of over 100 political prisoners in March, 1945, who then participated in the anti-Japanese insurgency August of 1945.  
                                                                                                                                     

These two photo placards demonstrated U.S. anti-war protests in the mid to late 1960's (above), and protests in Europe as well. (Below)

Below, the Vietnamese version of how our pilots were treated.  John McCain has been here, as a visiting former prisoner.  Not an easy thing to do, I can only imagine.

And for teachers, or historians, or people who just want to walk a little further, here are a couple of videos that I took with my camera, trying to capture the video looping in Hoa Lo.  These tell the story of the war from the Vietnamese point of view, and the second one is the story of capture of American pilots.
I apologize for the amateurish quality, I rushed it, as the bus was leaving.  

And as we walk out, our last vision - this wall of pain.  It extended around the long side of the museum.  Looking up above the wall, we can see the high-rise hotel for people who come to tour.  A great deal to digest, here - but we are all very thankful that this place is not now what it once was.

And now, it's time to go home! Well, one of the places we call home, the reason we are here - Laos!  After the somber morning, we head for the airport, and jump onto our Lao Airlines flight.  Just that thought alone, Laos having its own airline!   Vientiane, here we come!  For me, it's been over 40 years . . .

Hanoi, Jan 8 - The Sword in the Lake and Uncle Ho

Today, on a walking tour, we visit the Confucian and Taoist  Ngoc Son Temple, at Hoan Kiem lake in central Hanoi.  This spot has been sacred since time out of mind - complete with a magic sword, which Emperor Le Loi gave back to the Golden Turtle God in the lake, after his victory against Chinese Ming Dynasty.  The Temple was built to honor 13th century leader Tran Hung Dao, who also fought off the Chinese.  

Good to know, considering our recent reaching out to Vietnam, partly to make a point to the Chinese . . .

And there are turtles there.  REALLY BIG ones, endangered soft-shell Rafetus swinhoei for you critter buffs out there.   The bridge to the temple is beautiful, and many people are leaving joss sticks to take smokey prayers to the gods.

 So far, religion in the form of Taoist and Confucian beliefs seems very strong here, woven into every day life.  We visited several sites dedicated to Confucian teaching, and scholarship.  Education is the goal of every guide we met, here and in Laos and Cambodia as well.  Much sacrifice goes into getting kids into higher education, and young people work very hard and patiently for that goal.

Jules and me on the bridge to Ngoc Son.






And what god would turn down an 
Oreo cookie offering?
Much less White
Castle?


Below, our fearless leader L, with
the cadres at Ngoc Son.  To the right is K.  Their stories will make this trip a much deeper pilgrimage for us all.         
                                                                                     
  


                                         








 
    And on to the next stop - The Tomb of Ho Chi Minh, Father of the Land. 

Ho Chi Minh, according to our guide, Jahn, never wanted this tomb.
  

Changing of the Guard

 He would prefer to have been cremated, as was customary, but the Russians had a different take on things.  When Uncle Ho died, he was installed in this gigantic Russian style tomb.  Then, from September to November every year, Ho makes a journey to Russia to have his remains "re-furbished".  The tomb is closed to the public during this re-tooling, and then Ho comes back again.  

Jahn was extremely helpful helping us understand one of the common views of his government in Vietnam today.  He told us that his goal was to go to college for nursing, and to work with the elderly.  He feels the government is not helping or giving respect to the old, as tradition requires, but he was not permitted to leave the country to pursue that education.  He said, rather vaguely, that the government's roadblock had something to do with his family's history.

For now, he is working as a tour guide to improve his English (which was excellent) and learn more about history.

Jahn says that the country's troubles with Agent Orange are still severe.  This defoliant, used by the Americans to destroy the triple-canopy enemy-concealing jungle during the war, is extremely toxic.  Birth defects, cancer rates, and other diseases still affect the people, several generations on.  There is a village in the north somewhere of about 60,000 where many are cared for, with special services for them.  The land itself still suffers, and there are places where nothing grows.

Russian Realism, still all the rage.

We learn that there is a drug use problem.  Meth, in particular, is becoming an issue. The AIDS rate is higher than it should be - Jahn insists this is due to needle use, and does not discuss any other cause.

Jahn feels that the nation's biggest problem now is corruption.  Communism is still the government's guiding philosophy, but not on the economic side any longer.  One party rule - but in the name of making money, says Jahn.  There is construction everywhere, and old traditions are falling by the wayside in the path of modernization. The government used to really work for the people, and everyone pulled together, but greed is now rampant in the controlling government.  He disapproves this deterioration of the Communist ideal, and doesn't trust his government.

The environment suffers.  The Red River is lower than it should be, according to Jahn.  The Chinese are damming it upstream for hydroelectric power.  Relations with the Chinese are always tense.  The Vietnamese are proud and independent, and revere Ho as their first great father (Uncle Ho), and Ho Chi Minh never intended Vietnam to be a pawn of their powerful northern neighbor.  

We also tour today at Ho's  palace.  Gradually, he moved from the palace to a series of  more humble abodes on the grounds, finally staying in a very pleasant simple open wooden structure.  He was a car buff, and several of his 1950's sedans are on display. 


 I like to think that during Ho's time here, the peacock was able to roam free.  Now, it seems the bureaucracy has made a rule against that.

Tomorrow, we head for our final destination in Hanoi - Hoa Lo Prison, also known as the "Hanoi Hilton".  I hear that not all of us will enter those gates, and I am reminded that some of us were not kids, but were soldiers here. 

Hanoi, Jan 7, 2012 - Good Morning, Vietnam!

It's still really hard to say just "Vietnam". Old school, I keep saying "North..." 


Waking up at the Dolce Vita hotel in the Old Quarter, I smell faint woodsmoke.  It's barely dawn, but I hear singing from the Tai Chi group starting up in the park nearby.  We are finally back in Southeast Asia, a small but mighty group of about 18 American School of Vientiane alumni, from all parts, and walks of life.  Tony C, from Shanghai, will meet us here.  Others will meet up with us in Vientiane, and Luang Prabang.  I'll share a few of their stories here as well - some real eye-openers.


I'm just getting to know these folks, but they are not strangers.  We have this common bond that makes it all very easy.  Different views on politics, religion or other hot-button issues don't seem to matter here - we all feel the world is a really large place, and our personal opinions tend to pale in the face of its enormity and infinite variety of beliefs and realities.  Maybe it's a TCK thing -   Third Culture Kids - on the road again!



We start today with Old Quarter exploration.  Ever wonder where all your STUFF comes from?  That "Made in Vietnam" tag in your t-shirt?  And it's cheap.  VERY cheap.  Jules, my dear friend and travel buddy, is on a mission to find beads for the salsa dancing outfits her competitive dance group needs.  Incredibly, they are here, in bulk, just down the street from our hotel.  A whole avenue dedicated to beads.  Then the cloth street, the leather street, and on and              
                                                             on!

Moving through these streets is our first taste of Southeast Asia traffic.   It’s like a busy reef, and if you stay with your fish school you won’t get picked off as you cross.  The motion is constant, like a current wash.  The motorbikes all move as one, never touching, always almost.  It's a steady, slow stream that moves forward, eddies, swirls, gets blocked as a stream might by fallen branches in the water - very organic in feel.  The constant sound of motorcycles gently beeping and humming along was like cicadas in the summer; you stop hearing it after awhile.

And I do mean "taste" of the city traffic.  The exhaust and the street food leave a film in my nose that never really goes away.  It's permanently linked in my mind with the grey non-sky, the mist, and the chilly damp that has us buying colorful cheap scarves.

Mmm!  Durian! (Illegal in the hotel - smells
not so good!

Kumquat trees on the move

   It's been a long first day.  Writing? Forget it.  Obviously, it had to wait.  Tomorrow, Jahn will take us touring, and our feet will catch a break.