Today was mostly a case of “Che Guevara’s pants”. The phrase derives from a museum in Cuba that was rather sparse on exhibits. The piece de resistance was the pair of pants that Che Guevara wore when he did something. I forget what. The phrase “Che Guevara’s pants” now refers to attractions that scrape the barrel.
Like, for example, Hanoi’s War Museum. Objects were well-displayed, but were bland, with few English explanations and no context. And they surpassed themselves with a digital display that showed you the exhibits of the room you were actually standing in:
Then they promised a “54-step spiral staircase”… but we weren’t allowed to go up:
The reconstructed aircraft, tanks and vehicles were good, though:
But the reconstructed crashed US fighter jet definitely stole the show:
Subjective reporting abounded (for instance, reports of US bombing only really mentioned the number of civilians killed) and no context or overview was ever given. Most of the museums I’ve gone to in Vietnam have started with detailed information, without giving the background and context. This makes it very difficult to piece things together.
After lots of Che Guevara’s pant-like exhibits, I was getting bored, to be honest. I know history is written by the victorious (and the rich), but the one-sidedness was so apparent, I felt I couldn’t really trust anything I was being told.
Ho Chi Minh’s (HCM) museum, I was hoping, would give me an insight into the man so revered by his country. Uh, no. Again, it was full of propaganda statements with little content, such as:
“The struggle against fascism throughout the world had a great influence on the revolutionary process of the Vietnamese people under Ho Chi Minh’s leadership.”
Finding out they affectionately call him “Uncle Ho” was probably the highlight of my visit. Oh, and seeing his pants:
I felt the museum curators had tried a little too hard to present things innovatively. For instance, this collection of photographs, and I quote ,”are presented here in the form of a human brain was President Ho Chi Minh’s headquarters from where he engineered the Vietnamese revolution in 1941 – 1946.” Er, human brain? Why? Where did that come from? I found it rather scary, to be honest.
Although this model of the tunnels (see Day 42) was effective:
Whilst there was a whole section of photographs of HCM addressing various people, I could find little about the man, his life, his metholodogies or ideologies. This was frustrating as I had some questions. For instance, when separated, HCM ruled South Vietnam from Saigon (I believe), but he was a communist (I think). But I thought the North were the communists trying to take over the South. It’s very complicated, even more so when Vietnamese tour guides are trying to explain it in English. When I get the chance, I’m going to do some proper research to understand what was really going on. I may be some time 😉
Anyway, there were two graphs that were very informative. The first showed Vietnam’s GDP, which was variable; the second showed income per capita:
Why is Vietnam now becoming more properous? Mostly because they’re not at war. And haven’t been for a sustained period of time, allowing them to focus on building the country (quite literally), rather than killing/not getting killed.
Walking back to the main gates, I saw this:
Really? Would people really play outside in the main square? It would seem so – this pavement was regularly punctuated with badminton courts down its entire length:
Then, later, I stumbled across an actual game being played (they were quite good, especially under the conditions):
And further down the road was the football version. I love they way they just like to play:
Oh, and very quickly, the One-Pillar Pagoda. Which is a pagoda built on one pillar (bet you didn’t predict that one):
Then a wander round the presidential palace:
With this really nicely-designed “outbuilding” which was, in fact, the study (and is only practical in a more temperate climate than the UK):
And back via Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum:
To get to the museum that morning, the map showed that I would cross the train tracks. My eyes sought a bridge, or tunnel, but could find neither where I was expecting one to be. Then I saw this:
Of course bridges and tunnels are expensive. Another first-world brain moment in the bag. But it was looking down the tracks that surprised me even more:
Almost like there weren’t there. But then with only a few trains passing through a day, most of the time they weren’t “there”.
Lunch was spent with Nam (which seems to be a popular male name here). I wandered off the tourist track to find a local cafe and he invited me to join him:
He seemed to epitomise the younger generation. Having studied data communciations at university, he wanted to get involved with environmental work so freelances and volunteers with charities helping to educate the population at large. Today he was in Hanoi (he lives in Da Nang) for an event which aimed to explain to Vietnamese why using elephant tusks for medicine is both misguided and wrong. In a highly superstitious culture, based on knowledge handed down through the generations, this poses challenges not encountered (or at least, less so) in the western world. He also wanted to get a Masters Degree, but outside Vietnam. Why outside? Because the education system here is broken – it’s so competitive (that’ll explain the English students so keen to speak to tourists) and pressured, and suicides are relatively common. He’s hoping to get a scholarship to study abroad. Finland was his first choice. Differences in the cost of living seemed prohibitive to me, but he planned to work alongside his study and was keen to understand how English universities limit paid work (answer: it varies, but he’ll need to be realistic). He’ll also be studying in English. This made my mind boggle, too as it does every time I see the myriad Chinese students at UCL trying to not only take on sometimes complex information, but doing so in their second language. Plans for an online business were also on the agenda. He seemed genuine, intelligent, ambitious, calm, polite and quietly determined.
Today’s random stuff now ensues.
Women (for they are the ones that do all the work; once married, the men seem to kick back and let them get on with running the show) with wares were everywhere. And it looked like they were carrying some serious weight on their shoulders (both literally and metaphorically):
And size:
The guard at HCM’s mausoleum was very insistent on where I could and couldn’t walk. Stepping over the line (literally) perturbed him greatly. I couldn’t decide whether to admire him or be scared by the whole mental attitude.
Selfies. I just don’t get them. I actively avoid having my photo taken. The few I’ve got from my trip are mostly to prove that I was actually here and didn’t travel round SE Asia via Google images. But they’re popular, especially with the Chinese. In an attempt to divert attention from me, I’ve invented the “someone-elsie” – taking photos of other people taking selfies. Much more comfortable with that:
A hula-hoop made of beads. First one like this I’ve seen:
Other street scenes from today:
Wasn’t sure what this stall was selling. It was something for children, maybe some kind of seat?
Hoan Kiem Lake is a point of focus within the city:
Outdoor gyms are next to icecream stalls, strings of light bulbs illuminate the path full of people taking in the evening air, enjoying the vibe and the view:
And as I walked to my hotel, I noticed this:
Someone having a piano lesson. On a piano. Can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before as I’d walked past here at least six times already – I must have been really tired. I waited until the lesson had finished, poked my nose through the door and asked whether it would be possible to have a quick play. Just a few minutes. I hadn’t played for a while, and I was missing it. She invited me in and waited patiently whilst I forgot how to play Beethoven’s Pathetique (mvt II)… and promptly invited me to come back anytime tomorrow. Can’t wait 🙂
If I recall correctly, whatever he’d done in them must have been pretty damn devastating – they weren’t in great shape!