The Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

Sue was feeling poorly on our first day in Hanoi, so this morning I set out on my own to walk the three or four kilometres to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.  It's a chaotic and friendly city, teeming with motorbikes and taxis and sensually overwhelming, with its mixture of strange sounds, sights and smells.

Our hotel is in the old quarter, which is particularly dense and busy, with narrow streets and a jumble of old buildings in a wide range of architectural styles.  As I got closer to the mausoleum the streets turned into wide boulevards and more police and military uniforms became apparent.

Eventually I reached the queue for the Mausoleum, patrolled by sombre white-uniformed soldiers who checked we were suitably attired (no vests or short shorts, no cameras and sunglasses and hats respectfully removed).  We were kept moving at a steady walking pace up marble stairs and round a couple of corners into the chamber where Ho's body lies in state, looking like a Tussaud's waxwork.  Apparently the body is whisked off to Moscow for a few weeks each year for "maintenance".

Inside the chamber the white-uniformed guards seem particularly sombre - there are several lining the walls and one at each corner of the coffin/sarcophagus.  They exhort us to keep moving, somehow emphasising their special status as guardians with a right to stay in the company of the Leader.

Filing back out into the heat and the sunlight I put my sunglasses back on and reflect on the experience, which has left me peculiarly moved.  I guess because Ho's mausoleum is such a powerful symbol which works on many levels.  At one level it's a powerful statement by the Vietnamese government that however liberal their economic policies have become, Vietnam is still at heart an unreformed one-party communist state.  At another it's a demonstration of a kind of doomed conservatism, desperate to embalm the past and create the impression that Ho's spirit lives on, although the man himself apparently wanted a quiet cremation.  At yet another it's a tourist freakshow to which everyone is invited provided they follow the rules, which kind of adds to the freakiness.

Afterwards I paid the small fee to visit Ho's nearby house, where his official cars are on display and his bedroom, study and politbureau meeting room.  Also there is a "stilt house" where he liked to spend time.  What's most interesting about these is that the rooms are beautifully and simply furnished with stylish pieces from the thirties in hardwood, plywood and bamboo, which suggest the man had extremely good taste that is very much at variance with the heavy-handed style of the mausoleum built in his honour and obviously against his wishes.

Back at the hotel the attentive and american accented reception staff asked me if I had enjoyed my visit.  To which I replied "yes, it was very interesting," accompanied by the most knowing smile I could muster.