Part 1
Yesterday we were treated to a schedule change that bestowed us an extra hour to sleep in. As it was our last day, we spent it doing evaluations and other wrap-up activities. For our last lunch we went to our regular bun cha provider. Considering that I go there about twice a week, and that we don't all always go together, Auntie Bun Cha has gotten quite used to her western clientele. After we became regulars she lowered the price, reducing or eliminating the padding that any price gets when a westerner is paying. Yesterday we were greeted with a friendly smile of recognition and space was made for us. It's a popular place, and sometimes there are no tables available when we arrive but, upon seeing our faces, she immediately identifies lingerers who are done eating and shoos them out. At the end our meal we felt compelled to tell her we would no longer be coming back. Surely she never expected us to stay forever, but after a month we felt like a goodbye was necessary.
On the way back to class I passed a row of tubing shops that I have been wanting to photograph since I first saw them. Every day I was on the wrong side of the street or it was raining or I just didn't have my camera out and I would just put it off until 'tomorrow'. Now there was no more tomorrow, and so the pictures finally got taken. At the end of the day it was our last departure from the Heritage Hotel, the host of our makeshift classroom. As much as sitting in that room all day every day has grated on us, it was almost sad to think we would never be back. No more visits from our rat mascot, no more rivulets coming down from the ceiling when it rains, but also no more snack time fruit smorgasbords and no more spending all of our days together. In the afternoon we went looking for a thank you gift for our teaching teacher. It turns out there is a whole street of lantern shops just a few blocks from the hotel.
Last night we had a farewell dinner reception with our teachers, lecturers, and the embassy staff. Throughout this month I have generally dispreferred eating western food, but tonight I could not complain. It is true that we ate at a hotel buffet, but I feel that that does not give the right impression. It was an immense spread of delicious. I had five plates of food. I haven't seen cheese in a month and they had brie, boursin, emmenthal, and gouda.They had raw oysters. They had pasta. They had grilled beef. They had grape tomatoes. They had broccoli! I felt like I was getting up every five minutes to get more food. I was taking my already famous appetite to the next level. I concluded with grapefruit and Asian pear and mango. Holy guacamole, it was good.
After dinner we had a farewell karaoke party with the hotel staff. They learned all of our names just a few days after our arrival, and have been an invaluable source of smiles and help. If you have received a postcard from me, you can thank them for getting it stamped and put in the mail. Anyway, going to karaoke is the local equivalent of the American practice of going to a bar with friends. It has a lot of social significance to karaoke with someone. This was my first real karaoke experience and true to form the power went out a couple times during the night, but it was a blast. Even if it was so loud conversation was impossible, we got to know each other as closeted divas and rappers emerged. I had my moment in the limelight singing Summer Lovin' from Grease, and throughout the night as the mike was desperately passed around when English songs that no one actually knew were passed around. Sometimes it seemed as though the technician taking our lists of song requests substituted similarly named songs when they didn't have a song we requested (e.g. Bye Bye Love instead of Bye Bye Bye) and other times songs just didn't ever get played. But we laughed our way through attempting to sing along with Vietnamese pop, a capella-d our way through lulls, and bonded all night. It was a fitting send off.
Part 2
In the morning we said our first set of goodbyes as three people set out for their institutions. I had my last day checklist items ready and Violet and I went adventuring. Our first destination was the French Quarter. Mapless (but informed) and bold, we wandered confidently in the general direction of the southeast side of the lake, stopping whenever and wherever we felt so inclined, taking pictures of the things I'd been meaning to photograph all along.
Shoe store with giant shoe and tiny shoe
The pagoda in the lake, a quintessential Hanoi image.
We got to the lake from an entirely different angle than expected, but we got there. We passed by the Monopole, an old hotel with a classic cyclo outside; we passed the French Institute, and we got to the opera house, the essence of the French Quarter. I had expected the French Quarter to be more of a distinctive, cohesive area of Hanoi, but though it was not it still felt like we were strolling down a strange, tropical, bamboo décor, European avenue.
Paris or Hanoi?
After lunch we went to an ice cream place that has been around since 1958. The ice cream is in popsicle form and the flavors are distinctly Asian: green bean, coconut, and young rice. I had the young rice and it was delicious. It mostly just tasted sweet and creamy and refreshing. I wish I had discovered it sooner. At a bookstore I bought a book in English and Vietnamese that tells the story of Tet (the lunar new year celebration), an epic tale if there ever was one. If you have the patience, you can look forward to reading it in February, when it is celebrated.
Having spent several hours walking in the sun, Violet and I decided to head back to the hotel for a break. Later, we walked back to the lake to sit on a rooftop cafe to watch the sunset. Our plans didn't quite work out, but we did end up on the fourth floor of a cafe that faced South and overlooked a roundabout on the north side of the lake. Eventually we did make it to the rooftop cafe, but the sunset was hidden behind the many tall buildings around it. We watched the sky pale into darkness, saw the colored lanterns around the lake light up, listened to a fellow patron strum his guitar, and watched an industrial rat climb up and down the neighboring building. It was one of those moments that feels like it could go on forever, and yet so clearly communicates that things are ending.
How many directions of movement do you see? How many modes of transportation?
Overlooking the lake at night
There were other things on my to do list that have been transposed to the metaphorical 'next time' list. In clothing stores all over town, a sometimes disturbing array of mannequins haunts the windows and sidewalks. It is as though the old and misshapen mannequins of the rest of the world are put out to pasture here. Mannequins sport their wigs akimbo, often with a chin strap keeping them in place. The clothes are so small that all of the mannequins are forced to have their flies down or their dresses unzipped. A few days ago I saw a mannequin whose nose had been broken off, and a display window that has been left undisturbed long enough that there was a pall of dust on the mannequin's wigs and shoulders. They often have undersized heads or makeup that seems modeled after an 80s aesthetic. Of the many shop-specific streets in the Old Quarter, one of the ones I find most striking is the mannequin street. Store after store with rows of naked bodies painted in flesh tones or silver and child mannequins with eerie airbrushed faces. There are rows of mannequins with only the lower half of a face, or that are just legs. I had wanted to go there and photograph the bizarre collection to share with you all, but my words will have to do.
Here is just a taste of the mannequins around the city.
To not end on that note, here's a picture of me on the back of my Vietnamese teacher's bike. Don't worry, it was just a photo-op; I didn't get to ride around town with her.
Tomorrow I'm off to Ben Tre. Here goes.
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