Hanoi Museums

In Bangkok, when a motorcycle driver stops you on the street and pulls a card out of his pocket, it is usually of naked women enticing you to come to a massage parlour. In Hanoi, when the same thing happens (which is does incessantly) the driver pulls out a card with a list of museums he wants to take you to.

The Vietnamese have done a wonderful job depicting the heroic nature of communism and cycle of continual struggle .As I was standing outside the Vietnam Army museum, appropriately located at 28A Dien Bien Phu Street (the name of the1954 battle beating the French) and across the road from Lenin Park I realized how classic this symmetry was. All of the museums, and there are about twelve of them, show the classic symbols of this struggle. There is a guillotine in at least two museums, many pictures of Ho leading and educating the troops, lots of soldiers in impressive revolutionary poses, the bicycle driver with tons of weight ‘shlepping’ food and ammunition to the front and of course, downed American war machinery. Since the Americans used more firepower in Vietnam then they did during world war two, you can only imagine how much of it is left in museums all over Vietnam!

Schoolchildren, foreigners, and Vietnamese of all sizes and shapes file through these museums daily, reinforcing the notion of continual struggle. To be fair, there are always a few galleries at the end taking Hanoi up to the modern period with charts and graphs of production and economic growth depicted in true communist style.

But what I am left to wonder is what message is getting seared into the brain of schoolchildren. Is it that life is a struggle, the whole world is against us and we have to continue to sacrifice and fight to survive? If this is the case, is it the same message Jews share around the world as they continue to memorialize the Holocaust? Instead of promoting the great tradition of Jewish values, ethics and morality, we tend to promote the horrific negative experience of the twentieth century. Instead of teaching our children to be proud of our rich heritage are we promoting weariness and fear? Are the Vietnamese doing the same thing? There is the Air Force museum, Ho Chi Minh museum, army museum, revolutionary museum, to be fair, mixed in with a geography, ethnography, fine arts and woman museum. Clearly it is not for me to say, but I am certainly left wondering what these messages are essentially doing to the culture of the Vietnamese.

Obviously, Vietnam has a rich and powerful history of scholarship if the writings and pictures represent scholarship as I presume they do. There is centuries of art, universities, and commerce. Clearly there are other important stories to tell other than war. Having said that, seeing powerful howitzers, mangled planes and tanks is quite an awesome experience for someone from Canada. There is probably more war machinery in Vietnamese museums than in all of Canada.

As you can see from the photos( which I cannot upload to this blog) the French colonial influence is quite dramatic in the architecture of the buildings. The French had good taste with their high ceilings, beautifully large arched windows, expansive gardens and contoured buildings. They make for wonderful places to house museums. All of the museums, except for the Ho Chi Minh Museum, are quite laid back and relaxed. In the very modern Ho buiding, built in a lotus shape, you have all of the multi media in many languages talking about the evils of fascism and the wonderful glory of communism and you are directed with arrows, guards and clearly marked hallways making sure you keep moving but see the right things.

Two more museums to go, perhaps tomorrow, as I wait for the Bangkok airport to reopen. The woman’s museum and Fine Art museum. Hopefully I will leave tomorrow and see these on my next trip. After all, I have to have something to look forward to!

Hanoi versus Toronto

As my colleagues and I were driving back from Huong Son (Perfume Pagoda) I couldn’t help but think about the differences there are between Hanoi and Toronto. It doesn’t take much imagination really. Just average vision and nerves of steel. There are usually about a dozen motorcycles roaring right at you coming in the wrong lane. At this time, I usual close my eyes, although realizing, unlike a Disneyland ride, it may not turn out with me walking off the ride with both legs and arms intact! There is so much vehicular traffic of all sorts it is absolutely shocking there are not dead bodies lying all over the road.

Everyone in Hanoi, as I told you last year, has at least one motorbike and they constantly let you know it. The honk incessantly, I think, just to keep themselves awake. As I was driving along the main road between the Fragrance Pagoda and Hanoi the traffic was absolutely mad. Kids were playing soccer or badminton along the side of the road absolutely oblivious of the mayhem just one swerve away. I can’t imagine any self-respecting Toronto mother even letting their kid outside in such traffic! Of course, even though it is probably about 18 degrees and drizzling, everyone is eating outside on the tiniest stools you ever saw in your life(unless you have been to Vietnam). Assuming you could bend low enough to sit on these little stools, would you eat your meals outside at Yonge and Bloor? For those few eating inside, they usually have a storefront and one little divider and they are calmly eating just behind the screen while customers are shopping in their store.

In Asia, you have either just eaten or are going to eat. The common refrain when they see you is not “how are you?” but “have you eaten yet?” Concomitant to that is the heaps of garbage everywhere. At night, as I walk home to my hotel in the Old Quarter, garbage collectors shovel up garbage which is determined to keep falling out of their wheelbarrow, only to supply someone else with a job tomorrow. When I think how clean Singapore is I realize the government or government initiatives can make a real difference.

In Singapore, there are tons of banners flying everywhere lauding education or women or whatever. In Hanoi, there are as many banners furled across the road as in Singapore. I am not sure exactly what they are saying, but I assume they are glorifying some communist initiative or other. If they said something like, “clean up your garbage” who knows what the results could be. I wonder what it takes to change a culture other than propaganda posters?

As we were passing miles and miles of rice paddies we saw a funeral seemingly walking in the middle of the paddy. When I asked my colleagues what was happening , they told me the body or the ashes were likely to be buried in the rice paddy probably owned by the deceased. Indeed, I saw lots of cemeteries in rice fields with headstones in no particular order as you might see in any cemetery in the west. A stone here or there at some jaunty angle.

Of course, there were the ubiquitous buffalo walking along the side of the road and drinking from the canals that run beside the road. Buses are chock full of people hanging out the doors, not quite as bad as Myanmar but nearly. The infrastructure clearly does not support the population and how anything ever moves is amazing to me.

Motorcycles are either full of people (like whole families) riding on one bike or animals. I saw one motorcycle with four pigs tressed up in 4 baskets hanging over the side of the cycle. I presume they were going to market but those live pigs had to be under tremendous stress.

I did spend the day on a beautiful river ride in the mountains going to the Perfume Pagoda if you are wondering where those pictures were taken. I went with my teaching colleagues on a day excursion from Hanoi to the countryside which was fun as you can see from the pictures. What was especially great is that you can escape the tremendous din of horns blowing and the smog of fumes I presume. Of course, the Vietnamese say it the pollution from China, as we claim our smog is pollution from the United States.

I am writing this from the plane going to Ho Chi Minh City. Let’s see if I can notice any changes from last December. Hopefully I can give my jacket a rest until I come up north again and just patiently wait the cold I am going to get. I can feel my throat getting sore already.

The Royal Funeral

We are in the middle of six day pageant in memory of Her Royal Highness Princess Galyani Vadhana Krom Luang Naradhiwas Rajanagarinda. She is the “pie sow” or older sister of the king. Even though she died last January and we lowered the flag for her everyday and had a moment’s silence and so on, the royal cremation ceremony (ies) are only taking place now. Why? Because they had to do it right! They built Thra Merumas or the cremation building within the Grand Palace and after the four days of ceremony it will be taken down.

Yesterday, I spent the day with hundreds of thousands of others roaming around the Grant Palace area trying to take it all in. I did not see the royal procession from Dusit Maha Prasat Throne hall to the Royal Cremation Ground at Sanam Luang, a park across the road from the Grand Palace, but there were huge screens up everyone for all to see. People waited for hours standing by the side of the road only to catch a brief glimpse of the king and queen as they drove past on their way to the ceremony.

Lucky for me, as usual, I got lost and ended up at the assembly area. If you look at my pictures, you will see all of the dignitaries assembling on the parade grounds about four kilometers from the Grand Palace to be taken by bus to the ceremonies. They were all fully decked out in their regalia with their complete entourage. I took a picture of the prime minister and his henchmen and woman and another group of impressive looking people. When they saw I was wearing a York University shirt they told me they were responsible for higher education in Thailand and had worked with York through a CIDA project many years ago. I just wished I was fast enough to ask for an interview with them later in the week since I would love to be stationed in Bangkok. Travelling is fun, but it would be nice to be in one place so I don’t have to pre- think when I am going to get my laundry done so I will have enough clothes to wear on my travels!

What was also interesting was that 2 German ladies were lost and wanted to get to the train station. I acted as the translator between these women and some Thais which was really impressive, I thought. Then a Dutch couple came over and asked me where Gucci was. That was too much for me and I got out of there as quickly as possible before I was inundated with thousands of other questions I could not answer.

The pageantry, I discovered, was really just an excuse for a great party and celebration of Thai history and culture. As usual, roads were closed, food stands appeared out of nowhere and whole families were celebrating. Even the police got into the action and took pictures (of themselves) and others, joked with the crowd and seemed to be having a lot of fun. I did catch some mourners in prayer or meditation, but not many.

I joined the celebration in my own way, which was to take a ferry down to the Sheraton hotel and have a sumptuous buffet overlooking the river.

When in Rome…

I’m too poor to get married!

I was playing golf the other day on THE golf course in Yangon and to make conversation I asked the caddy how many children she had. When I ask a Thai caddy the same question, I always get the answer, two or three, and they are always living with grandmother in Issan, a poor province in the north east of Thailand. This time, in Yangon, the answer stunned me when she said; “I’m too poor to be married” That got me to thinking about social organization in Canada. Would I ever hear the same words in Canada?

It occurs to me that everything about Asia is structured and class oriented. There are no rags to riches stories. In fact, there are no downtown Yangon to the Park Royal Hotel stories. Once you are born into a lower station in life you remain in that station for ever, due to the impossibility of schooling, social opportunities, and so on.

As the world knows, Myanmar is living under a military dictatorship but one can get used to anything. I was in the staff room the other day talking with an older colleague who told me how much he missed freedom. For example, to buy a radio, you have to register and fill out forms. A young guy on staff asked what was so weird about that? It reminds me of the story of the frog in hot water that is gradually brought up to a boil. The frog does not jump out…it simply adapts until it is too late and then dies. It seems that the young people of Myanmar, who have never known freedom, literally do not know what they are missing and simply accept the status quo. The reason they know no different, by the way, is that everything is censored. The only foreign paper you can possibly get is the Singapore Strait Times and anything deemed sensitive is literally cut out. Internet sites such as Yahoo and Hotmail are blocked and there may be one television station with Myanmar news (not sure about that).

Clearly questioning and inquiry is not encouraged at school. In fact, school is hardly encouraged at all. In Mandalay, I was speaking with the chef of the hotel and complimenting him on his work. I went on to ask him what his dreams were. He told me he wanted to be a teacher. I told him I could help him fulfill that dream and he said he was already there. He was a teacher years ago but could not afford to live on the 12.00 a month he was paid once he had his own children. Classes are large, teachers teach by rote and to make a living they “slow down” during the day so that if kids want to really learn to pay to pay for extra tuition after school which is how the teachers make enough money to live.

I guess living outside of Canada has helped me realize how important education is to the development of a nation. Without education, we are back to the caddy saying she could never get married because she was so poor!

Chinese Wedding in Mandalay

For some reason, this week was full of Chinese Weddings in Myanmar. It is obviously an auspicious time for a wedding since I know astrologers are always consulted as to the time and place of weddings so if they are all taking place at the same time there is good reason for it. I was fortunate to be able to attend two of them and remembered the second time to take my camera so at least I have a record of it and you can share the experience with me by having a look at the pictures.

Both weddings were actually quite similar. When I say weddings, I really do not mean the solemnization ceremony but rather the celebration and because they were Chinese parties, you can be sure they revolved around food. We are usually seated near the front at a table of honour and I must tell you that out of hundreds of guest, I was the only guy that had a white face. I was taught a few gestures and expressions in Chinese to say congratulations, fabulous party and so on and whenever I spoke I was greeted with enormous smiles, either because they appreciated the fact that I was trying or they thought I was absolutely out of my mind and were merely patronizing an idiot.

Before you knew it, food was served and the party began. Waiters came out by the hundreds caring platters of food and on both nights the order of food remained virtually the same. We began with some pork, fried something or other and something else fried. There is soup and plenty of it, but it is served two or three times throughout the meal with the sour soup served just before the rice. The rice is served last and as a courtesy you turn it away to let the host know you were completely satisfied with the meal and you have no need or ability to fill up with plebian rice. The shark fin soup comes somewhere near the middle between the platters of fried this and fried that. The plates are put in the middle of the table and everyone around the table usually helps themselves, except in my case! Because I am the oldest and a man, I am usually served first by one of the guests at the table. It was either because I was the oldest or they were a little concerned about me messing up the table with my inefficient control of chopsticks!

The one thing I did not like was that we only had a little bowl, not a bad idea in itself, but they never changed the bowl through three soup dishes and about seven other courses. I suppose my stomach did not know the difference but unfortunately I did. What do you do with the bones and other bits and pieces you do not want to eat and you are kept being given food heaped on top of the older food? I considered slipping it under the table, but could not find an appropriate moment to do it with about 250 pairs of eyes on me, the “white ghost.”

What I also found amazing was the complete absence of speeches or ceremony. The wedding party did walk up the aisle with parents, uncles and aunts etc and bowed three times to the invited guests, once thanking them for coming, once wishing them good fortune and once wishing them health. That was the end of the ceremony. When people finished eating (and that usually meant when the most important person is finished eating and stands up), everyone else gets up and leaves. There is no standing around chatting at the door and lollygagging about as my father would say. You come in, pass over you red envelope of money, sit down, eat your meal, drink copious amounts of beer so you can toast your elders, eat a great meal, get up and all leave at the same time. It does make it hell to get out of the parking lot.

How is my work going, you ask? You don’t think eating an enormous meal every night is work? Last night, by the way, after eating this meal I went back to my room and woke up every 30 minutes or so. I realized it was because of some noise coming out of the bathroom and changed rooms around 4 am. At 5 am I changed rooms again because I could not stand the constant drip from the toilet and when I did eventually go back to my room to begin the day at 7 a.m. I could not get in because my room key did not work. Quite a predicament when you are in your birthday suit!!

Today, I gave one teacher workshop where every school in Mandalay was invited to send representatives and to-night, if I can stay awake, I am giving another workshop to our teachers here. I guess I better go and prepare. I only have a few minutes before I am “