For a few short moments, I felt what it was like to live in a Communist Country.
We were visiting the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum in Hanoi. A HUGE concrete building all for a man who wanted to be cremated. The grounds are decently big and you wind your way around, dropping off luggage, cameras and lining up before you even approach the actual mausoleum. As soon as we entered the fenced enclosure, a man in uniform pointed at me and I was directed to put on my long sleeved shirt to cover my shoulders in a sign of respect. Luckily I had read about that and planned ahead, but it sure made my body temp rise as the day was not a cool one.
After leaving my bag at the checked bags place since you can’t bring anything inside, we walked a bit further along and merged into what resembled a line. We didn’t go very far until another man in uniform indicated for us to stop. (The sign said this was a “Pause.”) He asked us to remove our sunglasses and stand two by two on the right side. We lined up and after a small wait, were given the sign to keep walking.
A little further along, a woman in uniform indicated for us to remain in line until we approached the x-ray mags that we were to walk thru for security. Sunglasses in hand, we walked thru and continued ahead. Now we maintained our two by two approach on a particular side of the road, a bit line snaking its way around. At one point, we crossed paths with a group, also in 2×2 lines, who wanted to cross the other side. They were being held by a man in uniform. Imagine walking on a sidewalk and coming onto a fairly empty road. You would cross. Except not in Vietnam. You wait for the armed guard to tell you its okay to cross the street.
We approached another small checked luggage area where James and Matthijs were to leave their cameras. Kyra and I gathered with other people waiting, not wanting to step out of our allowed area of traveling. We regrouped and kept walking, passing signs telling you that cellphones must be visible in your hand. Finally, we approached this huge building, similar to Boston City Hall in that concrete jungle kind of way overlooking a gorgeous lawn with amazing green grass–not to be walked on of course.
Maintaining our 2×2 approach, we lined up outside. Cellphones and sunglasses in hand. Hands out of pockets. In silence. Until a couple minutes later when we exited the building.
Gotta admit, seeing a dead guy, embalmed like that was pretty cool. Could have been the atmosphere, the armed guards around him, the history of the man, the impressiveness of the building, but it worked. I was awed. Interestingly enough, we were one of the few tourists in line. Uncle Ho is revered by his people and they hold him in high regard….well the North Vietnamese do.
On a side note, Uncle Ho goes to Russia for two months every year in the late fall for maintenance.
