Good Morning Vietnam

Traveling truly destroys preconceived notions. I was expecting to land in a steamy, tropical country as Vietnam was portrayed in Hollywood. Chilling wind blew across Hoan Kiem Lake to welcome us to Hanoi. It was so cold we had to scramble to buy scarves and gloves for the kids.

I expected the hustle and bustle of a busy metropolis like Manila but I saw a tranquil lake steeped in lore and legend at the center of the City. Beautiful Hoan Kiem Lake, where the giant tortoise granted the magic sword to the Emperor Le Thai To so he could repulse the Chinese invaders only to snatch it again after victory so that peace may reign. We walked across the red bridge to the Ngoc Son temple in the middle of the lake and offered a prayer. I prayed for the happiness of my family and I thanked the gods for bringing us to the enchanting land of Vietnam.

Hustle and bustle there was, too, when we arrived at the Old Quarter. It is truly ancient as it has been the heart of a city that is a thousand years old. My wife was becoming cranky so I led them towards Silk Street where the beautiful scarves and dresses were sure to make her happy. Silk was only one of forty other products sold in the quarter where each street is devoted to a specific trade. It is really one large marketplace and my wife called it a huge Divisoria. It was both stressful and charming at the same time as thousands of honking motorcycles competed with the shoppers and vendors for the cramped space of the narrow streets. To take a break, we hailed a couple of cyclos and spent an hour just taking in the sight and sounds of every street.

As we walked back to our hotel, we stopped by a cafe beside Hoan Kiem lake and ordered Vietname's famous coffee. Vietnam is the second largest producer of this sublime drink. Sipping rich and thick black coffee beside the lake amidst the cold winter air was a great moment.

I expected Communist propaganda everywhere especially as we went to the Ho Chi Minh Museum and Mausoleum, but I did not expect to be actually impressed by the courage and heroism of Vietnam's freedom fighters. I find the call to defeat the American imperialists and their running dogs amusing, but I can only respect how they defeated both France, their former colonizer, at the glorious Battle of Dien Bien Phu, and the world's superpower through a war of attrition culminating in the Tet Offensive. Uncle Ho is probably not the saint he is made out to be, but a leader he was and he led his countrymen to freedom.

I expected beautiful Eastern art as we went to the Museum of Fine Arts. I did not expect to be floored by magnificent works of silk embroidery, silk paintings and lacquer paintings.

Just across the street, we walked to the thousand year old Temple of Literature, a temple and university dedicated to Confucius. Van Mieu is a series of five courtyards culminating in a temple to Confucius. One of the courtyards showcased the stelae of doctors signifying their scholastic achievements. Perhaps I will no longer be a doctor of philosophy myself as I have chosen a different path, but I was glad the one I chose enabled me to take my family to Vietnam to see the work of those ancient doctors and to venerate the memory of Confucius, that master teacher of the right order of society and the art of being a gentleman. Even as I struggled to manage my never ending worries, I noticed how my children were living in the moment. They were offering incense; they were trying to play with other boys; they were staring at the pond in the middle of the courtyard. There is a lot we can learn from our children.

As we traveled for four hours the next day to Halong Bay, I expected to be disappointed as the sun hardly made its presence felt. The skies were cloudy and the breeze remained cold. As we first glimpsed the sea and saw limestone karst in the distance, most of them were shrouded in mist. My wife's mood did not help. She was grumpy because of the long ride and was afraid we could not take great pictures. But as boarded the Emeraude, a luxury boat that was a reproduction of a 19th century paddle steamer, our moods began to change. The boat was beautiful. The sheets were luxuriously soft, the fixtures were all brass, the flooring was hardwood. It was a journey to the past and how could I, a history buff, resist the romance!

As we ate a sumptuous lunch, we saw the beautiful islands rushing past the big windows. We walked around the decks and we finally saw how majestic the bay was - three thousand beautiful limestone formations dotting a calm sea and, because of the cold, surrounded by mysterious mist. Now it was hard to believe this was not formed by a mythical dragon who dropped pearls and jade to stop the invading Chinese! No geological explanation would do justice to the astounding beauty of the place. Now, we were really having a vacation.

After cruising for about two hours, we rode a boat to explore the Surprise Cave. After climbing more than two hundred steps, we were greeted by another amazing vista. Inside, we saw several huge grottoes. The path was paved and well illuminated so it was an easy, if contrived, walk.

We opted not to go Titov Island anymore. We just enjoyed each other's company on the deck of the boat, watched a cooking demo in the early evening, and had another great dinner with plenty of fresh seafood including sweet, succulent prawns. After a couple of beers, I fell asleep and spent the night dreaming in the middle of Halong Bay.

We reluctantly said goodbye to the Emeraude the next day. It was all too short. I hope we can come back.

We spent the last two days in Hanoi shopping. We bought a big lacquer painting of a Vietnamese lady wearing a conical hat and a large opium pipe made of gemstone and brass.

On our very last day, we went in the morning to the Army Museum. The boys and I had a lot of fun looking at actual warplanes and tanks. The wreckage of various American and French airplanes was arranged into a tower resembling a bouquet of flowers, an homage to the fierce resistance of the Vietnamese and a monument to the folly of American intervention.

In the afternoon, we trooped to the Thang Long water puppet theater, a venerable Vietnamese traditional art. We saw a panorama of the history and peoples of Vietnam portrayed by dancing puppets in a pool of water to the tune of traditional Vietnamese music. I saw the richness of Vietnamese culture while I also felt the universality of human values and aspirations.

In the evening, just before we left for the airport, we had a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant and had an engaging conversation with the Vietnamese waiter. We were thankful for a week together as a family seeing new sights, learning new things, widening our horizons. There is nothing like traveling, especially with the people you love, to truly make you feel alive. We thanked the gods for being fortunate enough to be able to travel to Vietnam. For a brief moment, it was a land tormented by colonialism and ideology, but for much of its history it was the magical land of fierce patriots resisting invaders, of hardworking farmers making the land around the Red River overflow with prosperity, of giant tortoises and white horses and mythical dragons. It is morning in Vietnam and I was happy to see a kindred people rising to seize the day.

Beautiful Budapest

Budpaest was breathtakingly beautiful. As soon as I checked in the hotel, I started walking all over the city and I did not stop until it was time to go home two weeks later. Almost everywhere I went, I kept on exclaiming how beautiful and picture perfect it was.

Seeing Budapest was a life changing moment for me. It was my first time in Europe and it was even better than what I imagined it to be. There was music, art, culture and history everywhere I looked. There was refinement and thoughtfulness everywhere, from the grand architecture to the pedestrian friendly streets to the well organized public transport system.

It was a veritable paradise for someone like me who has been reading about but have never really seen the treasures of Western art. There were grand buildings everywhere. The Parliament must count as one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. Spanning the Danube were several bridges of striking beauty including the famous Chain Bridge. Then across the Danube, sitting on top of Buda Hill was the majestic Buda Castle, testament to the imperial power of the Habsburgs.

I felt so alive as all my senses were stimulated. I began to realize this was the joy of traveling. It was the joy living anew, of seeing new things, hearing new things and tasting new things. Or of seeing what one has only read or dreamed about.

I welcomed new experiences throughout my stay. I did not want to waste my time on sleep so I hardly slept. After walking for six hours the Sunday I arrived, I walked every afternoon thereafter and even ran in the morning to see more of the city. I became very familiar with the streets and the squares that my colleagues began calling me a local.

I could not believe there were concerts happening almost everyday: from the pop music festival at Sziget to the classical music concerts in churches everywhere. I indulged myself in a symphony orchestra performance at the Danube Palace and then an organ music concert at the Szent Istvan Basilica. The orchestra performance was playful and showcased a unique Hungarian sound. The organ concert was sublime. Hearing the Toccata e Fugue played live through a church organ was a spine tingling experience.

My taste buds did not want stimulation either. I kept ordering Hungarian food until I got fed up with paprika and sausage. In the process, I discovered how good Hungarian wine was especially their famous Egri Bikaver or bull's blood. I ate a sinful amount of goose liver because it was relatively cheap compared to Manila. I tasted wild boar, duck breast, goose leg, lecso, langos, and, of course, goulash.

I bought a couple of books in Budapest, Nobelist Imre Kertesz' Fatelesness and a History of Hungary by Laszlo Kontler. I read Kertesz' work as I was riding the train for some sightseeing in Vienna. I could vividly imagine the Jews in Budapest as they were herded for slaughter during the Holocaust. Life was normal yet it was horribly wrong.

Back in Manila, I read the five hundred pages of Hungarian history. It was a little dry but Hungary's history was so colorful it was still a satisfying read. Somehow, I felt I once lived in Budapest. I felt I was there during the events of 1848. Perhaps I was.

I cannot wait to go back.