Commitalism

Placard at the entrance of Lenin Park

The Socialist Republic of Vietnam is officially a communist regime. There are certain visible symbols that are evident even to tourists passing through on their South East Asia tour such as the large placards depicting proud citizen standing tall and gazing in the distance; Ho Chi Minh busts in every conference or lecture hall and hammer and sickle emblems decorating numerous buildings, old and new, throughout the city. Most visitors might think that these apparent symbols are simple residues of the past and that they have little of no meaning in today's dynamic and forward-looking Vietnam.  

Even when living here, there might seem to be very little left of Ho Chi Minh's vision of a united and communal Vietnam, but the government's apparatchiks and their propaganda stand strong in complete contrast to the advent of market capitalism and the sequences of doi moi's (economic reforms). The subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) signs of communist stronghold can only be experienced when fully living the life.

Propaganda radio

A not-so-pleasant practice is the Vietnamese public propaganda radio which awakes me every morning at dawn (except Sundays). The loudspeakers are installed along every city street. In the mornings, you can hear a male voice ranting along, often accompanied by brief musical intermissions. In the afternoons, around 4.30 pm, a female voice takes the lead chattering away the Party's recent achievements and coming events. These sessions can last up to 30 minutes and consist of a series of announcements including personal ones, like your neighbour's failure to pay his monthly electric bill.

Call to rest

There are also other more pleasant practices. The government enforces a curfew starting at midnight. Nobody (except bars that can afford some baksheesh for the authorities making the rounds) is able to stretch their opening hours late into the night. Although this fact might be difficult to digest when you're a Westerner used to spending weekend nights out without a concern for plans or time, there is certainly a charm in the daily curfew call. I would almost call it a poetic practice: a curfew broadcast announced every night, like clockwork, by a bicycle messenger riding through the neighbourhood chanting something that almost sounds like a lullaby.  It's certainly an enjoyable moment of the day, particularly when you're lying in bed, waiting for sleep to grace you with its presence.

Call to rest: we warned you!

But if you're a night owl enjoying your drinks at a local bar, be prepared for surprises! In one of my first weeks in Hanoi I joined some friends at a concert hall mostly populated by expatriates. At around midnight, a friend of mine and I decided we had enough of the lousy music and headed towards the exit. To our surprise, a lot of commotion was going on at the entrance. People were panicking as a group of Vietnamese authorities lifted a number of parked motorbikes only to set them in the back of a pick-up truck and drive off into the night. It was the most effective non-verbal manner of informing the bar owner and his customers that the party was over and that prompt measures should be taken to follow curfew closing rules. Watch your… bike!

We have the authority

After almost a month of waiting, I finally received a letter from customs informing me that two packages from the United States were waiting for pick-up: my mother's goodies! I was ecstatic, but this moment of bliss didn't last long. After the office's driver went for the daily mail pick-up, they refused to hand him my parcels. They claimed that I lack diplomatic status and that I therefore needed to present myself in person to pay customs fees for the parcels.

Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum in Hanoi

At the post office I was forced to observe the customs lady eviscerate the parcels under the watchful eye of a mafioso-looking official in a tidy uniform. Every item was pulled out separately, each one analyzed and registered on a sheet of paper. The process was long and excruciating and all I could think about was how I was losing valuable time from work to observe this circus. When all items the were duly listed, the customs lady disappeared and reappeared multiple times only to tell me that I needed to go to the other office and pay the customs fee.

Three accountants were busy reviewing my pile of paper that was handed to them. I waited; and waited; and waited until finally the main accountant signaled me to come forward and said: "20,000 Vietnam Dong, please" (equaling $1). I gave her a blank stare, so she repeated: "20,000 Vietnam Dong, please". I was paralyzed by rage. I couldn't believe I was losing my entire afternoon to pay $1 for taxes! She seemed a little uneasy, so she said: "It's not so much Miss" letting loose an uncomfortable smile while all I could hear roaring in my head was: "I would have gladly paid even $10 just to avoid my visit to your post office!", but I shut my mouth, paid the fee and walked out in a hurry, hoping she wouldn't call me back with second thoughts.