Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum is not on my top ten list of things to see. Something about seeing a man who has been dead a year longer than I have been alive, yet in a better state of preservation than I am. depresses me. Thank goodness it was Friday, as the mausoleum itself is closed on Monday and Friday so he can get his beauty rest.
Unbeknownst to me, that does not stop the tourists, so here we are touring.
The grounds, known as Ba Dinh Square, also house the Ho Chi Minh museum, including Uncle Ho’s gardens, his working home, and the home he lived in.
When entering the area, our tour guide told us we could not take cameras, but we could take our phones. But our phones must stay in our packs, and not be out, but we could take loads of pictures.
The security said I could bring my big camera, but I could not bring my 360 camera. By the time I ran back and forth retrieving and returning things to the bus, the tour had moved on. Lucky it was stopped at the security scanners. Thank goodness. I did not want to spend the night in mausoleum jail because that is creepy and I would jealous of my cell mate’s preservation.
I was able to glean a few bits of information from the 10 minute TED talk the guide was giving when we made it past security.
The colors of Vietnam are everywhere. If it is not red, it is yellow, or for contrast green. Not unlike the United States where red, white and blue reign supreme, except every person here knows what the colors symbolize.
Wikipedia will tell you this about the Vietnamese flag: “the red background symbolizes revolution and bloodshed. The golden star symbolizes the soul of the nation and the five points of the star represents the five main classes in Vietnamese society—intellectuals, farmers, workers, entrepreneurs, and soldiers. A large yellow five-pointed star centered on a red field.
All true I am sure, but the guide, and others are not as poetic. Locals say red represents prosperity, happiness and strength. The yellow represents wealth and abundance.
The guide today and the one yesterday also indicated specifically yellow was not simply the color of wealth, it was the color of royalty. Almost like the private color of the Emperors to be respected and admired by the people. Which is apparently why all the government buildings are yellow. When the French were here, they used the color, painting their buildings yellow to assert their authority over the people, and apparently it worked. No idea if that story is true, but it follows with what you see around Vietnam.
If the royal color thing is true, the Pikachu should have money laid at their feet instead of needing to chase motorists down for bribes. Or they need a different uniform.
Ho Chi Minh never married; he never had kids; and he thought of the people as his family. The people embraced his thoughts and refer to him as “Uncle Ho.”
Given all the titles and grand proclamations of todays world leaders, none that I am aware of have the respect nor relationship with their people to be given a sincere familial title by the people they lead. Love him or hate him, the people of Vietnam love their leader as they love their family.
Of course, I am not up on current world affairs, and we may be addressing President Trump as “Uncle Donny,” but I have been out of the country since the inauguration and am not up on the new trends.
While the casket was closed and the museum inside was closed, we did see the gardens when we finally moved past the closed off street which most of the public sees.
In the gardens is the working house, which is yellow and large. I was unable to understand the origins of the architecture, but it looked colonial of some kind.
We were told Uncle Ho conducted as much of his business outside in the gardens, because he loved his gardens. Again, the working house was closed.
We meandered by a building which displayed A kitchen from the 1950’s. Another section showed us Uncle Ho’s car collection. And yet another showed us an office, which was apparently his, but it was in the kitchen building where the staff operated so placement did not make sense.
I was impressed by the home of Uncle Ho. It was modest, natural, and I could see living there, if not having it as a retreat or summer place. The lower level is open and a living room or meeting area. The second level has a bedroom and a study.
It helps with the overall calm presence of this structure that the kitchen, servants, cars and such were all located somewhere else. If this were a normal persons home, they would starve.
The other intriguing building was the bomb shelter located right next to Uncle Ho’s house. Upon first inspection, one might think it is an extra outdoor living room. Glass walls, with one side built next to a hill. It fit with the landscape and area visually until you are told it is a bomb shelter, and then it becomes a head scratcher.
Camouflaged under green Astroturf, and surrounded by hanging plants and such would conceal it from the air. The thick concrete roof would provide some protection, and I suppose dropping the green shades could give another level concealment, but the rest is shrapnel to be blunt.
Until you figure out the guide focusing on the word rug for several minutes indicated the real shelter was in the basement, under the rug. I assume under the concrete slab surrounded by what appear to be drainage gutters. Again, we could not go in.
The rest of the tour I focused on the garden. I asked why the bottom of the trees were painted white, assuming it is a type of insect protection, but our guide did not know. He did know that all the little bumps around trees are roots which grow upward instead of downward.
There was also a temple on the grounds, and then vendors selling souvenirs and drinks. I looked for the mini glass casket paperweight, but apparently they thought that would be tacky.
I will also note the ‘security’ who were everywhere, were very casual. I took a picture with one because he was laughing and taking pictures with a bunch of kids, so I thought it was a thing. I know this was not in the mausoleum, but I would place this site in reverence for the country along the lines of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers in America. It was odd to see so many military standing in groups of 2 or 3, having a smoke, shooting the breeze.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated the non aggressive, laid back stance, but it was in sharp contrast to the propaganda machine on display, or at least the one I expected to see from everything I knew.
Again, that is the point. Do not believe everything you read, especially if I wrote it.
I had a lot of information about Vietnam before I came here. Some of it is shoring up with reality because there are facts out there I am basing my picture on. My picture, dictated to me by teachers, elders, friends; not from experience.
There is no question there was a war between America and Vietnam. There is no question our nations did not agree about things at one point in the past. I am not smart enough to know if as nations or economic ideology, or any ideological boundary we throw into the air to make ourselves different if our cultures as a whole will ever be able to meet on level ground.
But. I am sure, in this moment I am here. I am experiencing first hand how other human beings relate to their world. I don’t appreciate all of it, and as you might have guessed I would prefer to be in my comfy chair.
But. I can speak now from a position of personal experience instead of propaganda. At the end of the day, when our soul and mind reflect on where we sit at the table of humanity, absent the cultural whip of our master country; we are all just moving through our days, working through our issues and trying to be human.
And that made coming to see a dead guy in a glass box, even though I did not see him, worth it.
I wonder what skin cream they use. I need a jar of that.
