Vietnam.question Of Time.

Gone with the time By Nathalie Sokolovskaya For Giang who once told me there is no time N wildly right she was The seasons like wind ,the seasons like clouds All streams stretch their hands to meet the high sea Night waits for the light Rain longs for the first ray of the sun Let river be boat ,let clouds be sails May fog drops have date with buds in the rain. Never ask,never wait But come, then forsake The seasons change lives as they change leaves, which got dry. Irreversibly. Overpowering time, It’s only the smile of the bottomless sky , That makes the eternity shy. Trinh Cong Son.Four seasons /Bon mua Translated by N.Sokolovskaya

A relatively long residing in unfamiliar environment in permanent contact with people grown in different culture with its original notion and perception of time,space,casuality ,with its rich variety of exotical traditions and customs, with often unexpected and inexplicable for foreigner code of conduct may produce very different effects on poor resident from vivid interest and acceptance to cultural shock up to say so Kwinke swelling. Depending on one’s personality, curousity and level of one’s tolerance.And sense of humour,of course.Anyway a bright bouquet of moments to remember is guaranted.I would never forget my anecdotic experience of the first contact with rural time perception in the Northern Vietnam. I was riding from Tay Thien Pagoda back to Tam Dao hill station with a friend as a passenger.The darkness has just descended on the surroundings so sweetly peaceful by daytime. We passed through a small village ,dazzled at its total emptiness and motionless The only lighting came from TV screens inside houses .The road went deep into the endless corn fields. The bloody moon has suddenly risen from the horizon. The situation was already pretty tense for nerves when wicked petrol has gone. That’s when 2 rather grown-up persons with a healthy sense of reason were literally cramped by dreadful “collective” illusion of Stephen King’s notorious children of corn to come and devour us. No hope for escape .The cauchemardesque feeling of a fall into some surrealist hole with no time,no reason,no cause.The paralisys lasted the full eternity ,that subsequently happened to be some 15-20 mitutes. Then some compassionate kind-hearted fairy sent us a man on a motorbike.So corn children were left without dinner for that sinister evening.It was 19 o’clock.The formless monster that frightened us to death appeared to be a harmless agricultural rhythm of life and farmers ’ time perception ,oriented on the needs of corn fields. That’s how the unexpected meeting with unknown lifestyle quakes one’s vision of world at its very basis . But for remuneration one ll probably get some clairvoyance that ll let him see the mystery under the cover of the apparent. Or one ll drop in the philosophical mood.That is also not that bad as a élan of a soul. As the meeting with the unknown definitely sharpen the vision of the world : reality turns in to a game,rules of which are defined not that much by the Nature,but more by The Culture.

Few would be surprised at the idea that Not everyone in the world views the concept of time in the same way. In fact, some cultures don’t even make time a part of their lives. Some cultures are wary of time passing by, while others run their lives by the clock

Time,apparently synchronized ,counted and dosed in hours,minutes,secondes at the first glance,in fact turns to be far less obedient to human invented rules,often behaving like a foot of a logic,sprained all of a sudden right on the red carpet of vanity.The mathematical time that strechs from the past to the future uninterrupted turns to be a fragile shell of something unknown.Not only is it varying greatly in different contries but also within one region.The time of a writer or painter that got up at 2 pm specially to have his time for him and to stay tete a tete with the whole universe has nothing in common with that of a night bartender.What is a second of Presidents life against the last second of a suicider that already stepped of the platform with one foot? Time is like a giant kaleidoscope with myriads of multi-colored pieces laying in ornaments depending on who revolts it , invented by someone,not deprived of the dry wit. Its totally mysterious in its motivation:on the first day of long waited vacation one, awaken 30 minutes before a plane he bought a ticket for , take off for some wonderland of sandy beaches , manages to cover the full lenght of Saigon megapolis to arrive to the airport just in time his lower filet part be pinched with doors of transfer bus(note,from inside of the bus ) but the same person needs months to give his old parents a phone call. The time in Hanoi is like a bitter green tea ,that is sipped from tiny glasses slowly,very slowly .Forcedly..As if just in order not to offend some hospitable friend who has offered it.The time here is thick and sticky as Vietnamese coffee, it drips through small filters slowly drop after drop, sometimes like a drop after drop on the head of a prisoner in a cell of tortures.Dangerous for those whose working hours are not tense enough.It should be treated with great precaution That’s my personal impression.I m not imposing. Stingy tropical sun melts the time in seashore regions of Vietnam,like it melts pavements of their highways, chasing indigenous people in the deep of shady gardens with a hammock as a basic instrument of time spending,with a local dusty highway with trucks and buses passing by as a never-ending sitcom. These sorts of time ‘ve nothing in common with one in boiling and vibrating Saigon.That’s where money burns the time much more than the sun do. Hours of Vietnamese market sellers,flower sellers ,walking street sellers, small grocery’s , eateries owners differs greatly and can seem unbearably tough to foreigners, starting at 3-4 am and measured by kilogramms of goods carried, killometeres of dark streets made on an overshipped motorbike, by miles of dusty streets and small lanes walked on feet by street vendors, by dozens of litres of noodle soup ,prepared for clients’ breakfast. In the afternoon times hides itself in the corners of narrow streets to escape the burning heat and let people have 2 hours of nap, often taken right on the streets on sleeping straw mats. The midnight is when hours of workers and builders at construction sites begin.Construction works in Vietnam is a topic worth of separate article.As the country is living through a real boom of construction, boiling day and night and turning poor neighbours into a corps of soldiers capable to sleep with noises compared with these of a canon shooting.Women working at road and building constructions as coolies is a phenomenon in Vietnam I would never accept and never get used to. The commentaries from Vietnamese readers are gently required. The incredible engine of hard labour runs 24/24 in Vietnam without any accidental fail, moving the enormous endless circle, circle of KIEP(life,existence,incarnation ).The meaning of Vietnamese Kiep is rather complicated for exact definiti .It comes from Buddhism doctrine of incarnations, richly flavoured with local believes.Looking on the present kiep the percpicatious one can guess what his precedent life was like and what the next one would be.One is worth of his present kiep and should be content of his kiep lam nguoi(reincarnation in human being) which is better than this of an animal or stone.Who knows ,hovewer…

The circle of kiep is everlasting.As it is everlasting ,some wise Vietnamese citizens seem to take their present kiep as kiep off, spending the whole days in small open- air cafes,sipping tea and observing ironically the wild race of others for material wealth .They probably have something to learn from.As the circle of lives is never-ending why not to follow their example.Not for all life,of course but for a day only?Or why not to play into gamble with the time,which is more interesting? As the time is often perfectly willing to…One of the possible options to overwit it is to get into … the time machine in Vietnam.As Dalat,a highhill resort city in the central Highlands of Vietnam, has one!!It departs daily at 4pm from Dalat old railway station, so anyone intrigued has a chance to experience how it feels like to travel across times and cultures at an hour. The old steam-engine locomotive that carries tourists throughout times and cultures has its own interesting story to tell.According to the city oldest residents,i t was brought to mountainous Dalat in the early 1900s by Frenchmen on backs of culis and horses.The 300 km long railway connecting Dalat with Saigon and NhaTrang cities has been built by French consructers Odhera,Garnier and Bernard by 1922.It gave highhill town development its kick start and led it to a pretentious position of the summer capital of colonial Indochina. To make the train resistant to mountainous landscapes and hard passes it was supplied by specilally designed sawteeth like wheels. At that time there were 2 trains departing from Dalat to Saigon and Nha Trang,always fully packed with French and Vietnamese travelling officials. Both of them comprised 3 passenger cars and one baggage car.It took approximately 13 hours to get from southern capital Saigon to Dalat. In the late 60th during Vietnam war for Independence Dalat railway was partly destroyed and stopped its operation.It has spent nearly 40 years in lethargic sleep till 1997 when 7km of rails leading to Trai Mat village have been restored to serve tourists. The route is not that long but provides the full variety of bright impressions .A few minutes after train departure and one observes the total change of outer decorations :from a cold beauty of European look like city to truly asian countryside with tiny houses, small gardens that seem to have just escaped from some kind fairy tale, persimmon trees with bright orange fruits at a distance of a hand, flower greenhouses and Linh Phuoc Pagoda as a final route destination. Built in 1953 this Pagoda is one of impressive examples of authentic Vietnamese architecture. It’s one of the brightest reflections of a fantasy and skills of Vietnamese artisans at their full creativeness and inventiveness. The full complex comprises the 2 stories pompous main pagoda richly decorated with multicolored mosaic of broken porcelain dishes with 5m height Buddha on a lotus flower inside;and 6 levels tower covered with sophisticated ornaments, giving a magnificent panorama of surroundings from the top. The tower shelters an immense bell fixated to the very top, seen from the ground floor as the bottomless eye of eternity and a big drum to help Buddha hear clearer prays of visitors. The whole incredible construction is completed by 36 meters long dragon made of beer bottles and broken dishes pieces, kneeling to worship Bouddha. If time machine did ever exist, one of it’s best models is Dalat old train that gives passengers an unforgettable experience of traveling through times and spaces. Dalat is the city that strikes by mysterious atmosphere, inimitably weaved amazing combination of old French architecture with traditional Vietnamese pagodas and even with Zen Buddhism monastery ,by peaceful neighborhood of juicy yellow bamboo valleys and deep green pine forests,by happy co-existence of the close past and the present. Dalat seems to turn contrasts into the harmony, to reunite and to deflect two opposite categories-the past and the present. It seems to know the secret of time deflection, and it has got its own time niches ,or time bridges ,which is a better word. Those who don’t like time machines should pay a visit to” One hundred roofs” café,on Phan Boi Chau street(Café Mot tram mai), the incredible beton fantasy of a local architect Lu Truc Phuong who managed to put the history of Vietnam from its very beginning into 7 stories house, (if it could be called a house) .Come there on week days when it’s not crowded to see with your own eyes how the time is hypnotized ,at listening Khanh Ly old records and how it surrenders

and deflects itself obediently in amazing interior ornaments of the café .Let yourself be hypnotized and captured by the power of owner-architect’s fantasy as the time here do. If a couple of hours in such an ambiance seem not enough for a complete impression and the hazardous soul wants the game to go on then one should go to Hang Nga Moon Villa. This construction,being out of any possible architectural genre, rises from the turn of the Huynh Khuc Khang street as the fancies hallucination one could ever get . The Moon villa, known amongst indigenous people and tourists as Crazy House, is probably the most insolite and delirant construction in the South-Eastern Asia. The guest house was erected 10 years ago by lady- architect Dr Dang Viet Nga. Inspired by natural beauty of the mountainous city the architect planned to build a villa that would harmonise with natural landscapes as much as possible. The result of her vivid imagination, great inspiration and hard work stands above all possible expectations. This miracle of architecture a la Gaudienne represents an immense branchy tree made of beton with labyrinths of honey-bee house like corridors, sheltering inside 10 rooms . Each of villa’s rooms has its own friendly spirit :figure of Bear ,Eagle, Tiger , honey bee etc placed in the center to guard a sweet sleep of their guests .The whole construction is finished by giant beton giraffe outside as a final touch to make the head of a visitor go –round completely. One can broke the eyes trying to find a single sharp corner in the whole building. Bet there is none. The author of the villa, Dr Dang Viet Nga,is an outstanding woman, who had overcome many obstacles, but managed to conquer her fantastic world from banality. Come to the Moon villa and leave all the conventions of time and space aside for a night or two.Let the worls slide. Get lost in the curving net of pathways in this sweet dream of stone where the time has definitely lost a final game to the imagination and the creativeness! While I were writing this article,an old 2 stories house,absolutely untouched in the morning, next to my residence has been destroyed at zero by wokers ,with only bare land left.That is also a question of time. @Nathalie Alexandra Sokolovskaya.17.3.2009