Our party of five had all been to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) before, but it was our first time to set foot in north and central Vietnam.

The weather was wintry at 10-13 degrees on our first day in Hanoi. We quickly warmed up by walking the streets of the charming Old Quarter. We couldn’t get enough of the quaint vertical houses with shutters and balconies that blended French and Vietnamese architecture, as well as the abundance of multi-colored lanterns. Flowering peach trees and small mandarin orange trees dotted lobbies and streets or hung astride rushing motorcycles. The Vietnamese were preparing for the Tet, Lunar New Year.

While waiting to check in to our hotel, we had brunch at the Hanoi Corner restaurant on a tip from Trip Advisor and were pleasantly surprised by both the food and service. Postprandial coffee was a must given Vietnam’s ca phe’s rank as second in a list of the world’s 10 best coffees. At Vi Anh Coffee Place, we tried the egg coffee, crème brûlée atop the java; very good but a bit too rich for seniors. The iced salted coffee was deliciously creamy, and the coconut coffee laced with gata and toasted coconut morsels on the side was exceptional. Now why hadn’t our own entrepreneurs thought of that long ago given the abundance of coconut trees in Bikol? That could just easily have been Kape Bikol!

Freshened up, we strolled down to the picturesque Hoan Kiem Lake, mercifully closed to vehicles on Sundays for the convenience of pedestrians. Young women in their graceful ao dai, carrying flowers or nón lá, their version of the salakot, seemed to be everywhere, posing for selfies. At another area beside the lake, older women also in national costume, rehearsed for a dance presentation. Spring flowers, the type one sees in Baguio and Tagaytay, elicited sighs from us plantitas; alas, we knew they could not grow in our warmer climes.

Then dinner at Hien Beer Street, with Hanoi beer for our tomadors.

What we could have had enough of was the chaos of motorcycle traffic. It wasn’t as bad as in Saigon where we were advised to cross without stopping as the motorcycles would give way. But we were not prepared for vehicles ignoring the green light for pedestrians. Nor for motorcycles passing a hair’s breadth away from customers sipping coffee on tiny chairs and tables on the sidewalks. Interestingly enough, when a motorcycle accidentally nudged a woman at a sidewalk café, she rubbed her arm, looked at the driver, and continued to work. No altercation, not even a raised voice. T-shirt designs poked fun at the Vietnam traffic light system and the chaos, but it was not at all funny for us Pinoys. We have better traffic rules at least.

Like Coron. We did the Hà Long Bay cruise on our second day. It was a pleasant leisurely experience, though the highlights for us were the view of the “kissing chickens” rock and a chat with a fellow from Scotland. Senior knees couldn’t take the trek up the mountainside or the cave with stalactites, so we sat by the beach, checked out the wares, and marveled at the sight of three young Caucasians plunging into the icy water. Our younger companions said the views on this cruise were very much like those in El Nido and Coron, except that the Vietnamese cruise was much more organized. No surprise there.

Manila traffic in Hanoi. We took the Hop-on Hop-off bus on our next day in Hanoi. Our first stop was the obligatory visit to Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum: No bags, no water, no cameras. Walk two-by-two, no noise, but we heard chatter from the bevy of schoolchildren in line before us. We walked at a solemn clip into Uncle Ho’s resting place, and the hubby saluted the revolutionary leader. Then a more leisurely walk to other places in the area, the best of which was Ho’s house on stilts. It was simple, even austere, but nestled in flower gardens, it was perfect as a writer’s residence. Ho Chi Minh was also a poet after all.

Then off to the citadel which was unfortunately closed on Tuesdays, the Temple of Literature, and the Maison Centrale or Hỏa Lò Prison where we learned much about the Vietnamese resistance to invaders.

The two-decker sightseeing bus was supposed to loop every 30 minutes, but we had to wait at least an hour each at two stops. How inefficient, we grumbled, until we saw a fleet of black cars with the Philippine and Vietnamese flags on the windshields! Ah, kaya pala, we joked; a state visitor had brought MetroManila traffic, the worst in the world, to Hanoi. The guy can’t deny this after soc med revealed his taking a helicopter to watch a concert in the city. And aba, aba, back home, his car with all those red flags would have been stopped and he would be red-tagged or worse.

The Red Flags of Our Youth. Speaking of red, the hubby was most awed by all the red flags on the streets, billboards, restaurants, and buildings, and asked that his photo be taken at this and that corner. I figured it was nostalgia for the fire of youth. At age 17, he was a student activist with the Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan in the 70s and has since been obsessed with red flags and yellow stars. Perhaps this was also a homage to Vietnam’s triumph where our youthful attempts at social revolution had failed. The rest of us were simply amazed at how Vietnam had won a socialist revolution but could now still enjoy the usual amenities and freedoms of capitalism and democracy.

Da Nang. Four days in Hanoi were scarcely enough, but we had booked a flight south to less chilly but still pleasantly cool Da Nang, a small and neat riverside city in central Vietnam. An impressive Golden Dragon bridge welcomed us. We walked along the flower-lined river banks and took a twilight river cruise. On board, we watched an apsara, a Khmer dance interpretation of traditional stories; were served fruit; and viewed the lights on the bridges and banks. On the weekend, we joined the crowds to watch the Golden Dragon spout fire and water.

Old woman, sky. The next day, we visited the old capital of Hue, 2.5 hours away from Da Nang, to see a tomb, a temple, and a citadel. The tomb has a story that would interest LGBTQIA+ friends, and the citadel is a must-see for those interested in cultural preservation.

I was most impressed by the Thien Mu pagoda, a serene Buddhist temple with lovely gardens overlooking the Perfume River. Perhaps it had something to do with Thien Mu translating to “old woman, sky.” That’s me, I thought, marveling at the gardens, the river, and the sky. A blue car exhibited on the grounds recounts the story of how a Buddhist monk drove himself to Saigon and immolated himself to protest the religious repression of the South Vietnamese government. We remembered that story from our childhood in 1963.

Hội An. The ancient town of Hội An with its yellow shophouses on alleys around a canal filled with tourist boats is a must-see for the Instagram generation. No structure is bereft of colorful lanterns. A ticket to this walking district, a 45-minute cab ride from Da Nang, allows entry into five buildings, including a world heritage bridge currently being restored. But my heart was full after watching Vietnamese traditional songs and dances in a small auditorium. Nainggit ako for the Philippines and Bikol. Why couldn’t we have more of such local cultural performances for ourselves and to attract our tourists?

Skipping Bana. While our companions did the Bana Hills tour, two of us opted to visit the Cham Museum of Sculpture, the Da Nang Museum of Fine Art, and the Han Market in the city center. I knew this acrophobe would not miss the hike and long cable rides, the bridge cradled in gigantic hands, nor the theme park. On the other hand, we would probably have loved the beautiful gardens and the buffet.

Food trip. Speaking of food, our tour gave us a new appreciation of Vietnamese fare: pho, spring rolls, and banh mi, a crisp baguette light and fluffy on the inside, filled with meat or fish and spices. Yes to spices and coriander! Almost every meal was a gourmet’s delight. Special mention must be made of KOTO Van Mieu, the Know One Teach One training restaurant in Hanoi that provides disadvantaged children skills in culinary arts. The other two are Banh Mi Long Hoi, a corner restaurant in Hanoi which seemed to have queues of (rather loud) Filipino tourists. Biet Phu Nao Nhi in Hue also had excellent fare. Even their pizza, the only Western food we decided to have one night, was great at the “Find your Peace” 4Ps café on the main road. I don’t know about the beer, but the orange juice, the guava juice, and the avocado shake were all fresh and delightful. The prices were quite affordable.

Reflections on nationhood. We received an education on Vietnam’s history from museum visits and our knowledgeable and passionate tourist guides. The Vietnamese count their history from earlier than 1010. They have had at least ten significant dynasties, four of them, major. Their coastal S-shaped landmass is contiguous, separated by mountains dividing north and south, necessitating the building of the longest tunnel in Southeast Asia, the Hải Vân Tunnel. The sea has also always been used as a means of livelihood, transportation, and defense. Their history of resistance dictated where the nation’s capital should be, from Hue to Saigon to Hanoi and back again. Feudal rule must have helped the Vietnamese develop a keen awareness of the injustice of social classes.

We were overwhelmed by the stories of how their people resisted waves upon waves of invaders, from the Chinese, Mongols, French, Indonesians, Japanese, and of course, the Americans. Mention of the American war reminded us of the horrendous stories of My Lai, Agent Orange, and the iconic photo on Life magazine’s cover of a little girl running away from a napalm attack. In the Hỏa Lò prison and the Imperial Citadel, we saw how the invaders had devastated Vietnam. I was glad that in college, we were among those who chanted “Give peace a chance” in support of the Vietnamese people.

I feel their Party was immensely flexible in dealing with changing contexts: they united their people, engaged in guerrilla warfare, forged peace pacts, established diplomatic relations with enemies, and resisted them again when needed. This flexibility was probably a factor in Vietnam’s being one of the oldest communist-led countries in the world, successful in preserving its national independence and territorial integrity.

Though they have various dialects, they have no great difficulty understanding one another. And such a gentle, musical language! The shows on TV are in Vietnamese or are subtitled in Vietnamese. They study English because it is needed in tourism and business, but education and everything else is in Vietnamese, none of that mother-tongue- based multilingual education to placate advocates of Filipino in the Philippines.

I also found the Vietnamese people we met to be gentle and courteous; very very far from the image of sinister slant-eyed shadowy ‘Congs’ in tall grasses and tunnels shown by Hollywood.

Vietnam has its problems for sure. The day after we left Hanoi for Da Nang, heavy fog and bad air pollution caused all flights to and from the international airport to be delayed or diverted to other cities. They reel from the same crisis the whole world is mired in today and will need to pay more attention to climate matters.

On the other hand, Vietnam’s economy is five steps ahead of ours, even after the devastation of the American war. The average minimum wage is about the same as ours but has greater purchasing power; their priority is food production so their people do not go hungry. The Vietnamese also have freedom of worship, religion is not the Marxist ‘opium of the masses.’ They have the freedom to express their views with the caveat, “Just don’t oppose the government.”

The inevitable comparison from this Pinoy gaze: their geography, long history, and culture gave them a sense of nationhood our archipelagic country has had only since Gomburza and Rizal. That’s only about 150 years as against the thousand years or so of Vietnam’s national history. And don’t forget, we’ve had only one or two dynasties so far, the hubby kidded. Going on three? God forbid.

Aray, aguy! On the red eye back home, we looked forward to giving our little pasalubongs to family and friends and hanging up our lanterns. The premature unbuckling of seatbelts greeted the on-time arrival of our CebuPac flight at NAIA. But wait, our parking berth had had an oil spill so a new parking area had to be found!

Then, “no aerial bridge, sorry,” so sleep-deprived arthritic seniors had to disembark on foot down narrow stairs, Aray! More walking at 3 am; two out of three walkalators were barred ‘for maintenance, sorry for the inconvenience.’ Aguy! Yes, we were home sweet home; it’s more fun in the Philippines.

There was some respite when we didn’t have to queue for immigration; DIY passport scanners were conveniently available for returning residents. A Grab ride was also easily booked, care of the young people with us.

Netflix and chill. Back in Bikol, we were still on a high from our trip to Vietnam, so we added a few films to our “to watch” list: the quiet romantic “Scent of Green Papayas” which I used to teach in Southeast Asian Literature, and “The Last Wife,” which I enjoyed despite the soap. Next in line is “Song of the South.”

Meanwhile, I’ve told friends that they and their adult (not small) children and grandchildren would enjoy a visit to this part of Vietnam. The best time, the guides say, is autumn.

As for us, we truly enjoyed the flowers, lanterns, lakes, food, sights, everything actually, during our short winter in Hanoi and spring in Da Nang, in all of one week.

Chúc mừng năm mới!

Featured header images: Common sights in Hanoi are window shutters on blended French and Vietnamese architecture and the abundance of multi-colored lanterns. (Photo credits: Laly Caedo, Sol Santos, Kara Santos, Art Fuentes)