Hanoi, June 13

After a few days in Hanoi an image remains in my mind: foreign businessmen and government types being chauffered around inside air- conditioned cars. Hidden behind tinted glass they are the ones making the deals to help bring Vietnam into the 21st century.

Glad that I saved Hanoi for the last place of my trip. The people in general seem more reserved and not as friendly as the southerners. It is a larger cultural/ political gap, and surprisingly more of a hustle for the tourist dollar. I can't walk more then ten feet without a cyclo driver stopping in front of me. Still I am amazed at how the people have put the war and past hostilities behind them. Everyone that I talk with is excited about the prospect of the United States normalizing relations with Vietnam in the near future. (This in fact happens a few weeks later).

Hanoi, June 14

On a motorbike this morning I went out to explore some of the villages north of Hanoi. On the outskirts of the city, in the bare cement suburbs something was wrong with the picture in front of me. In the middle of no- where brand new hotels are nearing completion. Who I wonder, would ever want to stay in such a place?

In the first village I stop to walk around in a market. I start photographing a group of men who are paving the road near a huge steel barrel of tar with flames and smoke coming out of it. I'm totally into it when all of a sudden two policemen on motorbikes pull over and tell me in sign language that taking pictures isn't permitted. We aren't quite communicating until one of them makes it clear that I had better get back on my motorbike and follow them. I ended up being detained for taking photos in forbidden territory. The first thing they wanted was my passport. I attempted to explain that I had had to give it to the place where I had rented my motorbike. Of course none of the officers understood any English. They made it clear that they also wanted the film in my camera. With the help of a student who magically appeared on the scene to translate, one of the policemen phoned the rental place. Finally the owner of the rental shop arrived to save me but not until I had handed over a roll of exposed film.

My Last Day In Vietnam, June 16th

The streets near the old Opera House are reminiscent of Paris. Instead of the grand cafes people sit on tiny stools eating Pho- noodle soup. Down one of the narrow side streets display cases line the sidewalks with fancy- looking cakes.

On my way to the airport to catch a plane to Saigon I cross the muddy Red River Delta. The view from the bridge is not a pretty one. The houses along the river are in a state of disrepair, ready to fall into the water.

Exiting the plane I smile to the Vietnamese woman sitting across the aisle. We exchange small talk and introduce ourselves. She is a doctor whose work takes her to Hanoi once a week. It turns out she studied in San Francisco and has also lived in Australia. Her husband is waiting at the gate. They invite me to join them for dinner and since I have five hours before my flight back to the States I accept.

Inside of the crowded resturant I feel as though I have known this couple for years. Here we were sharing a meal together and talking as if we are old friends. On the way back to the airport Saigon looks so different from the night I landed here a little over three weeks ago. It's uncanny how one can travel more then halfway around the world and still feel at home. It isn't until 36 hours later that the real culture shock sets in.

Saigon
Dalat 1 | 2
Nha Trang
Hoi Ann
Hue
Hanoi 1 | 2
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