Does anyone else - apart from us old bags - remember Ho Chi Minh the famous leader of the Vietcong?
The Vietnam War is still present with us. Ho-Ho-Ho Chi Minh, that was the slogan on the streets, but that was a long time ago and just as long (in September 1969) Uncle Ho was called to his ancestors.
But his last wish to be cremated was not granted, and so he is now lying in a huge mausoleum. I love these morbid places, and so I set off to visit Uncle Ho's final resting place ...
A different Hanoi
This is not the old Hanoi as I met yesterday; it is the modern part with wide avenues along pompous buildings guarded by grim soldiers. Map in hand, I follow the dead straight boulevards leading to the mausoleum.
Standing in front of a huge square, I take the direct route to the strange looking building in the middle, but I am immediately called back. Soldiers with (loaded?) rifles point in the direction I am supposed to go, and so I have to walk around the huge field like everyone else.
The reason is kind of hard to comprehend, but foreign lands, foreign customs.
Ho-Ho-Ho Chi Minh - memories of Ho Chi Minh
As expected, I'm not the only one.
In addition to a thousand Vietnamese and other slit-eyed neighbors, a considerable number of Western tourists have also assembled, including an astonishing number of Americans. I am almost sure that this might be the ultimate triumph of the old warhorse, if he could experience how they dutifully arrange themselves in rows of two and then let themselves be led at a controlled pace to the entrance of the mausoleum.
Macabre moments
I have experienced some really macabre moments, but this is one of the highlights. In the middle of the room, illuminated by bright white light, there is the sarcophagus, in it, pale, drawn by rigor mortis, with a pointed nose, lies Uncle Ho, exposed for eternity to the curiosity of his descendants.
A deathly silence surrounds the sarcophagus, one can only hear the soft taps of the feet on the floor, sometimes the startled inhalation of a child, the soft coughing of someone being moved. And there is indeed a feeling of being touched. Within five minutes, the time it takes to walk around the sarcophagus, it's all over, and you can't help but take a deep breath of fresh air. Ho-Ho-Ho-Chi-Minh ...
The Ho Chi Minh Museum
The museum, located just a few steps outside the mausoleum, is dedicated to the great national hero Ho. There is a wonderful word for it in English, also onomatopoeically correct: DULL. And indeed it is. Pure hero worshipping, but banal, uninspired, without any style. One leaves the place of horror with hurried steps ...
In search of the way back
And then a new horror, as if Uncle Ho hadn't been enough - I've lost the city map, the compass essential for finding the way back to more familiar territory. How do I - a proven orientation nerd - find the long and tricky way back to the hotel? Sure, I might take a taxi or a rischka, but one thing is of crucial importance: the name of the hotel. But it has slipped my mind.
Without much conviction, but with the experience that in the end everything still turned out well, the nerd sets off, searches for known landmarks, surprisingly finds them, and step by step approaches the world he thinks to know. The small shop where the owner tried to sell him fresh mangos or the bright yellow painted catholic church where he was refused entry. And then suddenly and unexpectedly - Cua Dong.
My street. My hotel. My rescue.
P.S. Matching Song: Jimmy Cliff - Vietnam
And here the journey continues ...
