Monsoon (6 page)

W
ITHIN A WEEK
A
NNA
knew her way around the centre of Hanoi and had her favourite coffee bar, noodle shop and pho maker where she and Sandy stopped after their morning walk around the lake. Sandy had taken Anna to the lake at six on her second morning in Hanoi and she'd so enjoyed the scene that Sandy decided they should walk there every morning. Their evenings were taken up with eating out and meeting friends from HOPE, and, it seemed to Anna, there was always a friend of a friend from home passing through.

Sometimes they met for drinks in the plush modern surrounds of five-star American-style hotels where some friends stayed. Other times they met at the more modest hotels, many of which clung to their French heritage with small metal-grille lifts, tiny balconies and dining rooms presided over by maître ds who called everyone madame or monsieur. Or else they hung out at trendy bars frequented by foreigners and the business elite.

Anna, not a sophisticated foodie, as Kevin's mother had raised her on plain Australian fare, found the cuisine on offer a continuous gourmet safari. With Sandy now on her break the girls indulged in occasional long lunches trying French or Italian food as well as local dishes. Anna watched men and women cook at stalls, over a brazier on the street, in markets, in large noisy outdoor restaurants, in tiny food shops. Sometimes she and Sandy cooked for themselves at the table in small cha ca restaurants, dipping vegetables and fish pieces in the bubbling spicy broth.

‘I think I'd like to learn to cook properly,' Anna confided in Sandy.

‘Perfect place to do it! There are cooking schools and courses proliferating like mushrooms,' said Sandy.

Anna spread her arms. ‘So many interesting people everywhere you look . . . doing things, starting businesses. No wonder the Vietnamese are so successful everywhere they go.'

Sandy smothered a smile. ‘Yep, industrious and entrepreneurial right down to a woman sewing, cooking or selling produce off the pole on her back, or a cyclo driver dreaming of one day owning a taxi. And with the government loosening restrictions on free enterprise, big business is booming too.'

After browsing through a street full of silk shops and tailors Anna sighed. ‘It's too confusing. All those fashion magazines and assistants trying to push me into this or that design. Or else they expect me to wear the ao-dai and when I don't understand what they're saying they give me pencil and paper to draw an outfit like I'm an illiterate kid.'

Sandy laughed. ‘Tailoring shops are pretty competitive. Wait till we go to Hoi An, it's probably cheaper down there.'

Sandy was working on an itinerary to show Anna more of the country and decided the first trip out of Hanoi should be to one of the great natural wonders of the world – Halong Bay.

‘So what's there?' asked Anna as they threw their small bags into Kim's old car.

‘Did you ever see the film
Indochine
with Catherine Deneuve? That was before tourism hit the area,' said Sandy. And when Anna shook her head Sandy smiled. ‘Try to imagine fifteen hundred square kilometres of jewelled waters with over two thousand limestone islands soaring out of the sea.' She was still surprised how little Anna knew about Vietnam or the fact that she hadn't bothered to do any homework on the country before jumping on a plane to visit.

Kim had offered to drive them on the three-hour trip to Halong Bay. He thought he would then go hiking in the Cat Ba National Park while the girls spent the weekend on Halong Bay. They'd all drive back together after he'd visited a fish farm project in the port of Hai Phong.

Just outside Hanoi the car slowed as it threaded through the crowded street leading into Bat Trung, where two adjacent villages formed the commune famous for its ceramic production.

‘What's that smell? And look at the pollution,' commented Anna from the front seat.

‘It's from the coal-burning kilns,' said Kim. ‘They're replacing them with gas-burning ones now, but it's not a clean place yet.' He pointed to a pile of coal pats drying along a wall. ‘That'll soon be a thing of the past.'

‘Look at the dirty buildings from years of coal fires,' said Sandy.

Anna studied the blackened bricks, the sooty roofs and the darkened wood of shops displaying all manner of ceramics from incense burners to bowls and vases, while others looked like they held more antique treasures. ‘Those places look interesting.'

‘This Red River delta area has been famous for its ceramics since the fifteenth century. It's the kaolin clay that came from the local provinces,' said Kim. ‘See, there's the river.'

‘Wow, can I take a photo?' exclaimed Anna.

They left the car and picked their way through the traffic as workers busily loaded wide wooden sampans with piles of cream-and-blue ceramic pots. The boats, already low in the water, had their roofs strengthened with wood and timber to take the weight of the pottery.

‘We're only thirteen kilometres from Hanoi so the pottery is sent downriver to the exporters. Or people carry it on bicycles to shops in Hanoi. Some of those ceramic pots could well end up in garden nurseries in Sydney,' commented Sandy.

After Anna had taken photos of the broad stretch of the Red River bustling with activity, Sandy led her down an alley to a small factory. Through a side door they entered a workshop where several potters were kneading the grey-white clay while two girls were delicately painting flower designs on large vases ready for glazing and firing in the large coal-fired brick kiln.

Sandy greeted the head potter who pointed to the rear of the workshop. Anna followed Sandy to a small studio where an elderly man with a shock of white hair and strands of hair on his chin that hung in a wispy beard waved a hand and rose to greet her.

‘This is Master Potter Thinh. He's very famous in the village,' Sandy told Anna. ‘He was one of the first people here to start reproducing the antique glazes.'

Mr Thinh gave a slight bow and greeted Anna in Vietnamese.

She smiled, saying, ‘Thua Bac,' the greeting of respect that Sandy had taught her.

Mr Thinh led them both on a tour, proudly showing off shelves stacked with figurines, vases and bowls waiting to be fired. He pointed at details, from the traditional dragonfly and taro plant decoration to the graceful curve of the lip of a vase.

‘These are made by Mr Thinh's students. He is a great teacher who uses the traditional methods. We've also helped him start classes for women in the rural parts of the province to make pottery at a co-operative. Handicrafts are proving to be a great income for women, and a popular export,' explained Sandy.

Anna was entranced with a vase decorated with water lilies. The glaze was cracked and tinged brown, giving it an old patina. ‘This looks very old.'

‘Mr Thinh worked out how to imitate the old glazes. Years ago this sort of work was sold as genuine,' said Sandy. ‘And even now there probably still are unscrupulous dealers passing them off as real antiques in Hanoi and Saigon.'

As Anna carefully replaced the vase on the shelf, Sandy noticed a large plate that certainly looked old, even down to the chip on the edge. It was painted in blues and greens with two fighting cocks in its centre. She studied it for a moment then picked it up and turned it over.

‘Is this one of yours, Mr Thinh?' asked Sandy.

The wizened old man gave an impish smile and shook his head.

‘Your very best student?' asked Sandy.

‘Ask him if it's for sale,' said Anna.

Again the old man shook his head and gave Sandy a rapid explanation. Sandy's eyes widened.

‘He says it's genuine. Really old. A lot of plates like this were sent from Vietnam to China in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. He said he has learned a lot by studying it.'

‘Where did he get it?' wondered Anna.

‘I'll try to ask diplomatically.'

Sandy and Mr Thinh chatted some more and then Sandy thanked him and said goodbye, echoed by Anna.

‘So what did he say?' asked Anna.

‘He says old pieces turn up in this area occasionally. Farmers dig them up in a field, but that one came from the sea.'

‘As in a shipwreck?' asked Anna. ‘Or dropped overboard in the river perhaps?'

‘Could be. He said a young boy sold it to him. He wouldn't give Mr Thinh any details. Mr Thinh has adapted the pattern for other pieces.'

In the street they spotted Kim outside a shop and he led them back to the car.

‘It won't take too long to get to Halong Bay,' said Kim. ‘We have to meet the people who run the boat trip. And I have a date with an old friend in Halong City before I go over to Cat Ba Island for the weekend, while you're on the boat.'

Anna marvelled at the procession of rice paddies, lushly wet green, red mud bank arteries dividing paddies and directing life-sustaining water to the rippling green rice shoots. Some were tended by the lone figure of a farmer with oxen and plough, or by women bent over, occasionally a baby tied to their back. Others were empty save for a tiered stone family mausoleum in the centre, a monument where ancestors stayed close to their family.

They passed townships, villages, thatched huts hidden among palms, and waterways on which men and women in conical hats poled narrow open boats, fish farms, houses on stilts in marshy reaches and small temples. Everywhere families were on the move – by motorbike and scooter, bicycle and on foot.

Anna was disappointed to find Halong City a resort town of ugly high-rise apartments, hotels, holiday accommodation and casinos.

Sandy decided against visiting the resort of Cat Ba town next to Halong City, preferring the natural beauty of the bay. ‘Once we're on the boat we'll leave all this commercialisation behind,' she promised Anna.

‘You two should come hiking with me,' said Kim. ‘Cat Ba National Park is fantastic – there's amazing wildlife, interesting caves like the one used as a secret hospital during the war, and very challenging hikes or walks.'

‘We're thinking something more cruisey, thanks,' said Sandy, knowing Kim's penchant for difficult hikes. He dropped them near a long jetty stretching into the bay. ‘We'll meet you on Sunday afternoon. Thanks for the ride,' she said.

‘Are we on that?' Anna pointed to the replica paddle steamer at the wharf. It was over fifty metres long, its three decks filled with international tourists and the French crew in crisp white uniforms. The paddle, just for show, was behind a swimming deck.

‘No way. We're on the
Harvest Moon
. Captain Chinh's old junk that he's had renovated,' said Sandy. ‘There are a lot of new junks being made just for tourist trips, but I like to go authentic where possible.'

‘I hope that means a loo,' said Anna.

‘There he is, the yellow and red sails.' Sandy pointed to a wooden junk with red sails and a yellow moon design on them that was manoeuvring its way to the jetty as the tourist-packed paddle steamer motored away.

They boarded on a wobbly plank laid from the jetty steps to the deck of the junk. A smiling young man swung their bags on board.

‘Meet Hung, new crew man. Good sailor,' beamed Captain Chinh, giving Sandy a welcoming wave.

‘Anyone else coming along?' asked Sandy, and Anna looked around, wondering where'd they'd fit anyone else given the space. But once she followed Hung below deck she was surprised at the space in the broad-beamed old vessel. Sandy and Anna shared a little cabin with two single berths and a good-sized porthole above. A shelf and a small dresser with deep drawers and a large carved storage box that smelled of sandalwood was big enough for their belongings. Off the room was a tiny compact ensuite with a toilet, basin and handheld shower.

‘Cute and comfy,' observed Anna.

‘We're lucky: there's only one other person on board, an older Aussie fellow,' said Sandy.

‘Do local people come on these trips?' asked Anna. So far at the jetty she'd only seen foreign tourists. ‘Is there a local wealthy upper class taking to the water?'

‘You bet. We'll probably spot some of the luxury boats that look like they've just left Monaco or the Riviera. Let's go and sit on deck as we head out. You haven't really seen what it's all about.'

Hung settled them in sling-back deck chairs in the wide bow and handed them a glass of soft drink and woven conical stiffened cane hats with bright nylon ribbons attached to the inside.

‘Very practical and won't blow off,' said Sandy.

Anna was surprised at how light the hat was as she tied the ribbons under her chin.

Hung put a tray of crisps, tasty dried nuts and seeds, and some fresh fruit beside them and showed them where the icebox was, filled with cold drinks.

Captain Chinh, wiry with sun-crinkled skin, wearing voluminous shorts, a T-shirt and the ever-present conical hat, was in the stern guiding the
Harvest Moon
out into the bay when the other passenger came out and went to talk to the skipper and take some photographs. He was in a short-sleeved batik shirt and a battered cotton hat that reminded Anna of her dad's old fishing hat.

Anna gazed at the striking scenery about her. She'd seen the ragged grey outlines of granite and limestone against the skyline, but as they left the horseshoe curve of the shoreline she realised they were sailing into a strange world of startlingly different geography. The sea was emerald and from its smooth surface exploded thousands of bare peaks eroded by sea and wind into craggy sculptures. Others rose out of the sea dripping dark green vegetation like a mantle over one shoulder. Another cluster looked like the gnarled fingers of a giant's hand, the palm cupped below the surface.

‘It's said a monstrous dragon ran to the sea from the mountains and his tail gouged out the landscape, which filled with water. Supposedly there are periodic sightings of the mythical marine monster – the tarasque,' said Sandy.