Lying in wait

You would have thought Justin Beiber was in Hanoi, or maybe that a K-Pop group was visiting. But no, it was just the usual Sunday line to get in to see Uncle Ho's body in the mausoleum. The line stretched over 3,000 meters, some three to five people wide. I wondered how many people were coming for the first time and how many were repeat visitors. There were elderly people, including an old woman with black laquered teeth (a beautifying practice from that generation), young couples, and families with small children. May I point out that this means that sweating it out to stare at (pay homage to) a dead body counts as ideal family time as much as a pleasant date. The line inched forward for eons, except when the bold darted forward to cut in line when the guards weren't looking, or when the aggressive elbowed their way through the more passive and patient. The guards did their best to quell the rampant cutting, but to do that effectively they would have needed eyes on all sides of their heads. At one point, some indignant Italians decided to take it upon themselves to physically block and shout at anyone who tried to cut ahead in line. I found this rather amusing, as one of the first things you learn in Italy is that maintaining an orderly line is not really their forte. I wanted to talk to them, but was reticent to interrupt them while they were so focused. After about an hour and a half, we made it to the entrance of the mausoleum. Still outside, the sudden chill of air conditioning sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. The thing about visiting Uncle Ho is that not only do you have to stand outside forever, you are required to wear respectful attire, aka pants. So it's hot. And inside it was amazingly cool (dare I say cold). By far the best air conditioning in all of Hanoi. But I should be talking about the preserved body on display, not the air conditioning keeping the dead from sweating.

Uncle Ho was in a glass case with spotlights on his head and hands. I found the lighting both logical and symbolic. A guard stood at each corner. He reminded me of the perfectly (miraculously) preserved body of a former pope on display in St. Peter's in the Vatican and of the life-size figures of Jesus that I have seen in churches in Guatemala. As is proper behavior regarding the latter, I assume you should not turn your back on Uncle Ho's body (this is also proper protocol regarding household ancestral altars). Indeed, the path in the viewing area was arranged such that this would not happen unless done deliberately. After all of the waiting, the viewing was brief but surprisingly poignant. While in line I debated whether all of this wait would be worth it. In retrospect, I don't regret having waited, though I probably wouldn't have regretted not seeing it, either. I'm glad I saw him, and I do feel that the waiting in line somehow contributed to the whole experience at large.
The picture below is from our failed attempt yesterday. No cameras are allowed inside the mausoleum.

 
Allow me to rewind about six hours. I woke up at 6am to go to Vietnamese mass in the cathedral. Here, men and women usually sit on opposite sides of the church, but Lam decided to sit on the women's side with me. Mass was a beautiful experience. I simultaneously understood nothing yet knew exactly what was happening. I quickly decoded the words for God and 'brothers and sisters'. I also recognized a few numbers. When I realized that it would soon be time to 'share with one another a sign of peace', during which people usually say 'peace be with you', I had a brief moment of panic. I had no idea what to say, and I didn't want to come off as rude for being unable to reply in kind. Fortunately, I discovered that in Vietnam people don't talk, hug, or shake hands like we do; they silently bow to one another. Easy enough. My favorite part of any mass is the singing, and here it was even more wonderful than usual. In the US, it seems like people only sing if they feel confident enough to do so. Here, because it is a singing culture, the church was filled with voices raised in song. It was truly amazing.

Now, fast forward to where I left off. We met up with other people in our group and headed to lunch, another rice place, though without the option of larvae this time. By the time lunch was over, we were all pretty wiped out from the long morning, and decided to head back to the hotel. We decided to walk rather than take a cab and the walk took us through some new areas of town, including the Citadel, a war memorial, and a flower market.

After resting for a few hours, Melissa and I went shopping at a 'mall' recommended by one of our coordinators. The mall turned out to be a department store that required you to check your bag (but not your wallet) at the entrance. Just like at the night market, most of the clothes were tiny. Trying on shorts felt like testing out some kind of circulation obstructing diaper. In keeping with the scale of things, the dressing rooms were so small that if I put my hands on my hips my elbows touched the opposite walls. I saw two women come out of one dressing room, and I wondered how they managed to try anything on without injuring each other. I bought one pair of miracle shorts and a shirt. On the way back to the hotel I saw the edges of sunset for the first time (usually I seem to be inside at that hour) and when we passed the lake, decorative colored lights in the trees made it yet another lovely site. I am starting to get my bearings.