Decidedly Dilly Divas and other Dramas

Confucius said, “A short man who dances with a tall woman gets a busted mouth.” That is indeed a pearl of wisdom! As we were privy to local lore, we were treated to Ha Noi's strange customs.  So instead of watching the famous Water Puppets, we went in pursuit of Fre Astair and Ginga Roger (in keeping with local pronunciation, I’ll chop the last letters off too).

In a park on the other side of the road from Ho Chi Minh’s humble abode and Mausoleum, there is a lake and a park with a large concrete area, where citizens gather and dance to the beat of tinny music. Yes, they dance under the stars. The weather calls for it, such perfect balmy nights.  

It’s a family gathering of sorts, everyone is welcome, and you go with the flow of your partner and the music.   What’s so nice about it is that one can be single to enjoy this social interaction. Everyone’s there to enjoy the night and the music.

There are chairs to sit on for the wallflowers like me (I’m tone deaf, so no amount of coaxing will get me to Rumba, Samba, or Tango).   We sat there mesmerised, just enjoyed the moment, and sometimes even tapped a foot and gave a little sway.   It brought back memories of house parties and country weddings where children run around, twirl, and play ring-a-ring-a-Rosie or dance with their dads.   A group of girls did the Macarena.

I thought it best not to burst their bubble; you see, I’m the reigning Queen of the Macarena in Otjiwarongo, Namibia. My crown might be a tad tarnished, but I have a C.D to prove it. Not Mari-cha-cha for nothing. We wandered off and strolled around the lake where girls and boys were getting to know each other better, fishermen were trying their luck in the murky waters, and parents were buying their children balloons and eating ice creams.  

We had a delicious iced coffee, waited until the monsoon rain passed, and then happily drifted off to our hotel. Unlike Parisians, Vietnamese do not have any public displays of affection. That would be most improper and would certainly be frowned upon.

The Sofitel Legend Metropole Hotel must be Hanoi’s most prestigious and probably oldest hotel and landmark; we were headed that way to rest and have a pre-luncheon drink when we spotted the second “tradition” in Vietnam.   Brides.

Everywhere you looked, they were dressed up all frothy and looking like Pavlova’s in their white wedding dresses. The story goes that having wedding photographs taken before the wedding is important.  

The bride will not only have one outfit but often a few. A huge entourage accompanies her, and a proper “shoot” with all the bells and whistles will follow, including hairdressers, make-up artists, a dresser, family, friends, the photographer, and his assistants. Photographs will be taken throughout the city, and, of course, the Metropole Hotel is a favourite location. There must’ve been 5 brides posing when we arrived.  

In a side street, sitting in her froth, legs akimbo on a hat case, was another bride awaiting her turn to pose!   Brides would even change dresses right there for the world to see, without any embarrassment or discomfort! That’s show business, I suppose.

This didn’t just happen in Hanoi but all over Vietnam. I loved it. I did wonder whether all the brides were “genuine” though. Some looked a little dodgy, especially the two girls, both dressed to the nines, taking selfies before our departure on the Russian train in Dalat, another very popular shoot destination. While we waited for our train to pull out of the station, at least 5 brides were being photographed.

I thought this was a very good idea, nonetheless. I wish I’d done something like that. You see my nerves were shot on the day of my wedding, my future in-laws were furious as my mother had cancelled the “cousin who’d driven up from P.E to sing in the Church”, the light of my life had not spoken to me for a week and threatened to call the whole thing off because of said cousin, my dress was a disaster, and my hair a shocker!

I’m sure my photographs would’ve been far better while the flush of love and excitement was still visible. I could also have hired several dresses, had the whole retinue of stylists and helpful friends instead of a bunch of family who were already divided, sulking, and silent. If their lips were tyres, they’d have been at the 2 Barr mark.

There are two golden hours in a day, one in the evening and the other at daybreak, and that’s when serious photographers set off to shoot, so we would drag ourselves out of bed at the crack of dawn on most mornings, not to let the side down, of course, and rush off to take some fantastic photographs.

On this particular morning, we sallied forth to Hoan Kiem Lake, the heart of the city and its people, and to the Huc, or Sunbeam, bridge, a famous landmark.   I experienced a jaw-dropping moment, everybody was there! Of course, I mused, this is the best time of the day: older people don’t sleep late, the temperature is perfect, and the streets are quiet, with only the occasional motorbike or taxi.

The perimeter pathway and open spaces around the lake are abuzz with activity; people are walking, jogging, doing morning prayers, and practicing Tai Chi. A group of ladies was fencing and dancing, and some energetic men were even weightlifting.  

People were doing stretching exercises, and hopefuls were casting bread onto the waters for a fish.  A fresh produce market sprang up, but within half an hour, the street was clear as if it had never happened. I doubled back to make sure I'd not missed it.   Farmers were selling fruits, vegetables, and herbs fresh from the soil, doing brisk trade too.

They say one must never knock something unless you've tried it. I didn't try this morning ritual, but I must confess it looked great. In one courtyard, you could do ballroom dancing, laughter exercises, aerobics, or play soccer; tinny music blared from huge megaphones (in days gone by used to spread propaganda and news) or from ancient ghetto blasters.   I must assume this is a relic of a bygone age that is still followed avidly.

We stayed until we'd exhausted ourselves, watched the sun rise over the lake, a perfectly round red wheel in the sky.  Magic.   We strolled among Ha Noians until we reached the nearest restaurant, where we had a stunning view and a hearty French-inspired breakfast and coffee.