This journal entry has been a week in development, but I wanted to wait until after today’s activities to put “pen to paper” (so to speak) and share with you one of my experiences here in Hanoi. To do so, I need to provide a bit of background. I am 65 years old and the Vietnam War ended April 1975. I graduated from high school in June 1975, at age 17. My father and grandparents lived in the Wash DC Area and my mother in rural Alabama. During the ‘60’s and ‘70’s, the US was exposed to truly some of the best journalists we’ve ever produced. Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, and Walter Cronkite. Whether I was with my mother or my father, it was these men who provided the news on what was happening on the other side of the world. The Vietnam War was the first “televised” war with journalists broadcasting from the field, not by radio or by movie reels, but by live television. As a nation, we collectively came to learn about a country in SE Asia, so different than our own through these broadcasts.
Between my mother working as an RN at an army hospital in Alabama and my paternal family living so close to the seat of our nation’s government, I listened and absorbed the conversations that swirled about me. The “Current Events” assignment of our history class was frequently peppered with the latest of what was happening on the front far from our daily lives.
I first visited Vietnam in 2005, approximately 8 days in the city and area around Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon. In 2014, I had the good fortune of spending 3 days again in that beautiful city. This is my first time in Hanoi.
Last Saturday, I took a tour of the different districts that make up Hanoi in an old Army jeep. I must admit that my first thought was, “Is this okay? Am I going to upset anyone I know for riding in a jeep that was once a part of a war?” The tour guide was a delight and pride in her country was evident. While it was a lovely experience, what took my breath away was one of the stops we made. We stopped at the home of an elderly man who served in the North Vietnamese Army. He has a deep love of music and played some traditional Vietnamese instruments for not just the 4 of us on the tour but for another small group of 4 that another guide was directing from the same company. Among that group was an older American black veteran. He and the Vietnamese man talked a bit about their roles in the war, using one of the tour guides as an interpreter. At the end of the conversation, they both stood and hugged. My breath caught in my throat. It was not for show, but a hug as only two old men who had fought a war neither of them ever designed could possibly do. Later, we were all lunching at the same café, and I made it point to introduce myself to the veteran, thank him for his service, and tell him just how much his exchange with the Vietnamese veteran meant to me. His words to me are for me, but know they are cherished.
Picture of the Vietnamese War Veteran. He now plays music for guests and watches over his great-granddaughter (age 3).
Pictures are of the jeep me and 3 Aussies toured in and the neighborhood surrounding the amazing cafe where we ate.
Pictures: (L) Me outside of the auditorium at Vin University, awaiting the bus for today's adventure. (R) One of their wonderful senior nursing students who was "assigned" to "take care of me"! :-)
So, today- Vin University’s nursing program made arrangements for the nursing students, some nursing faculty and me to tour the Ho Chi Minh Museum and the Hanoi Prison. Again, I felt a bit strange but saw this as an opportunity to learn more about the Vietnamese culture and the culture of Hanoi at a time where my orientation was strictly based upon what was shown on the US news at the time. Most of the students had been to both places but for the majority, it had been 10-15 years since they had toured. The museum is a beautiful place. It is a tribute to art as well as the history of the man’s time and the modern history of the Socialist Republic of VietNam.
Pictures: Top Row L to R: Statue of Ho Chi Minh, a beloved father figure to the Vietnamese people. Our group. One of our senior nursing students who did a terrific job in the role of tour guide at both the museum and the prison. Bottom Row L to R: A wax figure of Ho Chi Minh in a replica of his simple home office. An art exhibit displaying artifacts of war. A tribute to the lotus blossom, Ho Chi Minh's favorite flower. On that- we can both agree. They are a beautiful flower! The museum was built in the shape of the lotus blossom.
Pictures: Top to Bottom- L to R: Front of prison. One of the cell block doors. Exhibit showing how prisoners were shackled. Description of the name "HaNoi Hilton". A young John McCain. The last two pictures describe training the public received promoting personal safety during bombing runs.
Touring the prison was definitely an emotional challenge, but I am glad that I went. Prisons are not pleasant places and this one, first run by French Colonialists and later the Communists during the Vietnam War, has its ghosts and horrors. It was there, at the “Hanoi Hilton”, (a name given by the US POWs) that John McCain was a prisoner for 5 ½ years. I’ve included a picture of a young McCain in his prison garb.
The prison provided a stunning meandering mural taking up a courtyard that shows what daily life was like for citizens of Hanoi due to US bombing raids. But it also goes on to share stories of veterans, from both sides, coming together in efforts to bring personal peace to their lives. Much like what I witnessed. Two old men, two veterans, two languages, brought together by one war and sealed together by the one embrace.
Postcards from Hanoi May 27, 2023,
Karen
Hanoi's Future Nurses! The newest cohort includes three students from Nigeria. What a joyous bunch they are.
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