Traffic in the outskirts of Hanoi
Pick-up at the hotel was at 8:30. By that time, we had to eat breakfast, pack and get to the lobby. Not that they would have left without us. You see, we were very privelaged and had a private tour, so just our driver Manh, our guide Hoang, my dad and yours truly. After throwing our stuff into our trusty Ford Transit, we headed west out of Hanoi. Traffic conditions didn’t change in the outskirts. On the contrary. Partially due to the fact that it was Sunday, partially because the roads got smaller, the traffic kept its chaotic character, but always flowed slowly. There is no way one of us ‘westerners’ could manage to navigate through this traffic but it seems there are some driving strategies. Keep the same speed, weave gently, never swerve, never look back, don’t stop, beep often. The traffic doesn’t ever move fast. The fastest we did all day was 50, max 60km/h.
Once we left the greater Hanoi area, things got greener and quieter. And I mean really green. You know the saying ?things are greener on the other side’? Well, this was the other side in comparison. The traffic was left behind, and we encountered more bicycles and other traditional means of transportation. It was obvious though that motorbikes and scooters are the main means of transport and transportation. There is almost nothing that isn’t carried on the motorbikes, and for almost everything, there is a gadget, hook or special method to attach it. Cages with scores of chickens, window frames, ceramic pots that were more than a meter tall, bamboo two meters long – the wide way. Or 15 meters long dragging behind. Nothing will top the two fully grown pigs lying belly up, squealing, tied to a wooden crate, somehow magically affixed to a 50cc scooter!
Bring them chicks to the market
More and more, paddy fields and tea bushes dominated the scenery as we got into the foothills. A walk through one of the fields of tea bushes, mainly used for green tea, resulted in some great photos. Hoang is very good in explaining everything in great detail. He has extremely wide and deep knowledge – history, geography, culture, agriculture – you name it. I mean, how many Canadians could explain the parallels of Hanoi and Ottawa compared to Toronto and Saigon?
Green Tea Fields
As we drove on, the ‘old Vietnam’ became more and more apparent. Oxen, water buffalo and horses were pulling carts, women with the typical conical hats were tending to the paddy fields, bicycles with whole families were travelling the streets.
Vietnam 2010 - Water buffalo pulling cart
Hoang gave us the liberty of deciding when we want to stop for pictures, stretching are legs or doing what little boys have to do every once in a while, so we picked a few places en route to grab some pictures. Just by the scenery, we could have stopped every few kilometers, but then we would never have reached Nghia Lo. One stop though was especially memorable. We were driving along the mountain side, the opposite side covered with tea bushes. We snapped some pictures and decided to walk along the windy road for a few kilometers. We came to a steep path leading down to a river, and Hoang suggested we follow it. After a bit, a small, simple home of a local appeared before us. We were still a bit away when a man, presumably towards his sixties, beckoned us in his direction, inviting us into his humble home. The people live simple, but satisfied. A single room, in the middle of it a table and two wooden benches. At the end, the wall was covered with pictures, symbols of buddhism and a small altar. On both ends of the house there was a bed, about two meters wide. Each bed can be sectioned off with a curtain, and in this mans case, each bed sleeps three. Three generations live here, together with chickens which stroll around on the stone floor in the house, and a few pigs just behind the thin wall consisting only of a few wooden boards. The house was of wood with a simple tiled roof and a single entrance, that also being the only source of natural light. The gentleman invited us to join him at the table and enjoy a few cups of green tea with him. He was from the largest group of people in Vietnam, the Kinh of Viet people. He actually originates from central Vietnam, but due to the over population there, left that area so he could get a decent piece of land up here in the north. The government supported and to a certain extent subsidised the people who populated the north. He explained to Hoang that he grows, picks and dries the tea homself. This is his main source of income. We got the freshest (and strongest) cup of tea I have ever had. He was very excited and happy to have us, he could hardly stop serving us. I guess part of it was also our ignorance – we emptied the tiny cup each time, and then it gets refilled – Vietnamese hospitality. Man, did I ever have to go behind a bush… But then he showed us how and where he makes the tea, not missing a detail. It was a very nice inter-cultural experience for all of us.
Enjoying green tea with a friendly local
We moved on after a while, enjoying the hills and seeing how we were nearing the mountains. Now, in Nghia Lo, Dad is napping after the long etappe we did today. I’ll have to wake him in a bit to go for dinner. At dinner, we’ll have to convince Hoang and Manh to join us at the dinner table, not like during lunch*. But until it was time, and while Dad was sleeping anyway, I decided to let him snore away, grabbed my camera and Polaroid Pogo, and head out into town. It was a small town, with the local market right beside our hotel. It was full of colourful fruit, lucious vegetables, raw meats laid out on the ground and all kinds of other things – things we wouldn’t even consider selling! Colourful market ladies and their kids offered me their produce, a smile and a look of bewilderment. One little girl, about 11 or 12, smiled so geniunely and said the sweetest ‘Hello’ in english, that I couldn’t resist asking for a picture, using my hands and camera to signal my intent. She put her sweetest smile on for me. It was my turn to then give something back. I took out my little Pogo printer and started printing the picture. As that was happening, a crowd gathered around me. Kids, parents, grandparents, mothers with babies.
Market Girl in Nghia Lo
As the picture was coming out of the printer, oohs and aahs and even screeches of joy resounded on all sides. It came as it had to come… I had hands tapping me from all sides, people posing, smiling, laughing – all wanting pictures. I snapped some pics, printed a bunch more, and ran out of paper. I tried to explain, and I think I was understood. At least, the crowd dispersed with people saying good night, shaking my hand, clapping me on the shoulder. What a great experience, filled with joy and happiness of those kids and their parents. I hope they have as good a memory of this magical moment as I do!
We had dinner alone. I mean, really alone. A room, about 20sq. meters, ceiling almost 3 meters high. Red carpets, thick, heavy red curtains. Communist symbols and decoration on all sides. Dad, me, eight or nine dishes of food, and our trusty Bia Ha Noi… Again the food was very good and overly plentiful. Springrolls, a spinach-like veggie, rice, chicken, tofu, rice, potatoes and, did I mention rice? For dessert we got a wonderful bouquet of fresh local fruit with the sweetest tangerines we ever had. Did we ever sleep well that night!
*Note: We later learning to respect this, although initially it was strange for us. We felt as if we were being served and got to sit at the tables with the good views, when all we wanted was equality and a good discussion. But, we then realized that this was their time-off during their working day, time to relax and discuss in their own language and culture. How could we have been so ignorant at the beginning?
