The beautiful woman has awakened
Why am I remembering this face right now? Her name is An, and she squats down to me on the wide, white Pacific beach and peels me a pineapple. An has a complexion like milk-coffee-colored rice paper, just white teeth and a few laugh lines in the corners of his eyes. She's 50, she has three children, her husband is dead. All this she tells me beaming in English as she carves on the fruit with a crooked old knife. I also buy her tiger balm and mint oil for a headache, so she continues to smile so beautifully. How long has she been a widow, I want to ask. But she comes before me with her question, nods to the photographer Joerg Modrow over: "Her husband?" - "A colleague," I say, "we work together, want to report on Vietnam." An smiles conspiratorially. As she leaves, she puts her hand on my arm: "Maybe later her husband?"
On is the face of Vietnam: graceful and a little bit distant. As the sun goes down, I run into the roaring Pacific. The islands on the horizon are ink drawings, the wind blows away the last heat, and the sky drops incredibly thick, tropical drops.
Vietnam - I never thought that this country could ever be anything but a reminder of unbearable news. Now it has become a tourist destination for people who enjoy discovering. We have ten days to explore the city, country and river. By bike and rickshaw, by ship and plane, by car and train, we are on the road, about 1700 kilometers from Hanoi to Saigon.
On the way to Vietnam
The city is in a good mood.
Hanoi, the Nordic beauty, is decorated for the 10th National Congress of the Communist Party. Red flags, yellow hammer and sickle symbols, posters of heroes on the streets, open-air stages on the squares - those who, like me, were born in the GDR, feel strangely reminded. But I never knew it that way: The youth, constantly on the move on millions of motorcycles, outshines the stale heroic symbols. Girls sit just as casually with straight back behind the handlebars as men. All are young - the average age of the population is 25 years - and the few older motorized people, with chickens, flower bundles or a pig on the move, look like 35 at age 50. Life triumphs over the myth, every single moment I see on the roadside stand, watch, wait, enjoy and can not cross, because there is no traffic light, no pedestrian crossing, no lanes, only unstoppable rolling traffic.
In the evening, Hanoi does not calm down. Much happier. A few thousand spectators on Modeps jam in front of the central stage at Hoan Kiem Lake and watch jugglers, dancers with hoops and karate fighters. The excitement spills up to us, which we are looking at the scene from the balcony of the "Highland Café" with excellent latte macchiato and cream ice cream. The live music, hymnic with Asia-like sound, is accompanied by high-spirited honking concerts. Youth is celebrating, no matter what. Good mood is the basic feeling. The mood of an emerging society. The economy is growing at an annual rate of seven percent. You can not see percentages, but that there is everything important and unimportant to buy, that trade is omnipresent - that's not to be overlooked.
The line in front of Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum is long. He wanted to be burned, not laid bare. Nevertheless, he is now here to visit. We fry in the queue at almost 40 degrees and feel inside, in the dimly cool, the uninterrupted awe of all for this delicate man. Outside in the nearby park of the French governor's palace, our companion Binh tells us in the best of German: The 1,126 delegates to the congress have just decided that a party member may also be a capitalist. And they are discussing the renaming of the party. Our city tour leads logically from Uncle Ho's modest wooden house, which he had disregarded luxury built next to the French palace, straight to the literary temple Van Mieu. In the first university of Vietnam taught Confucius' first successor. Between the avenues, pools, gates and pavilions dwell the protective spirits of the poets and thinkers. Silence falls from the sky, only distant honking reminds of the profane present. The turtles in front of the Fountain of Heavenly Clarity are wisdom turned to stone: they bear the names of the wisest scholars of three centuries. A Hall of Honor of Great Success is to be crossed. Sublime concepts of a strange world.
When we ride the rickshaw through the old town, we are the slowest. The houses are four times as wide as they are wide, each one has a shop on the ground floor. There are streets where fabrics are sold, streets where there are only lamps. Or musical instruments. Or motorbike spare parts and workshops. Or karaoke bars. From time to time also an internet cafe, full of young men.Ho Chi Minh images and Buddhas alternate. The old town is a department store made up of dozens of streets. On a motorcycle seat, a gentle old woman is holding a crouching siesta. In the middle of the crowd, an old gentleman from another time - all in white with a white beard. He comes to me smiling, wants to be photographed with me.
Binh takes us to his living room-restaurant. Here he eats while he puts the tourists in a fancy restaurant around the corner. But we want spring roll from a private kitchen, served in the living room of a family, which is a simple food stall during the day. The TV is blaring in a high-gloss wall unit, the cook brings chilled water and napkins, and forks. But we take chopsticks. Despite heat refreshes the 2.5 million city. No jetlag, no strangulation. Hanoi hugs us like good friends.
After three days and a trip to the beautiful Halong Bay - flooded Alps, 3000 peaks in the ocean - Binh puts us on the reunification express. It connects North and South, Hanoi and Saigon, the metropolises are 1700 kilometers apart. But we travel - in an air-conditioned sleeping car, along with two globetrotting Australians - first to the middle of the country: to Hué. The old imperial city, known for the beauty of women.
The country is passing green.
Rice fields line the track since the sun has risen - reaching to the horizon, water buffalos standing in trenches, almost motionless. The country is as juicy as the city was colorful. And above all lies something like: dignity. Or is it the sheer beauty that gives me this term? It is also respect for the people we learn to understand each day better.
The flow of fragrances connects.
Hué clings smoothly to the shore from both sides. A wide bridge swings over it. I smell nothing, but the ride on the boat from Tú is doing well. On the banks are weathered houseboats, 20,000 people live on the river. They dig gravel off the ground, sell it to build, they fish, go to the market as a dealer. They all have a TV, but they rarely send kids to school. Also Tú is one of the beauty of the river. She used to shovel gravel with her father, now she has a boat and chairs with her husband, driving tourists around. Where there are no houseboats, the shores are as well maintained as the best facilities on the Alster. And Tú smiles incessantly, looks gorgeous in her dark blue Todai dress. She has four daughters, her grandmother looks after the two little ones.
The boat takes off from the pagoda Thiem Mu. Nam, our companion in Hué, tells of rites he believes in. Many Vietnamese worship their ancestors and bring incense sticks to contact them. Nam says, "The smoke is a phone line up." And he explains the cult: "Without our past no present or future - that's what we think." Nam, who pays homage to the ancestors, saw a truck full of dead at 13 in Hanoi. The family had moved from the south to the north during the war. He longed for the South for 23 years, and Nam also means longing for the South. "Everything is connected with everything," says Nam, looking with us at the green river of fragrances. "You have to forgive, but do not forget."
Another river that carries us.
The Thu Bon flows a little further south, we go in the harbor of the small town Hoi An on board, chug past beautiful old houses, all in fresh pastel colors. You have to cancel it every year because there are floods every year. Then people take their important things and relocate to relatives for a few weeks. When they come back they renovate. In the larger houses live rich, especially tourism manager, says our third companion on the trip, he is like the first: Binh and has studied just like him in Saxony. "Hotel managers are mostly foreigners who know what tourists need, but owners are locals." Binh the second knows what makes a river cruise more beautiful.
We get off the motorboat to a shallow fishing boat. Just 20 centimeters, the weathered wood looks out of the water. Tran Thi, the fisherman's wife, is 80. Her little face almost disappears under the pointy straw hat, she smiles broadly and toothless when I ask her about her children. Six were, two sons died in the war. She has been married for 61 years. Her husband stands barefoot and legs apart in the bow of the narrow wooden boat, throwing a net into the water with a sure swing, it sinks circularly, after a while he pulls it up again. Two silver little fish wriggle in it. "The fish is going back," says the woman. "But what can you do?" The two elders will fish until they die, Binh later notes. There is no pension. "After all," he adds, "the state pays the medical care for the poor." It sounds proud.
The small town likes guests.
In the evening in the market of Hoi An Tina intercepts me, swirly, in the orange dress, carefully made up: "Massage, Madame?" And already I'm lying in a wood shed on a terry-bed and are being processed. All tension goes.The shoe saleswoman next door brings photos of shoes that her husband can do to me. Tina babbles. "Does the husband want a massage too? That's what my husband does, better if he makes a husband of a man." - "Is not my husband," I mumble obediently, "is my colleague." - "Yes, yes," Tina chatters. In the end, we go under the hook of the market, she wants to introduce me to her sister, who is expecting her second child at the age of twenty-one. I'm supposed to order a dress from her, "quite cheap, ready tomorrow," she says. I do not want a dress, not even handmade shoes. They live on it, but I can not make everyone happy. Today Tina is happy because she deserves something. Finally, her husband comes on the moped, brings the freshly massaged photographer and then drove us one by one into the place that Tina's brother belongs.
The next morning we take the bike to drive to the market, over the river bridge, along the harbor. It scents of herbs and fried, the shoe saleswoman beckons to me, men play at the roadside Domino, dogs are in the shade. In the evening at the beach I meet An again, eat her pineapple, drink a Vietnamese beer - and just want to stay.
The land is blooming.
Around the city is agriculture. First organic farms are created. 20 minutes to Tra Que. There a family had a business idea: Let's get guests from the city, show them our vegetable and herb fields, cook for them, chat with them. And Hoi An has a destination more. The entrance fee is one dollar. Before serving in the beautiful, new bamboo building, we drink green tea at the family of grandfather Tran Lu. On sparkling polished tiles are bamboo chairs, sitting on a carpet women with a baby and watching TV. Her grandmother, Le Thi Mai, is 70 years old. She was a partisan and was tortured by Americans to reveal hide-and-seeks. Now she is dumb and looks through us. Her daughter-in-law Nga tells that recently a tall blond man was standing at the door. The American had been a pilot in the area and now on a nostalgic journey. He wanted to know from them how they think about America today. Nga, who speaks English well, told him on behalf of his grandfather: "The war is past, we have opened both arms for you." I hug her baby, we laugh, laugh, I swallow my reverence as a lump in my throat. And remember: Here you can learn to forgive.
In the village restaurant we are the only guests, eating mint pancakes, chicken with sprouts, wrapped in wafer-thin rice patties with spicy fish sauce, pork wrapped in mint leaves, beef with vegetables and fried fish. The sentence of our companion in Hué comes back to me: Everything is connected with everything. Vietnam is suddenly an old way for me.
On our trips to the surrounding area, Binh enthuses: "From 180 countries, we were economically ranked 179 15 years ago. Today, we are 79th, having overtaken 100 countries." He wants his son to study computer engineering. As Binh talks about the progress, he shows us the mystical Cham sanctuaries of My Son. Dusky towers, the oldest of the 11th century, nestled in a lush valley. The sacred center of a once proud people was rediscovered only in the 20th century. Unfortunately, a few decades later they were in the midst of the American Free Fire Zone. 51 towers from various eras were destroyed. Funnels and craters are overgrown in green, but there is a rusty bombshell next to a Shiva sculpture.
Binh builds his own house, three bedrooms, two living rooms. "What you did not do at the age of 50, you'll never make it," he says. He is 47. I ask, "What do you still need the Communists for?" He laughs: "We do not need them, they need each other!" And the opposition? "Oh well, people have enough problems."
The largest city is garish and oblique.
Before we enter Ho Chi Minh City - or even Saigon - we see old wounds, 40 kilometers outside. The tunnel systems of Cu Chi. Anyone who has not yet understood how David defeated Goliath understands it all at once. In about 250 kilometers long tunnels, tunnels and dungeons lived 16,000 partisans, the occupiers had no chance. When they entered the area, they fell into traps, were impaled by bamboo spikes, padded in traps, out of grass-burrowed holes, the enemy jumped and shot, was gone as quickly as a haunt. A general of the US Army is said to have cried desperately: "We do not see them, but they are everywhere!" Today graying resistance fighters are creeping peacefully with Vietnam veterans from the US through the tunnels that document the horrors: how they baked bread underground, sewed shoes, made bombs from American unexploded ordnance and traps from agricultural equipment. Paradox: To date, the defensive 80 million people are unable to produce a single rifle. So that tourists get through here, the corridors were widened. At that time no GI could have moved here. Today they are welcome at the place of their shame.And the former fighters collect admission. Saigon is hotter, louder, fuller, bigger than Hanoi - not nicer. Shopping centers, banks, a city skyline like anywhere in the world. Only: In addition to the Cola advertising hang political slogans - congratulations on the day of reunification. Hero songs resonate through the lobby of this colonial-style hotel. We are not surprised anymore. Everything is connected with everything. At the top the red flag is blowing, and below the business is raging.
travel Guide
On the way with experts
On more than 600 pages, supplemented with detailed maps, it not only reads about country and people, about religion and culture, but also tells legends, explains peculiarities of the people, describes political highlights and national peculiarities. There are also tips for discovering the different regions, from the north to the Mekong Delta, from the highlands to the coasts. Anyone who has this ribbon sees more than the surface - it gets backgrounds that help understand. "Vietnam - the pearl of Indochina discover individually" (Reise Know-How, 22,50 Euro)
Caution: please no kisses!
In order not to run into trouble in Vietnam, you need this behavior ABC, because there are different rules. Not to adorn oneself while eating, but to say good-bye is one, but modest appearances are another. Women who hold Vietnamese men friendly on their forearms: frowned upon! A peck on the welcome? D rather not! And then: smile, smile, smile, especially with embarrassment or mishaps! Not only the mentality of the Vietnamese, but also their festivals and traditions are explained knowledgeably. It's best to read in advance to be completely relaxed - like the Vietnamese. "Culture shock Vietnam" (travel know-how, 14,90 Euro)
Stones tell history
Temples, monasteries and pagodas play a crucial role in the journey through the countries on the Mekong. Here, finally, the history of the peoples rests, and here it is alive. Who the Champa were and how they thought and felt - those insights are waiting for who stands in My Son and sees their still mighty, thousand-year-old sanctuaries. But also a walk through Hoi An, the small harbor town, is much more productive, if one is traveling with the knowledge of this art tour guide. "Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos" (DuMont Art Guide, 29,95 Euro)
High gloss - but really real
Yes, really: These pictures are as beautiful as the whole graceful country. And who believes that they have been smoothed, is wrong. That's how it actually looks like between Hanoi and Saigon. Those who are preparing their journey and leafing through the illustrated book, would like to fly right away, and those who have been there once sighs happily: There I was, and it was divine. "Vietnam, the most beautiful pictures" (Geo, 19,90 Euro)
politics
Forgive, do not forget
The Vietnam War was the longest war of the last century and the only one the US has lost so far. One can only guess what Vietnam would accomplish today had it not been for 30 years to defend everything. Vietnam travelers therefore need a basic understanding of the war-turmoil: Why did the Americans interfere with this? And how did it happen that the strongest army in the world failed? What does all this have to do with communism? The book features contemporary witnesses from both sides - from the CIA agent to the Vietnam veteran to the General of the Liberation Army. The result is a differentiated image, with which one can move more sensitively on the spot, when there is always talk of forgiveness. "Apocalypse Vietnam", Wolfgang Schneider (rororo non-fiction book, 9,90 Euro)
novel
Lost son looking for clues
As a child, Andrew X. Pham had fled with his family to the United States. Now he returns, travels through his old homeland. Impressive and touching, he describes his impressions and describes the story of his family against the background of the recent Vietnamese past. Phams book is novel, travelogue and family saga in one. And makes the successful reunification of North and South Vietnam, which every traveler feels, even more amazing. "Moon over the rice fields in the footsteps of my family through Vietnam", Andrew X. Pham (Goldmann, 9,90 Euro)
DVDs
Vietnam. , , before the war
On the eve of the war, the body of development worker Pyle (Brendan Fraser) is fished out of the water in Saigon. "The quiet American" In his lifetime, however, it was not just help in mind. His real employer was the CIA; his task: to weaken the underground communist regime; his mistake: to fall in love with the Vietnamese lover of his best friend (Michael Caine). Philip Noyce filmed Graham Greene's most political novel congenially.
, , .during the war
Three films about the Vietnam War have burned into our memory: Francis Ford Coppola's legendary and spectacular war hallucination "Apocalypse Now" (1979) with Marlon Brando, Oliver Stones shattering drama "Platoon"in which an inexperienced, idealistic student gets to know the murderous absurdity of war when his squad destroys a farming village, and Barry Levinsons "Good Morning, Vietnam" with Robin Williams as quasselstrippigem Army Disc jockey. All three films were rightly overwhelmed with awards (Oscar, Golden Globe).
, , .after the war
Saigon, late 90s: Rickshaw driver Hai loves the call girl Lan and tirelessly saves a night with her; Lotospflückerin An gives new inspiration to a poet disfigured by leprosy; Woody, the belly boy, wants his case back, and James Hagen (Harvey Keitel), US Marine a.D., is looking for his Vietnamese daughter, whom he only knows from the photo. Tony Buis movie "Three seasons" is a beguiling mix of city portrait and mosaic of fate
