Ninh Binh

We woke up the next morning missing Hoi An. There really is something special about that city. The reality of our impending departure was bringing on all kinds of nostalgia, and we needed something to take our minds off of leaving.

Sue had just the thing in store for us. Before we left Hoi An, she had called up one of her tour guide friends in Hanoi and arranged a couple of side trips for us during our time in the city. The first was a day trip to Ninh Binh, a national park about two hours south of Hanoi.

Our guide (coincidentally named Binh) picked us up at the hotel after an early breakfast. We hopped into the van waiting for us, and made our way out of the city. Binh kept us entertained with stories of day-to-day life in Hanoi. He also has a daughter about Mimi’s age, so we immediately connected over that. And yes, Binh’s daughter is already potty trained.

But can she open a can of soda?

Our's can’t either, but she looks really cute trying.

Our first stop that day was a small group of temples and pagodas that marked the ancestral capital of Viet Nam (predating even Hue).

It was a beautiful, fascinating stop, but it was hardly the main attraction. The real reason that we made the drive was a lazy river that winds through rice paddies and granite cliffs.

The community at the mouth of the river has banded together to create a system for visitors to float down the river with local fishers. It’s a one of a kind destination, and we didn’t want to miss it. That said, the last time we took our baby on a boat in this country, it wasn’t exactly a pleasure cruise. So we rearranged our itinerary a bit to make two trips down the river, letting us keep Mimi's two tiny feet solidly planted on firm ground.

We sent Tom and Helen down the river first, while Aimee, Mimi, and I explored the nearby village.

It was a tiny little town that mostly served the visitors passing through. But there were plenty of locals going about their business. Like most Vietnamese towns this time of year, the main plaza was covered with rice husks.

We’ve seen rice harvested in scortching heat in Hoi An, and planted on the side of a mountain outside of Sa Pa. But for whatever reason, watching this woman separate rice from grass made me realize how labor intensive rice farming is.

And of course, Mimi attracted plenty of admirers along our walk.

Watching people melt over our baby never gets old. We could have saved weeks of language preparation, and just learned the words chin tan (ten months) and em gai (girl). We would have been fine.

After about an hour or so, we saw Tom and Helen float back to the docks with big grins on their faces. So we passed them our daughter and hopped on the next boat. It didn’t take us long to see what Tom and Helen were smiling about.

As we floated down the river, all I could think about was how unbelievable beautiful this country is.

The river winded through rice paddies and granite cliffs for about thirty minutes, and then appeared to actually go under one of the cliffs.

At this point, I turned 13 again. "What?! No way! We get to go through a cave?!"

Despite the darkness, you could have seen my grin from a mile away. After we emerged from the cave, we floated through equally stunning scenery for another ten minutes or so, and then turned around to head back up the river. Which, of course, meant another trip through the cave.

Before we get back to the docks, I should point out how the villagers row their boats.

Every one of the captains--young, old, man, woman--held the oars with their feet, laid back, and essentially pedaled down the river. It was pretty incredible.

The river journey was yet one more magical Vietnamese experience, and only deepened our preemptive nostalgia. We’re really going to miss this place.

Exploring Hanoi

The next day was a Monday, which meant absolutely nothing. The only thing we had scheduled for that day was a water puppet show (more on that later). So we enjoyed a casual breakfast at the hotel and wandered around downtown Hanoi.

We stumbled upon a mall that would have been just at home in Beverly Hills or New York City.

Lest you forget, this is a communist country. Sort of.

In one of the great ironies of the Vietnam war, the purpose didn't match the reality. The stated cause for the war was to stem the tide of communism moving across Asia, which our leaders at the time saw as both a security and an economic threat. I’ll stay out of the debate about how dangerous communism really was, and take the statement at face value.

In my recent role of armchair geopolitical historian, I’ve come across plenty of writings that portrayed Ho Chi Minh as much more of a nationalist than a communist. Ho Chi Minh, or Uncle Ho, as he is commonly referred to here, was the mid-1900s political leader that unified Viet Nam and led the country to independence from France. And in that post-colonial, post World War era, small countries needed to have big friends. France and its WWII allies (including the USA) weren’t exactly lining up to help the former colony, so HCM aligned Viet Nam with the only other team to play for at the time. Granted, I'm sure he related to a philosophy that values community over the individual, but he might have wanted nothing more than to have someone in his corner if another country came knocking (like they had been doing for the past millennium or so).

As we know, that exact scenario played out throughout the 1960s and early 1970s. Viet Nam needed a friend, and the rest is history. After HCM died in 1969, his lieutenants carried on the communist political system, outlasting even the country that pioneered it. But the Vietnamese version of communism has always been market friendly. Their communism seems to be less about regulating industry, and more about keeping tight control over national politics. Viet Nam has endured centuries of outside aggressors and internal divisions, so it’s easy to see how a political system like this one could take hold.

Or at least that’s how things seemed to a visitor who has read just enough Wikipedia articles to get himself into trouble.

But we weren't looking for answers that afternoon, we were looking for coffee. Our wandering led us to yet another cute little cafe with amazing coffee. That was nothing new, but their tables really caught my eye.

I have grown to love the tiny little tables that Viet Nam is known for. My knees weren't quite as enamored in our first days in the country, but they've come around. The wood ones at our cafe that day seemed reasonably easy to build for our own house once we got home. So I took out my travel tape measure and started planning.

It retrospect, my ambitions might have overshot my carpentry skills. We’ll see how that plays out.

After coffee, we went back to the hotel for a round of naps. Our next stop was the water puppet show. If you’re like me, you probably haven’t even heard of a water puppet show. But let me tell you, they’re nothing short of increible. They evolved from simple puppet plays performed by rice farmers to pass time during the rainy season. Modern versions are staged by a troupe of actors controlling intricate creations that float, swim, and dive throughout a small pool stage.

The art form is a beautiful combination of dance, comedy, opera, and live music that is impossible to capture in a photograph or blog post. Seek one out and experience it yourself. You will not be disappointed. I was (and still am) awestruck.

Even Mimi—our ten month old who gets distracted by her feet when she’s playing with her hands—was absolutely captivated.

It was magical.

Greetings from Hanoi

Our train from Sa Pa arrived in Hanoi around 5am. To make up for the ungodly hour, we were rewarded with scenes of the city waking up as we rolled our way through it.

But there was a practical issue to consider. It had been four days since I had even changed my shirt, let alone taken a shower. That needed to be addressed. We couldn't officially check in to our hotel until noon, but I was hoping we could talk our way into an early arrival if they had a room available. When we arrived at the hotel, the door was locked. Never a good sign. But in a charming take on the Vietnamese custom of living above your store, the 20-somethings that run the hotel apparently live in a couple of apartments in the basement. So one of them came to open the door, and thankfully allowed us to check in early. Mimi gets the credit for that one.

After a shower, a nap, and another shower, we set off for some coffee. The cafe we found happened to be next to an indoor market that was as exotic and bustling as we expected from an indoor market in the heart of Hanoi.

Our plan for the day was to just wander around Hanoi and get a feel for the city. But we had two specific destinations in mind. The first was Hoan Kiem lake. The lake has some symbolic significance in the myths of ancient Viet Nam. But these days, it's mainly a gathering place for leisurely strolls and scenic views. It's Hanoi's version of Central Park. On Sundays (the day we happened to be there), the road that loops around the lake is closed to traffic so that pedestrians can mosey around.

Well, it's closed to almost all traffic.

A couple of genius entrepreneurs had set up a booth to rent remote control (!) toddler cars, so the south side of the lake was disproportionately adorable.

As an aside, when Aimee asked one of the parents if she could take a photo of her kid, the mom looked at Aimee like she was crazy. "Um, duh. Of course. Why would you ask to take a photo of my child?" And then that mom took a photo of our child.

We walked around Hanoi for another hour or so, and our next stop was decidedly less charming.

The Hoa Lo prison complex has played a pivotal role in several historic events over the past 100 years. It's most famously known to Americans as the Hanoi Hilton, the North Vietnamese prison for American pilots shot down during the war. John McCain is the most famous former inhabatant, but he was only one of many. In fact, the first American ambassador after we re-normalized relations decades after the war was a former prisoner here.

I'm guessing that the AC units weren't there during McCain's time, but the electrified wire on the roof probably was.

Most of the prison was knocked down as part of Hanoi's post war rebuilding, but there's still quite a large section remaining. The building is now a museum divided into three section. The first section is dedicated to the building's original purpose: a French prison used to contain (and frequently torture and kill) political insurgents during the occupation.

The main room above was the first level of imprisonment. The rooms got progressively more gruesome as we walked towards the dungeon. That's where the most successful/dangerous freedom fighters/terrorists were held. Clearly, the Vietnamese people and their French occupiers had different definitions of patriotism. But after walking through the giant steel doors and looking at the original prison guillotine, it's hard not to take sides.

A preserved section of sewer used in an attempted escape.

The next section inadvertently pays homage to a recurring theme in human history: the captees becoming the captors. Like too many revolutionaries before them (and after them), the North Vietnamese Army engaged in some of the same oppressive behaviors as the people they had just chased out. Once the NVA had taken control of the prison, they used it to house high-value American POWs and Vietnamese dissidents. The irony isn't lost on the museums curators, and they make a point of contrasting the prison conditions during the periods of French and Vietnamese control.

The entrance to the second section features a placard describing the circumstances.

In case it's hard to read, the key sentences are, "During the war, the national economy was having difficulties but the Vietnamese government created the best living conditions that they could for the US pilots. They had a stable life during their temporary detention periods." The museum then features a collection of photos and relics that make Hoa Lo seem more like a country club than a prison.

While the NVA treated their American prisoners far better than the French treated the Vietnamese, I think that McCain (bottom left in the last photo) might have a different take on the characterization of imprisonment there.

For a fascinating story of a far less famous prisoner, read this story of a US sailor blown overboard and brought to the prison. I came across it as I was doing some background research on the prison. It's incredible.

The third and final section opens with this poster.

The room it leads to features photos of teachers in front of classrooms filled with adult students. The photos were quaint and homey, and it seemed like that section of the museum was intended to showcase the emphasis on education in modern Viet Nam. It wasn't until we were walking home that I realized what those photos were showing. It was a very sanitized portrayal of the infamous "reeducation camps" set up by the Vietnamese government after the war. The camps were intended to give anti-revolutionary insurgents one last chance to see things the way The Party sees them. But far too frequently, the camps just turned into prisons with nicer sounding names.

War is ugly, and one of my main goals for this trip is trying to explore that period's history without judgement. I wasn't there, and it's impossible for any one person to understand the full depth and context of one of the most complicated conflicts in modern world history. So instead of me trying to come up with a unifying theme or a satisfying conclusion to this post, I'll leave that part to all of you and just end with a photo from our dinner that night.

Humanity, I think we're going to be ok.

"Hiking" out

Our second morning in the valley was just as lovely as the first. Birds chirping, trees swaying, muscles protesting.

A cup of surprisingly delicious instant coffee got us up and running. But the weather was already getting pretty hot, and we were in no rush to hit the trail. So it was music to our ears when So proposed an alternate plan for the day. Instead of a four hour hike out, we would just spend the morning at a little water fall and wading pool. Since we had already hiked out of the most remote part of the valley, we could easily catch a ride back to Sa Pa.

Um, yes please.

The hike to the waterfall was about 20 minutes long. Which was nice, because I only had an 18 minute capacity for physical exertion. But I summoned a little extra strength and we made it.

Everyone loved the surprise pool day, especially our little water baby.

And the day just got easier from there. Back at the homestay, our hosts served us nothing short of a feast to send us off.

I'm pretty sure that Aimee took that photo during the only minute that I was holding Mimi. Our hosts had baby duty more than covered.

Aimee and I won't be even remotely surprised if her first words are in Hmong.

After hugs and goodbyes, we hopped in a van back to Sa Pa. Not surprisingly, the drive was beautiful. Well, at least the first fifteen seconds were. Whatever happened after that was lost on me.

We arrived back in Sa Pa around 1 pm, and we had a few hours to kill before our bus left for the train station. So on a tip from the Sapa Sisters base camp staff, we walked to the wholesale market where Hmong artisans make and sell their textiles.

Aimee and I are suckers for grandmas selling handmade linens, so all of you are getting table runners for your birthdays this year.

We spent the rest of the afternoon casually exploring Sa Pa. The city was founded about a hundred years ago as a French hill station, so it feels a lot more like the Alps than the Annamites.

But, as our tour book warned us, the city is hot and crowded. So we mostly spent the afternoon drinking coffee while our baby entertained tourists.

The bus ride back to the train station was easy and pretty. The valleys surrounding Sa Pa are some of the most stunning in the world, and the people and history are equally amazing. It was such a treat to be able to explore the area with So and the Sapa Sisters, even if (or maybe especially because) we had to earn it.

I'm pretty sure we were all asleep before the train left the station.