A four berth night sleeper from Sapa to Hanoi. What glamour and excitement. 12 pounds and a bottle of water is included.
There are pros and cons to arriving in a capital city at 5.a.m. No hotels are open.We sit quietly and watch the sun rise over Hoan Kiem lake as hundreds of early morning exercisers conduct slow motion synchronised arabesques around the water’s edge. We saunter through the peculiarly peaceful streets of old Hanoi town in search of lodgings. The conical hatted street vendors setting out their fish and fruit.
Now it is a question of winding down, a holiday even. I loved piloting a volunteer scheme, the searching, trying out new things, trying to put awkward inroads together to make a whole; unexpectedly, the idea of a holiday feels like a loss. Christmas beckons. The balustrade of our hotel has been bound in green crepe and scarlet ribbons and I can see the hoteliers hope we will comment on the flashing Christmas tree.
Phuong has invited us to his flat once again to share a hotpot with his parents, up from the country for a special occasion. Present too, his brother who was an illegal immigrant for so long in London. I am struck by the contrast in lifestyle between us and this person with whom we have spent the best part of 6 weeks; travelling, team teaching, eating, problem solving, bouncing off our feelings about Vietnam, playing scrabble in cafes, practising our singing for the People’s Party, growing closer. We all sit cross legged in a circle on the floor around the generous, steaming food. There is just space next to the large bed which Phuong shares with his brother. The toilets with no running water and the kitchen are shared with many many other people. It is a marvellous evening. Despite the fact that his parents speak no English, and we no Vietnamese, we feel homely again, altogether. His father says the children at the school often ask when we are coming back again. We have bought Whisky for the father. He says he will keep it in the altar to the ancestors, which I believe (hope) is an indication of its value to the family. The tone is light; a football match demands attention on the large television above us. After the meal we lounge on the bed together whilst the food is cleared away. Gradually we realise that tonight fifty members of the family are gathering here and tomorrow we cannot meet up. What is the event?
‘We move my grandmother
Tonight, at 2 a.m. fifty family members will gather to remove the body from her coffin where she was interred 8 years ago. Then they will transport the skeleton so that it can be placed in a family tomb equidistant from their houses. By taxi? Peter and myself are stunned.
‘Will you do all this yourselves, or will someone else do it?
‘Yes, we do it.
‘Do you find it difficult?
‘No, we ha’ protective gloves. Everyone, they do.
Silence, apart from the football match.
‘But my mother, I was 16 when we did. I cry'.