Hanoi and Homecoming

How strange to wake to frost in the garden this morning, instead of a fog of condensation billowing from a hotel room air conditioner. Add "weather whiplash" to the list of homecoming adjustments -- a list which includes "boy, it's nice not to have to squat," "here's 120,000 dong - keep the change," "please pass the pumpkin vines," and "hey, where are all my wonderful travel buddies?"

It would be unfair to Vietnam if I didn't describe Hanoi. It struck me as a city of contrasts: Chinese and Viet, ancient and modern, reserved and entrepreneurial, contemplative and crazy-busy. Vestiges of colonialism are still found in the cuisine, the French quarter, and the elegance of the Metropole Hotel. And yet this is the city of Ho Chi Minh: his government, his home, and even his preserved body (on display for the public, touched-up annually, with a better-than-Botox complexion).

Hanoi smiles are subtler, shyer, slower than in the south. In a few instances -- usually with older people -- my greetings were met with stares, nothing else. It made me wonder what else those eyes had seen through the years. There were 58,000 U.S. fatalities in the Vietnam War; if we had lost the same percentage of our population as the Vietnamese, that number would have been 10 million. Perhaps the cool formality I observed was merely a cultural difference, but I couldn't help but think that my American face might be a reminder of some long-ago loss.

Our hotel was located in Hanoi's old quarter: narrow streets, tiny storefronts, street vendors, souvenir shops, taxis, tourists, and the ubiquitous motorbikes. As with Saigon, just one false step differentiates a pedestrian from a speed bump. In search of some calm and quiet on our last full day, I went out for an early-morning walk around the small and lovely Hoan Kiem Lake.

Though ringed with commercial buildings and relentless, honking traffic, the lake and its surrounding park provide a small oasis of tranquility. At 6:30 a.m. there were already plenty of locals there, most of them senior citizens, doing tai-chi and playing badminton. My favorite was the little woman in her '80's who was all by herself, smiling widely and dancing at the lake shore. It looked like she was doing a cross between the Charleston and the chicken dance - whatever it was, it made her very happy. Made me happy, too. Would that I could greet each day that joyfully.

Centered and refreshed, I joined up with some fellow travelers to spending the day shopping, dining and touring. This turned out to be a far better option than packing, as a power failure left our rooms swelteringly hot. We visited the Temple of Literature (the lit-lover in me swoons at this concept -- can you imagine such a thing in the U.S.?) and dined at a place with fabulous Vietnamese food called KOTO -- "know one, teach one" -- that trains disadvantaged kids for careers in the catering and hospitality industries. Back to the hotel... still no power, so there was only one solution: ice cream. By the time we licked up the last delicious drips (coffee flavor - I learned the hard way to avoid the exotic fruits) the power was back on and it was time to dress and depart for our farewell dinner. I was privileged to travel with a great group - so many experiences, insights, and stories. The trip has been the richer for sharing it with all of them.

During the next two weeks I'll offer a final few posts. Watch for photos (these ones with captions), some notes on food, plans for future projects, and some closing thoughts after I've had time to reflect on and integrate more of our experiences. Thanks again for being part of my journey.