hanoi – Humanposting

Epilogue

*this is the most recent post that is actually on this blog. The conclusion to my summer travels, and a long-overdue one. Thank you for waiting, and I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog’s travels*

It’s taken a broken adaptor and couple of days for me to separate myself from my laptop screen, but said separation has allowed me to reflect on my time and enjoy the closing days to the maximum. As my grandmother rightly wrote to me, this trip deserves a conclusion and it would be insane to not give myself and whoever is actually reading this closure.

Claude Lévi-Strauss once wrote that “feasts are good for eating, drinking, and thinking“. It is on this thought that I have been dwelling in the last few days as I really felt myself and my ability to converse coming into their own. I’ve often interpreted Lévi-Strauss’ comment to take “thinking” as an overarching observation on the innate social effects that commensal eating and drinking have on human beings. Sharing is caring: whether it be sharing in an experience, or the last beer of an evening. Social bonds manifest themselves stronger when there is something to link the divide between two or more people. The divide in this case, can be a language barrier that frequently has had me at a loss in trying to communicate my desires, likes and plans through the often mysterious structure of Japanese.

My time living in a host family is exactly and more than what I expected, as I have mentioned briefly in previous updates. Japanese hospitality and kindness is unparalleled. My road trip to Shimane Prefecture last week with my host mother, her son and gramps allowed me to fully appreciate this for the first time. The seemingly mundane experiences of visiting a museum together, laughing over a meal that was too hot or reading a (ominous) fortune at the Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine might not be innately exciting, but these small things are what allow for a common ground to be forged between people that can make human interactions so valuable. Naturally, the beauty of what was visited must not be forgotten or underestimated, as all my experiences in Japan have been.

It also happened to finally coincide with the official end of the rainy season, as announced to me triumphantly by heralding in a scorching heat that persisted for the remainder of my time, embellishing the Adachi Museum of Art and the Grand Shrine much to their advantage.

The heat and a sky of perfect blue led me by the hand on Friday morning to the famous island of Miyajima. I was admittedly nervous as I was on my way to spend the weekend with Prof. Kitano and his class from the Hiroshima University of Economics; unsure if I would be an unwelcome presence or stick out like a sore European thumb. I was relieved to leave on Sunday after what could possibly have been one of the most happy and unique memories that I might have in my life so far.

(Kitano is the charmingly witty and ridiculously intelligent man who put me in contact with my host family). I received a VIP tour of the Itsukushima Shrine and the Daishō-in Temple by the vice-chief monk, and wrapped it up with an Okonomiyaki and grilled oyster lunch with Kitano. It was at this point that I met the class – third year media and business students, and for 2 days I felt as though I was one of them. We ate dinner together, drank (lots) together and talked until early. It felt as though Lévi-Strauss himself were perched on my shoulder, contently watching as we shared a communal Sukiyaki and as we slowly became better and better friends. I struggle to remember a different time where I have been more warmly welcomed immediately into a group without question.

To take things to a more poetic standpoint the climb up the albeit small Mt. Misen the next morning was an experience that slowly carved a bond out with every mossy, damp step that brought us closer to our goal. The reward of a view of the Seto inland sea, dotted with islands in the distance looked like a scene that could have been painted by Yokoyama Taikan in the halls of the Adachi Musuem. Islands shrouded by undulating mirages, with white beaches and tree-covered hills in a sea of deep deep blue. It is a view that for me might sum up my entire trip, tangible yet slightly surreal when I look back. An experience that stands as alone as some of the distant islands that I could see shrouded in excitement and mystery.

I’m glad and honoured that I made friends in that short period of time. After sitting in Japanese classes learning the formalities and grammar for 8 years, being able to kick back with a beer and casually joke about them with young people in casual Japanese is a reward unlike no other after so many years of studying and learning.

Hitching a ride back to Hiroshima on Sunday evening as passenger on Reishi’s motorbike was unbearably cool. I now understand why people ride motorbikes. He even invited me to the onsen and a dinner at his dad’s ramen restaurant. Pretty awesome guy.

I was sad to leave my host family and my new friends yesterday morning. However, all good things must come to an end. I wrote this whilst in transit in Hanoi, and the feeling of retracing my steps is nostalgic and is helping me to come to terms with the month that has just elapsed, and the things that I’ve done, seen, eaten, drank, the people I’ve met, the conversations I’ve had. It gives me a taste for more. More things that I can experience, more things that I can crystallise in my mind as invaluable memories. Travelling alone has provided the freedom that I crave to immerse myself into myself and the things that are happening directly around me at every second. I can think of no other time when I have not relished every single second of a day. The blog has more or less kept me in touch with the world, and you will be relieved to know that this is the end of travel blogging. Thank you for reading. Expect more and more varied blogs from here on out.

Good Morning Vietnam

It’s fair to say that waking up in a country completely changes your impression of it. Although I had been out until 1:30 in the local bars and set an alarm for 9:30, I still woke up at 7:30? Something about it bothered me (understandably). Perhaps that it was that I had failed to combat jetlag, or perhaps it was the unfamiliar feeling of a natural wake up after an actually decent night’s sleep… something that isn’t exactly common for those who know me. But what this did bring to me was the sensation of rising and waking up at the same time as my gracious host, Hanoi. It set the pace for my last day, a pace that put me in tune with this vibrant city and this is exactly what I want to nail every time I go to new places – harmony.

I should mention that I was accompanied today by George and Laura (shoutout you guys rule) who called me over to join them while seeing me eat spring rolls and drink beer alone in the bar. Legends.

I’ve never really been one for sweet breakfast, so breakfast consisted of more freshly fried spring rolls, poached eggs and fresh fruit. I don’t think I could have wished for a better start to the day. Except maybe a better internet connection. The plan for the day was to 1) visit the Mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh 2) visit the Temple of Literacy and 3) eat an actual Vietnamese Pho. This seemed simple given that all three of these things are available within a 2.5km radius. But, there is a large soggy catch. You have to also factor in the walking part. The walking part, which feels more like a swim given that every step is equivalent to losing 5 gulps of bottled water. You haven’t actually sweat properly until you can literally feel the sweat passing through your pores in a 33°C humid nightmare.

The Mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh is massive. The building in itself might not be all that massive, but only when you take into account the size of the accompanying parade square, the residence museum behind, and the sheer amount of security at least two blocks in every direction can you understand the profound importance of Ho Chi Minh and what he represents for Vietnam. The Communists love monumentality in the commemoration of their leaders, and it is not by coincidence that the feeling of walking around this place reminded me of being inside the Kremlin. Minus the buckets of sweat. The museum behind it and the small cool rooms of Ho Chi Minh’s residence embellish Ho Chi Minh’s semi-mythical position as a man of the people, in the true Communist meaning of it.

The Temple of Literature is a marvel. If one could describe the Mausoleum as Holy for the Vietnamese, for me this 11th-century Confucian temple is just as holy. Beautifully designed, long straight paths, symmetrical perfectly-kept gardens and soft, muted serene wooden halls that put even the most humble of Japanese temples to shame. The Chinese influence is glaringly obvious. But perhaps this is what makes it beautiful, another piece to the puzzle that is Vietnamese heritage. A place to worship success in studying, it felt particularly gratifying and appropriate to present my student card for a discounted entry. Hoan Kiem lake and this are probably two places I have discovered that will be extremely difficult to not daydream about once I get home.

The day has been long. It has been sweaty. It has been tiring. There was no more fitting way to conclude my time in Hanoi by the epic “train track street” sandwiched between Kham Tien and Le Duan. It’s rare to have bars and restaurants spilling onto actual functional train tracks, as I found out when the train passed less than a metre away from my face. I also almost forgot to mention that I did get a Pho in the end – and yes, it was as good as people say. It was bittersweet climbing into the taxi to the airport, where I am writing this, as I felt that I had had a full taste of what this place could offer me. To bring it back to harmony, it didn’t feel right to leave just as the city began to come alive for the night. A shame for sure, but I won’t let it leave a bad taste in my mouth. And honestly, the Banh Mi I just ate was pretty decent, so Hanoi and I are parting ways on good terms.

There aren’t many other cities where I have experienced so much new in a mere 2 days. Where else would I have showered in a hotel lobby, seen a rat the size of a small dog, been offered more cocaine and more prostitutes than in my entire life whilst also paying my respects to one of the most peaceful men of the 20th century? Hanoi. It’s hard not to love this place. I will be back, and with a vengeance and a thirst for more of the craziness.

Tomorrow I will be in Fukuoka, Japan. I am anxious and excited to rediscover this country, this time on my own so Hiromu Onogi if you’re reading this, I hope you’re proud of me.

A Night in Hanoi

Vietnam. The ubiquitous destination to “find yourself” while you get your A-levels or IB remarked for a deferred entry to university. Top Gear did it first, and by the looks of it, they won’t be the last by a long shot. Cynicism aside, Vietnam has always been alluring to me and I can understand how alluring it is to thousands of tourists every year. I can also confirm in multiple cases that motorbiking across Vietnam on a gAp YaH is and can be a life changing experience that I do not overlook.

Vietnam in my mind wore a shroud of mystery. Francis Ford Coppolla’s Apocalypse Now evokeda feeling of intangible curiosity and mystery about this country that would have made Joseph Conrad froth at the mouth. Naturally, this film touches on a slightly more uncomfortable part of Vietnamese cultural identity, and is most likely unfair to use this as a proxy as to how I felt about the country. Nevertheless, the overhanging enchanting mystery of Vietnam has drawn me like a moth to fire, and quite unintentionally at that.

I am sat in my hotel room in the Hoan Kiem district in Hanoi. The air conditioning takes my mind off the sweltering heat outside, and the ruckus of scooters, taxis and vendors on Bat Dan street 5 floors below is soothingly familiar. Hoan Kiem is one of the most remarkable places I have ever seen. The only place I can remember in my memory that comes close is the Jemaa el-Fnaa souk in Marrakech. Old districts of old cities are understandably and frequently crowded, close, and (now) busy – the one thing that I finds unites these kinds of places is that they feel more like organisms than streets and shops. The streets of Hoan Kiem are literally alive.

Food stalls spill onto pavements catering to army officials, grandmothers, men in suits, whilst families of 5 zoom by on their scooter with the daily shopping hanging precariously off the sides. Tourists (myself amongst them) are all too familiar with the traffic situation in Hanoi: red lights and green lights feel like a pure courtesy rather than law. Terror grabbed me when I got off the bus from the airport, but it turns out that navigating the heaving anarchy of Hoan Kiem’s daily traffic is simple. Like schools of fish, the oncoming traffic swarms through you. The incessant honking and shouting of the driivers is the unsaid language that allows for such chaos to function in such a crowded space.

The thing I love the most about discovering new places are the smells. I think I have a particularly strong penchant for associating memory with smell – the smell of my first time in Japan will be engrained in my mind forever, as will the smell of this city (this is the hard part). Let it first be said that Hanoi is hot in July. Hoan Kiem especially oozes with the sharp scents of lemongrass and gasoline, coupled with intoxicating odours of fried meat and the sickly sweet smell of what I can only assume is either durian or festering waste. Hanoi smells heavy. It smells close. Not many people would describe this city like this, but to me this is so intricately part of the animate quality of the city that I feel that it alone can characterise what it feels like to walk down these old streets.

Having arrived in Vietnam at 4:30 this morning, awake since 7:00 the day before and with a check in at 12:00pm, I’ve spent the majority of the morning walking these streets getting my bearings. Bahn Mi, Bun Cha have been the highlights of today’s culinary side. I did not however locate the shop called Bun Cha Obama, blessed by the presence of the former president and endorsed by him… I have however, found my quiet place in Hanoi today. It is hard to describe the calm I felt sitting at the edge of Hoan Kiem lake with a book for 3 hours. Sure, I was asked for 3 interviews with high school kids doing an English project and took 5 photos with 5 different groups of Chinese tourists in the space of an hour. But I didn’t mind. Exiting the Hoan Kiem labyrinth to relax and read by the side of a lake in the shade is an experience that maybe, just maybe, I could put on par with the gappies who found themselves too in Vietnam.