Saturday, 3Feb07
Highlights: Ho Chi Minh mausoleum + house + museum, Temple of Literature, Silk road, Aircraft museum, Hoa Lo Prison, old quarter, Pho, meeting Bob Lucius
The plan was to meet the Aussie girls at Uncle Ho’s mausoleum at 9am- which sounded solid last night, but when reality hit this morning… well- unless our cabs arrived at the same moment, there was no standing around space at any point. Armed security guards & soldiers kept people moving.
The cold & unbending efficiency with which all comers are relieved of cameras & bags was unexpected & a bit annoying. We had to just trust that our things would be waiting for us at the other end. My sense of irritation was further stoked by another enforced rule of social grace: No hands in pockets around Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum. Did Martha Stewart write these rules?
Now, there was a crisp chill in the air (I’m not speaking metaphorically yet), and the line to enter the mausoleum wrapped around the building along a designated corridor. There were hundreds of tourists & Vietnamese alike in line at 9. Dozens of armed & uniformed soldiers patrolled, stopping every 10 feet to enforce the “hands out of pockets” rule. The line took 40 minutes just to get to the steps leading into the building. Enforced etiquette to view a dead guy takes the charm right out of the experience. Normally I would make the effort to sound more deferential- but the enforcement of silly rules stole my good humor.
I’ve been trying to think of a respectful way to say it was impressive & all that, but from the start, my gut feeling was loud and clear: something about all this over-the-top reverence to one man was somewhat disturbing.
He was the hero that led the country to freedom from the French, Japanese and the Americans. Got it. He’s their first President (1954-1969). Got it. He founded the Revolutionary Youth League (1925), which later became “the Party” (1930: Communist Party). Got it. Through Vietnamese eyes, he’s a great man. Ok.
So now there’s this giant tomb, with the man’s preserved body in a glass case, with an army of armed guards making sure no-one sneaks a camera or hand-bag in, and ensuring no hands slip unceremoniously into pockets. No speaking is allowed in the presence of Uncle Ho, and no stopping to look unduly long. (guards push people to keep moving). Giant flags fly above, and in long lines of red on either side of the building… the Vietnamese flag coupled with the Communist flag. There was a ceremonial changing of the guard (complete with slow march), and a large parade deck in front.
A lot of pomp & circumstance for the man who was famous for leading a simple lifestyle & who asked to be cremated, specifically so people wouldn’t worship his body as a symbol like this. Anyways- I’m just describing how I felt as I stood there.
Highlights: Ho Chi Minh mausoleum + house + museum, Temple of Literature, Silk road, Aircraft museum, Hoa Lo Prison, old quarter, Pho, meeting Bob Lucius
The plan was to meet the Aussie girls at Uncle Ho’s mausoleum at 9am- which sounded solid last night, but when reality hit this morning… well- unless our cabs arrived at the same moment, there was no standing around space at any point. Armed security guards & soldiers kept people moving.
The cold & unbending efficiency with which all comers are relieved of cameras & bags was unexpected & a bit annoying. We had to just trust that our things would be waiting for us at the other end. My sense of irritation was further stoked by another enforced rule of social grace: No hands in pockets around Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum. Did Martha Stewart write these rules?
Now, there was a crisp chill in the air (I’m not speaking metaphorically yet), and the line to enter the mausoleum wrapped around the building along a designated corridor. There were hundreds of tourists & Vietnamese alike in line at 9. Dozens of armed & uniformed soldiers patrolled, stopping every 10 feet to enforce the “hands out of pockets” rule. The line took 40 minutes just to get to the steps leading into the building. Enforced etiquette to view a dead guy takes the charm right out of the experience. Normally I would make the effort to sound more deferential- but the enforcement of silly rules stole my good humor.
I’ve been trying to think of a respectful way to say it was impressive & all that, but from the start, my gut feeling was loud and clear: something about all this over-the-top reverence to one man was somewhat disturbing.
He was the hero that led the country to freedom from the French, Japanese and the Americans. Got it. He’s their first President (1954-1969). Got it. He founded the Revolutionary Youth League (1925), which later became “the Party” (1930: Communist Party). Got it. Through Vietnamese eyes, he’s a great man. Ok.
So now there’s this giant tomb, with the man’s preserved body in a glass case, with an army of armed guards making sure no-one sneaks a camera or hand-bag in, and ensuring no hands slip unceremoniously into pockets. No speaking is allowed in the presence of Uncle Ho, and no stopping to look unduly long. (guards push people to keep moving). Giant flags fly above, and in long lines of red on either side of the building… the Vietnamese flag coupled with the Communist flag. There was a ceremonial changing of the guard (complete with slow march), and a large parade deck in front.
A lot of pomp & circumstance for the man who was famous for leading a simple lifestyle & who asked to be cremated, specifically so people wouldn’t worship his body as a symbol like this. Anyways- I’m just describing how I felt as I stood there.
posted by jonathan adventures at 11:02 PM
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