I’ve been fascinated by, and drawn to Vietnam virtually my entire life. The Vietnam War occupied my childhood, and when I turned 18 in 1973, I had to register with Selective Service (what an Orwellian name – they were anything but selective in choosing cannon fodder for McNamara and the psychos running the War) and got a draft number for that insane undertaking. That the country had lost its appetite for War and its almost unbearable cost in young lives and treasure meant that the draft had pretty much wound down by then, as luck would have it, but some of my brother Mike’s friends and older guys in Manhasset who we all knew went off to fight in Vietnam and never came home. Those who did were never the same, coming back to a country that viewed them as losers and killers in a hugely unpopular war that they had no say in waging. They were blamed for the strategic and unspeakable blunders of our political leaders, and no one held parades to honor them on their return. It was tragedy writ large, from beginning to end, with countless numbers of victims in our country and countless more throughout Vietnam, a country as peaceful as any before the war and as devastated as some in Europe after World War II.

I’ve felt real guilt here because of what my country did to Vietnam and its people, and visiting for the first time has been both amazing and sobering. The debt owed to this country by ours is incalculable and can almost certainly never be repaid.

I’ve followed Vietnam’s history closely since the Paris Peace Accords were signed and the last US troops flew home. The country struggled mightily to rebuild and find its way for decades after the war, and although it is still a communist country, capitalism has exploded here, and the Vietnamese people were ready to run with everything it offers and then some. The country is booming now as a low cost goods supplier, tourism destination and in a number of service industries in which it excels.

The legacy of French colonialism weighs heavily on the country. Much of its architecture, language and traditions were artificially grafted into the country by force by the French. Having said that, the architectural legacy of the French in Hanoi is quite stunning. A vast swath of the city appears as though it was lifted from a European capital, with classical buildings, wide boulevards and magnificent structures all around. Some of that glory is captured below.

The Presidential Palace (formerly the French Colonial Administrator’s pied a terre):

Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum – visiting here completely floored me. The space upon which it sits, in Ba Dinh Square,  is absolutely enormous, occupying approximately a square mile of ground in the middle of Hanoi. This was the location chosen for the construction of Ho Chi Minh’s tomb because it was from this exact spot that he declared independence from France on September 2nd, 1945.

It took passing numerous security gates, metal detectors, surrendering my photographic equipment, being stared down by countless armed soldiers and a wait that spanned a half mile, which fortunately moved apace, to see Ho Chi Minh’s body lying in state. Once inside the tomb, a hushed silence and sense of awe overcame everyone. We walked slowly up a long shallow flight of stairs, turned right, right and then right again and into the room in which he lay, walking around his body in a large U, able to see him from both sides and his feet. I couldn’t take my eyes off him – it was completely riveting for me – and I immediately wanted to go back again because it was such a powerful experience.

Ho Chi Minh is God to the Vietnamese people, and his mausoleum and everything surrounding it demonstrates the reverence and esteem with and by which he is held by all in his country.  September 2nd is, by divine coincidence, both Vietnam’s Independence Day and the day that Ho Chi Minh died, and the Vietnamese say that in the morning of every September 2nd the sun shines, and in the afternoon it rains. How profound.

Pagoda on Hanoi’s West Lake

I didn’t take this shot (wish I had), but it cracked me up. She was no doubt a knock out…

I departed Hanoi for Da Nang on the central coast, where the first US combat troops landed in the Vietnam War. What a claim to fame….  Da Nang is serene and calm where Hanoi is chaotic and frantic. It exuded chill in its traffic, wide streets and innumerable restaurants and shops. It is said that in nowhere else in Vietnam is the pace of change as rapid as in Da Nang, and its modernity and ocean front towers speak to how it is reinventing itself and moving into the next century. Let’s hope it’s for the best.

Morning coffee view

Looking north

From Da Nang I moved south about fifteen miles to Hoi An. Hoi An, a Unesco World Heritage site, is impossibly beautiful. The town is bisected by the Bon River, and both sides’ architecture and buildings are incredibly well-preserved French colonial. To say that Hoi An is charming would be the understatement of the decade. It IS charm. Its people are really friendly and really interested in selling you stuff. They’re cool once they realize you’re not buying, but they are somewhat relentless while always polite.

Long wooden boats ply the river, gliding slowly past as you take in the sites.

A mother-daughter team in their shop

Cat napping is really big here and everywhere else I’ve been. People grab shuteye wherever they are, whenever they can. It makes for fun shots.

Chickens and eggs for sale

Totally gay, I know (I don’t mean that in a sexual way, of course), but let’s just say I was bamboozled into this one. Long story….

Well, I guess it had to happen eventually. First rain of the trip today. Ridiculously great weather so far. Just on and off drizzle in Hoi An, but the streak has officially been broken at 33 days. C’est la vie….

More in Hoi An tomorrow. Excited to bike around town and to the beach.