Vietnam's eco-tourism spot: Ke Go

Completely enclosed by forest with a great diversity of precious trees as well as rare and endangered animal species inhabiting the area, Ke Go Natural Reserve has become a highly valuable tourist location in Ha Tinh.

Rare timber trees are still found in Ke Go Nature Reserve.

Ke Go was originally the name of an ancient Vietnamese village in My Due Commune (now Cam My Commune, Cam Xuyen District, Ha Tinh Province), which is about 20 kilometres south of Ha Tinh City. The old village was located along the river bank of the Rao Cai River. Hundreds of small streams from Truong Son Range gather here in this huge river, a river that has supported the life of its locals for generations. However, it can also be wild and raging bringing great danger to people during the rainy season every year.

Since the early twentieth century, a dam was expected to be built by the French in Vietnam, but due to World War II and later the Indochina War, the construction was stopped. Finally, on March 26, 1976, when Vietnam was reunified as one nation, the dam was built and completed by Vietnamese irrigation companies. It was named Ke Go and put into use on February 3, 1988.

Ke Go Lake is located in the area of 3 districts; Cam Xuyen, Ky Anh and Huong Khe. The lake is a large irrigation work with the water volume of 350 million cubic metres, enough water supply for almost 17,000 hectares of rice distributed in districts Thach Ha and Cam Xuyen, Ha Tinh Commune and north of Ky Anh District. At 30 kilometres in length, the lake also provides an abundant source of food supply for the locals.

As well as its practical use, the lake is a highlighted feature of the Nature Reserve. The reserve is the largest among its kind in the central area of Vietnam, covering a natural area of 35 hectares with many timber trees that are listed in the Vietnam Red Book such as green ironwood, meranti, red-wood, and frankincense. The rich and diverse flora of the reserve is representative of the flora in northern Vietnam, South China, Indonesia, Malaysia and the Himalayas.

Until now, 364 vertebrate animal species have been found in the Ke Go Nature Resrve. White-tailed wattle pheasant, one of the three endemic pheasant types of Vietnam, is currently at risk of extinction. Among 47 mammal species here, 18 were recorded in the Vietnam Red Book and world Red List. Ke Go Forest is home to many beautiful and different types of flowers such as magnolias and orchids.

The lake also has numerous oasis. Ke Go has been visited and studied by both national and international scientists. Ha Tinh authorities are calling for investment to turn the Ke Go Lake area and Ke Go Nature Reserve into an eco-tourism area with complete services.

Below are some photos captured at Ke Go Nature Reserve.

Boat used to cross the lake.

Small oasis are a special feature of the reserve.

Stream water is crystall clear.

Wading through the stream.

Forest half-immersed in water contributes to the ecological diversity.

Khe Xai Waterfall.

Many caves are also an attraction.

Honey from the bee hives in the reserve is a significant source of income to many locals. 

Source: Van Dung - Tam Mao, dtinews

Saigon's Banh Mi

Booming Saigon, a city on the move, lays claim to a specialty that Vietnamese-American writer Monique Truong, author of "The Book of Salt" and the coming "Bitter in the Mouth," calls "the ultimate on-the-go fare": the extravagantly stuffed banh mi sandwich.

 Saigon signature sandwich, David Hagerman for The Wall Street Journal

The most popular form is banh mi thit ("thit" means "meat"), a warmed baguette spread with mayonnaise and pâté and filled with ham, headcheese and sausage. Cucumber, tomato, cilantro, chilies, and do chua, a bracing radish-and-carrot relish, add characteristic Vietnamese freshness. Optional condiments include chili sauce, Maggi (a bottled sauce of Swiss origin) and soy sauce.

Ordered to go, banh mi comes wrapped in scrap paper secured with a rubber band, a portable meal epitomizing Saigon's "insatiable appetite and deep desires, for better or worse, to keep moving," says Ms. Truong, who was born in Saigon, now officially called Ho Chi Minh City.
The History

The French introduced baguettes to Vietnam, where the locals called the narrow loaves banh tay (literally, "foreign cake").

"Banh tay were for rich Vietnamese. They dipped them in sweetened condensed milk," recalls 83-year-old Thinh Thi Nguyen, who was born in a village near Hanoi. She didn't eat her first baguette sandwich until she was 20; by then Vietnamese called them banh mi ("mi" means "wheat").

In 1954 French rule ended, Vietnam was split in two, and many of the north's shopkeepers moved to noncommunist South Vietnam. Former northerners like 78-year-old Ding Chieu Nguyen, whose family had owned a banh mi shop in Hanoi, made Saigon the new sandwich capital. Her Saigon banh mi shop, Hoa Ma Quan, remains one of the city's most popular after 50 years.

Food shortages followed the end of the war and reunification of the country in 1975, and banh mi was once again an extravagance. But free-market reforms in the late '80s unleashed Vietnam's entrepreneurial spirit and banh mi resurfaced, mostly as street food.

These days vendors stuff baguettes with cheese, tinned sardines in tomato sauce, shredded chicken, grilled pork patties, meatballs in sweet barbecue sauce, fried eggs cooked to order and, especially on the first and 15th of the lunar month (when many Buddhists eschew meat), gluten and bean curd.
The Setting

Baguette sandwiches are sold from shop fronts, push carts, motorbikes and shoulder poles. "Why buy all the pieces and put them together when it's so easy" to hit the streets? asks Saigon native Van Luk.

Depending on the time of day and the size of its baguette, banh mi can be a snack or a meal. "I like it best in the morning and in the evening," says Ms. Luk. "It's too heavy for lunch, when we prefer rice or soup."

Ms. Truong, however, reckons that "every hour is banh mi hour," as long as the sandwich is eaten "within five minutes of it being made. There is something close to alchemy," she says, "when the baguette is still hot and has lent its warmth to the pâté and the [sausage], while not wilting the cilantro or cucumber spears."
The Judgment

These days most baguettes are made with a combination of wheat and rice flours, resulting in a fluffy crumb and exceptionally crackly crust. Some consumers feel this adds a welcome textural dimension to the banh mi, but Vietnamese old enough to remember traditional French-style baguettes don't always agree.

For Ms. Luk, the filling is the key: "The pâté shouldn't smell too strong, the ham and pork should be excellent quality." And the mayonnaise, she adds, should be made in-house, with fresh eggs.

Like the city that calls the sandwich its own, banh mi continues to evolve. Several shops in Saigon have recently introduced baguettes stuffed with pork roasted on a spit. But die-hard fans have their limits.

"I don't want to hear about the shiitake- or portobello-mushroom banh mi," says Ms. Truong. "I'm sure there are lovely mushroom sandwiches, but let's not kid ourselves."

The Sources Hoa Ma Quan sets Saigon's banh mi thit pace with big, warm, crusty baguettes, homemade mayonnaise and heavenly pâté. For to-go orders, pickles are packed separately so the baguette doesn't get soggy. About 94 U.S. cents 53 Cao Thang, District 3; no phone; 6 a.m. to noon (often sold out by 11 a.m.) The banh mi dac biet ("special") at utilitarian eatery-cum-bakery Nhu Lan are premade but can be supplemented with extra meats and pickles ordered at the counter where they're stacked. $1.05 64-68 Ham Nghi St., District 1; Tel.: 84-8-829-2970 The line at at Banh Mi Hong Phuc hints at the tastiness of banh mi thit, made with chewy, wheaty baguettes and excellent pâté. About 52 U.S. cents Stall No. 2014, Tan Dinh Market, Hai Ba Trung Street, District 1; no phone; open mornings only It's takeaway only at long-established Banh Mi Ha Noi, where the banh mi thit, made with a soft, chewy baguette, lacks tomato but contains a bit of French Laughing Cow-brand cheese. $1.05 83-85 Nguyen Thien Thuot, District 3; Tel.: 84-8-833-4288

Source: Robyn Eckhardt, Wall Street Journa

A village of Quang Ngai Province has become famous for recycling used tires into useful products.

Hoa Binh village is located at Nghia Hoa Commune, Tu Nghia District, Quang Ngai Province.

Used tires are scattered throughout the village. They are placed in yards, gardens and along both sides of the road.

After being bought, used tires are examined. Used tires which remain good enough to be reused will be sold to truck or bulldozer owners. Those which are not will be threaded so that they can be sold to tire manufacturing plants.

Reselling used tires is a form of steady income for many villagers. They buy them at VND200,000-500,000 ($10.3-25.9) per tire and sell them at VND700,000-1,000,000 ($36.2-51.7) per tire.

People here also make products from the used tires to earn a living.

The tires can be made into buckets which are used for mixing concrete or troughs for pigs.

This profession is very hard work. People in the trade have to go and find tires despite any weather condition and constantly inhale rubber dust which is very harmful for their respiratory system.

However, this profession will help them earn good money. They can make VND100,000-150,000 ($5.17-7.8) per day when they recycle 5-7 used tires. This profession has created jobs for about 3,000 locals.

Below are some pictures of the recycling process:

Used tires are placed everywhere

Old tires are piled up



A tire is being cut



A bucket for mixing concrete

Spinning rubber threads



Children in the village grow up with used tires



This profession helps 3,000 people have stable incomes

 

Source: Cong Binh, dtinews

Ditching the meat

Mai Linh writes of the growing numbers of people going vegetarian in Vietnam.

More and more people are turning to the greener side of the plate, as vegetarian diets become an increasingly popular way to eat healthy without missing out on the taste

A vegetarian buffet bar.

Customers at Viet Chay Vegetarian Restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City.

At 11.30 am, Nang Tam Vegetarian Restaurant at 79 Tran Hung Dao Street, Hanoi was more crowded than usual. The restaurant was expecting to be busy as it was the first day of lunar June and Buddhists had flocked here for the best in vegetarian meals.

But as many westerners filed through the doors, it became obvious that the restaurant’s patrons were not all there for religious reasons. We ask a receptionist at the restaurant, and she told us that not all of them were Buddhists. She explained that many people come here to change their diet, follow a friend’s suggestion, or out of curiosity to see how a restaurant could serve up so many Vietnamese dishes without any meat. The restaurant is also riding on a growing trend of vegetarianism, increasingly popular in Vietnam, especially in the two big cities of Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh.

Hoang Mai, a 25 year-old receptionist at VinCom City Towers, was enjoying rice with fried fish and crab soup while her two friends were having fried chicken and beef noodle; minus the fish, crab, chicken and beef. “It tastes great,” Mai smiled. “The interesting thing is that I can eat as much chicken as I want without worrying about putting on weight,” Mai’s friend Minh Thu laughed. “It’s made of bean.”

Mai said that it was the third time they came here and they loved the food. “We are not Buddhists but we think that eating vegetarian food is good for our health,” she said. More than that, Minh Thu hopes to loose weight this way. “I am following a strict diet to loose weight,” she said. “Coming here I have many choices.”

Many local people, especially the younger generation, are turning vegetarian for a variety of reasons. “At first, I started going to a vegetarian restaraunt when I grew sick of meat, and gradually I started really enjoying vegetarian meals,” Phan Linh remembered. “Fortunately, a manager at the restaurant has suggested a suitable diet to treat my stomachache. Now I eat vegetarian food two times a week.”

Nguyen Tien Minh, manager of a fashion shop on Chua Boc Street said he likes eating vegetarian foods because it gives him “peace in mind”.

“I am a Buddhist and besides, the 1st and 15th day of every lunar month, I eat vegetarian food whenever I am under stress or pressure. At home I also often cook vegetarian food for the whole family.

According to Trinh Huong Thuy, manager of Huong Thuy Vegetarian Restaurant on Truong Đinh Street, more and more people are turning to vegetarian food. Her restaurant is often overcrowded, especially on the 1st or 15th day of the lunar month. “Many people have to order our delivery service,” she said.

To meet customer demands, other than normal dishes like rice served with tofu, vegetables, noodle with mushroom, and so on, restaurants are now making many special dishes that look like normal foods such as fried chicken, stewed steak, and noodle with beef and chicken, with some tricky meat substitutes.

Vegetarian food is also attracting people at the market and supermarket. Other than fresh foods, Vietnamese vegetarians now have an array of tinned, frozen or dried products to choose from.

Buddhist philosophy says that eating vegetarian food has many advantages such as long life, less disease, less hostility and heaven after death. But as vegetarian food gets a better rap and better taste, non-Buddhists are beginning to realize the health benefits of dropping the meat.

Vegetarian restaurants:

-Hanoi:

* Nang Tam, 79 Tran Hung Dao Street, tel: 04.39424140; have some 70 different vegetarian dishes, opening for lunch and dinner.

* Quan Ngoai O, 32 Ba Trieu Street, tel: 04.62784406, serve Vietnamese vegetarian buffet featuring 35 dishes. Diners reserve coupons which are priced at VND 165,000 each.

* Dakshin, 94 Hang Trong, tel: 04. 39286872/39286867, serving Indian foods

* Nam An, No.1, Lane 39, Linh Lang Street, tel: 04.37629506, has special dishes for patients suffering from cancer, diabetes, etc.

* Au Lac, No.10, Lane 318, Lang Street, tel: 35621845.

- Ho Chi Minh City:

* Thuyen Vien, 13 Nguyen Van Dau, W.5, Phu Nhuan District, tel: 08. 8432643.

* Au Lac, 60 Tan Vinh, W.6, D.4, tel: 08.8265856.

* Cat Tuong, 369 Le Quang Dinh, W.5, Binh Thanh District, tel:08.5151048.

* Phat Huu Duyen, 527 Nguyen Trai, D.5, tel: 08.8577919, serving Chinese vegetarian foods.

Source:  Mai Linh, dtinews

The Battle for Hue

Nguyen Pham Thien Huy seems a most unlikely conservationist. A cocky 25-year-old who favors faded jeans and tight T-shirts, he spent six months in prison a few years back for admitted "bar brawling."

 Nguyen Pham Thien Huy in one of his workshops

 Tom That Loi in his nha ruong, built by his father

 Tom That Loi's place as seen from the lily pond

 Ngoc Son, formerly a retreat for a princess and now a home for a historian, was restored with funding from the French senate.

 The gateway to the traditional nha ruong An Hien, in the Kim Long district

 Inside An Hien

Ton That Sa, in his pajamas, bids welcome to his nha ruong.

But looking for a vocation after his release, he was hired by some friends to relocate and restore a complex of traditional wooden ancestral halls, called nha ruong, that had belonged to a wife of a 19th-century emperor. It launched a lucrative contracting career.

Today Mr. Huy has four workshops and a staff of other ex-convicts—rehabilitation through renovation—mentored by a few elder craftsmen ("still easy to find," he says). He has become a local television personality pitching "a younger generation's appreciation for our city's beautiful legacy," though these days he does more business creating reproductions of the old-style buildings than in fixing up the real things.

On numerous leafy side streets within sight of the Citadel—one of Vietnam's best-protected monuments, though still marked with bullet holes from the war with the U.S.—rusted gates and crumbling balustrades mask lesser-known architectural trademarks of this former royal capital: the handmade, nail-less one-room nha ruong and nha vuon, elegantly landscaped garden houses built for the elite of Vietnam's Nguyen Dynasty (1802-1945). They reflect what Nguyen Xuan Hoa, director of the biennial Hue Festival, calls "a refined style of life that is the essence of Hue."

But there's not even agreement on how many remain, though all counts point to the same trend: the rapid dwindling of a once-ample heritage. When World War II broke out, there may have been as many as 20,000 nha ruong in Hue, says Nguyen Huu Thong, author of a new study of the city's architecture. As few as several hundred survive.

Most of the world remembers Hue, a city of 330,000 on the banks of the Perfume River, as site of the Vietnam War's fiercest battle, in which U.S. troops unleashed their firepower on the Vietcong who seized its ancient battlements during the 1968 Tet Offensive. Now the remaining symbols of peaceful, contemplative life in the country's cultural capital face a fresh threat: development.

Today, a traditional Hue home is likely to turn up as a transplant in Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi, serving as a restaurant or nightclub in front of a more modern structure, or as rooftop gazebo atop one. (The first ones that Mr. Huy restored were for gift shops, though they came from the outskirts of Hue into the city.) While this does keep the historical buildings intact, Hue officials don't consider it an ideal solution. Where other places in Asia worry about a "brain drain," they speak of a phenomenon that translates roughly as a "house drain."

Under sloping tile roofs (the tiles now often loose), the interiors of the nha ruong are divided by rows of sturdy jackfruit-wood columns and intricately carved braces that demarcate symmetrical vestibules crammed with ancestral photos and altars.

But a look inside one shows dilapidation, with bare light bulbs and linoleum replacing lanterns and terra-cotta floors. The main resident, Le Chi Nghe, is a street-food vendor who hardly has funds for restoration, hasn't been informed of numerous foreign preservation projects and is too suspicious of the government to apply for its loans. Besides, as is often the case, the other owners are spread around the globe, part of Vietnam's postwar diaspora.

"It would bring shame on us to sell this place of our ancestors, but to agree how to repair it is too big a headache," he says. Despite the common belief that selling is a betrayal of ancestral spirits, owners are more tempted to do so: The value of an intact nha ruong has increased 100-fold over the past decade, according to experts, and the cost of repair is likewise rising.

And for those who actually live in them, selling can be a chance to move out of homes that seem more suited to altars and offerings than air-conditioning, plumbing or privacy.

"Vietnam is moving from country to city at a quicker pace than any other place on earth," says Paul Schuttenbelt of Urban Solutions, a Dutch nongovernmental organization advising the government's undermanned Hue Monuments Conservation Centre. Since Unesco declared the city's imperial monuments a World Heritage site in 1993, international aid has financed the clearing of some illegal buildings and care (however uneven and seemingly haphazard) for the Forbidden City and outlying royal tombs, but Mr. Schuttenbelt says much remains undone: "Hue's 60 protected historic sites have yet to be centrally mapped, and the next 15-year plan for conserving the city, along with limits on demolition of heritage, has been delayed and remain unapproved."

While development here isn't yet the boom it is in Ho Chi Minh City, Hanoi or nearby Danang, Hue nonetheless shows the strains of unchecked urbanization. By some estimates, land prices have tripled in the past several years. Crowded with 100,000 people, the confines of the imperial city walls have sprouted an unsightly hodgepodge of construction.

Across the river, French colonial villas are being bulldozed and tree-cloaked streets are being widened for shopping malls and office blocks, while luxury hotels are flouting height limits recommended to maintain the royal palace's original sight lines.

But no element of Hue's heritage is more vulnerable than the scattered and unsupervised nha ruong—which Mr. Hoa, the cultural festival's director, declares "no less important than the Citadel and the tombs," explaining that the style dates to the 16th century.

As for the nha vuon, often similar but set on plots measuring up to 2,400 square yards and studded with lotus ponds, herbal plantings and decorative barriers, they "are organs in the cultural body of Hue," says the head of the province's Department of Culture, Sports and Tourism, Phan Tien Dzung. "They are like a small version of the royal palace for each family, and they display a model of harmony between humans and the natural environment."

Vietnam's law dividing inheritance equally among heirs—enacted to uphold the rights of women—generally works against the interests of preservation. Some garden houses' large lots have been subdivided into tiny areas, often leading to the construction of new concrete houses beside the nha vuon. But the divided ownership can also work to preservationists' advantage, Mr. Schuttenbelt says: "The lack of consensus among many relatives has also helped keep many of these houses standing."

An ambitious Ford Foundation program launched a decade ago in conjunction with Hue Heritage House, an organization founded under Unesco's auspices, aimed to encourage preservation by providing repair manuals and "raising awareness of the homes' values," recounts program director Michael DiGregorio. But it foundered in the face of inheritance and subdivision issues and ran out of funding with barely a single structure saved.

More successful was a smaller-scale program that Hue's sister city of Lille, France, began the same year. It returned some 15 old Hue houses to pristine condition, walls repainted in original ocean blue, termites checked and foundations raised to cope with frequent floods. Plaques on them attest to the support of the "Sénat du France."

In return, residents merely had to pledge to refrain from selling the homes for a profit. They weren't required to open them to visitors, though many do. The most often displayed is Ngoc Son, a former retreat of a princess now inhabited in messily archive-crammed fashion by Hue's leading historian, Phan Thuan An.

In Kim Long, a green area just beyond the city walls that was the favored neighborhood of scholars and senior government officials, some of the city's biggest and best-preserved garden houses are readily open for view—for a "donation" of 50,000 dong ($2.60) to the aging residents. A quick survey reveals these were restored by owners themselves, too proud to relinquish the abodes of forebears and too wary of accepting public funds.

Tourism is a big part of the region's economy, and Hue's visitor numbers have slipped as those for Central Vietnam's other World Heritage site, the port of Hoi An—now a boutique-laden tourist zoo—have risen. With as many as 40 resorts planned along Danang's adjoining China Beach, Hue faces more challenges.

"World Heritage sites either adapt as living places or become tourist museums," says Urban Solutions head Mr. Schuttenbelt. His advice to Hue is to allow modern adaptations of its architecture while curbing overt commercialization, billboards and big hotels.

As for the Monuments Conservation Centre, its director, Phung Phu, has proposed expanding buffer zones meant to keep modern structures and signs from encroaching on monuments, tougher height limits and an effort to make Hue "a model eco city." He vows, "We must have new policies that meet the challenge of development." But no part of his next master plan has been approved.

More than any NGO or government initiative, the hope for Hue's old houses may lie with self-appointed saviors like the youthful Mr. Huy—who says he shares "a natural appreciation for gardens with all Hue people." (His mother fostered it by bringing him "architecture books for me to study while I was in prison.")

"It's ordinary people who are showing much greater care for these houses than five years ago," says the crusading ex-convict, adding, "there are not many left and we don't want the most precious part of our culture to vanish."

Trip Planner Getting There There are frequent inexpensive flights of just over one hour from Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City on Vietnam Airlines. The only international connection is currently to Danang Airport, two hours away by bus, from Singapore (via Siem Reap) on Silkair. It is possible to travel overland through Laos to Hue from Bangkok, a journey of at least two full days. A tourist visa is required for most nationals going to Vietnam. Where to stay All of Hue's better hotels are on the southern side of the river, across from the Citadel. What to do All visitors to Hue check out the Forbidden City and at least some of the seven royal tombs (which are outside town), but the city walls and canals are also worth exploring, and the crowded Old City showcases all the energy and contradictions of modernizing Vietnam is an exceedingly tranquil, innocent setting. Kim Long, a neighborhood just west of the city walls, is the best place to find nha vuon. Across the river, a stroll along the tree-lined riverfront features French mansions and the former school of Ho Chi Minh. What to eat Hue is famed for the vestiges of imperial cuisine and pancakes like the stuffed banh xeo and steamed bahn beo; another specialty is rice cooked with Perfume River mussels. Some genuine Hue restaurants, like the new Hoang Vien can be found in restored houses.

Secret of the rose

A vacation in the historic town of Hoi An in Vietnam’s central region is not complete without a foodie fiesta. Among the many mouthwatering delicacies dished out in the town is the elegantly named white rose.

Almost every restaurant in town now serves up its own white rose, but only one family holds the secret recipe that made the dish famous.

At 533 Hai Ba Trung Street, Tran Tuan Ngai is a third generation secret keeper of the traditional white rose recipe.

Ngai’s grandfather first created the light and fluffy dumplings for family dinners. They became so popular that he started selling the dumplings to his neighbors. When demand increased, he turned a part of his house into a bistro.

A French reporter traveling through Vietnam was so taken by beauty and flavors of the dumpling that he coined the name “Hoa hong trang” (white rose).

Since then, white rose, which actually is a plate with two different kinds of dumplings – banh bao and banh vac – has become an iconic part of the town’s culinary culture.

Ngai’s mother Trinh Thi Hue passed on the recipe to him. “We have the original recipe of the dough, minced filling and the dipping sauce,” he said. “It takes at least three years to become an expert at making the white rose.”

Making the white rose is not as easy as it looks.

Ngai cooks and grinds white rice from the Mekong Delta. He only uses the water drawn from the old Ba Le well, which is filtered and purified 15-20 times before being mixed with the rice paste to form airy dough.

Then, he rolls out the dough and cuts into small circles. He takes some filling - made of minced shrimp mixed with spices - places it in the center of each circle of dough, and deftly wraps it in the shape of a rose.

The unique dipping sauce is made of shrimp broth, hot chilies, lemon and sugar. A plate of steaming white rose cost about US$4.

A French tourist Karpiel Sebastien, 27, said that he had been eager to try the delicacy after seeing it in many guide books. Yet, nothing had prepared him for the burst of flavor in his mouth, and the intricacy of its preparation.

Ngai says his shop makes about two to three thousand dumplings everyday to serve at their café and also supply to restaurants and bistros in the town.

Source: Thanh Nien

Never too many irons in the fire

At 4 am when it is still dark and quiet, Denis Bissonnette gets up and begins work on his computer at home. 

“The quiet can help me work more efficiently,” say Denis. 

The silence is only broken by bird song, he says laughing, and when he chuckles his eyes laugh too.

The 50 year old man, who usually has a smile on his face, is known among friends as a project junkie. He is in his eighth year in Vietnam, where he has been working mainly on helping to build a sustainable tourism sector.

After having lectured while travelling extensively for the last 25 years in more than 40 countries, Denis finally chose Vietnam as a place for a long-term stay.

“Because Vietnam is really special,” is the answer Denis gives anyone who asks him why he loves the country so much.

“Even though I travelled throughout Vietnam many times, I still get excited encountering its sights, sounds and people.”

Denis first came here in 2002 with the World University Service of Canada, an NGO dedicated to improving the education in Vietnam. His initial work gave him the chance to start lecturing on tourism at Hanoi Open University. During the past few years he has specialized in sustainable tourism, including ecotourism and community-based tourism projects.

More than 700 students have graduated from his class and many have put their skills to good use.

“We appreciate his enthusiasm and love for the job and for Vietnam,” says Nguyen Van Thanh, deputy chief of the Faculty of Tourism at Hanoi Open University.

”We were touched when he volunteered to stay for a long time to help us in return for very modest pay, which is similar to what Vietnamese teachers earn.”

While lecturing, Denis continues to work on a series of projects. An early success included work in 2005 on founding the first national youth hostel association in Vietnam, with six hostels in Sa Pa, Hoi An, Cat Ba Island and Hanoi.

“Vietnam Hostels (VHI) helps travelers in Vietnam find safe, friendly and cheap hostels,” he says.

“It is an efficient means for young people to discover the culture and learn from each other.”

Shortly after his VHI work, Denis set up the I Love Vietnam Travel Co-op in Hà Nội, Sa Pa and on Cát Bà Island, in conjunction with Hà Nội Open University. The co-operative focuses on community-based tourism projects in the North-west of Vietnam.

It is not easy for Denis to remember all the projects he has worked on in Vietnam. He is also an English-training consultant at the Sofitel Plaza and Metropole Hotels, tour consultant for Exotissimo Travel and an advisor for the Vietnam Community-based Tourism Network. And when he has any free time he’s a freelance writer, tapping out articles on destinations across Vietnam.

But he says that he’s happiest with one project that wasn’t directly related to tourism.

“In some ways, the project that has brought me the most personal satisfaction has centred on distributing reading glasses to the needy in remote ethnic minority communities in the north-west.”

The Vision Vietnam project, which began in 2006 as a joint venture between Canada and Vietnam, was set up by Denis and give women from Quebec, Canada who put their heart and soul into the work.

“We were shocked to realise that very few people, especially within ethnic minority communities in the north, wore glasses,” say Denis.

“At that time, we had the pleasure to distribute over 100 glasses and sunglasses to the people of a small community to the North, the Red Thai.

“The joy and hope in their faces were clear. The glasses helped them see better. The older women could work again, for example, by sewing, and literate men and women could read again. Some could also begin driving in a safe manner and countless other daily tasks were made easier. Imagine one day, one minute, one week without corrective eyewear when you need it.”

However, Denis is the type that will never test on his laurels. Most of the time he’s trying to come up with a new project that may provide assistance where help is needed.

Promoting festivals

One part of the tourism sector that could do with a helping hand is promoting festivals.

“What a pity that foreign visitors don’t know about Vietnamese festivals,” says Denis.

“The Vietnamese Government doesn’t know yet how to best promote itself. It’s a big challenge. They don’t know what foreigners love in Vietnam, and therefore what’s good to promote.

“The destinations that are too famous like Ha Long Bay, and the image of the conical hat, buffalo, đàn bầu (a type of one-stringed musical instrument) do not need to be promoted anymore because everyone knows about them already.”

Denis says tourism promoters need to take a different approach.

“I think Vietnam should now promote Sa Pa, ethnic minority people, and places such as Hue, Nha Trang, Đa Lạt and Mui Ne.

He says promotions need to build a new image of Vietnam across the world, as many foreigners still associate the country with the devastating war with the United States. 

“My mother and many people abroad only know about Vietnam as a country of war.” 

But to lure travellers to Vietnam with the promise of a good time, the nation needs a professional tourism sector that won’t disappoint visitors when they arrive.

With that aim in mind, Denis is planning to open the first Tourism Hospitality Event Management Institute (THEM) in Vietnam, building on work that he’s already carried out through his three-month-old THEM consultancy group.

“Vietnamese students often lack management skills, it’s what holds them back when they apply for jobs at hotels after they graduate from university.

“Look at the hotels in Vietnam. All big managers come from big hotels in Germany, Canada, Hong Kong and Australia. Vietnamese people don’t have enough money to go for management training broad.

“I hope the new institute will be a pioneer in introducing an advanced model of training, creating an opportunity for all Vietnamese citizens to get access to vocational training and work in the tourism and hospitality service industry.”

The new institute, which Denis plans to open in eight months, is just one of the main projects he has on the boil. But despite the hectic lifestyle, Denis says he still finds time to enjoy life.

“Everyday is different here, there are no routines,” he says.

Source: Bach Lien (Travel Live)

Gateway to the past

With modern ‘villages’ popping up all over Vietnam’s major cities, Lan Hieu looks at the gated communities of times past.

 A newly built gate in Phu Thanh Chuong follows traditional design

 An old gate leading to famous ancient Duong Lam Village Son Tay Town, Hanoi

Modern life around an ancient gate

Village gates are found mostly in the cities and provinces lying along the Red River Delta region such as Bac Ninh, Hanoi, Nam Dinh, and Thai Binh. Before 1945, almost all villages in this region were surrounded by a bamboo hedge which separated their houses from the farm. The gate was a clear marker of this division.

At that time, a village was a closed community. In the morning, when the gate was open, villagers went out to markets, took buffalos to their farm. And when they all got home in the evening, the gate was closed. Security was thus kept for villagers.

A typical Vietnamese village must have two gates: a front gate and a back gate. The front gate was built southeastwards. Southeast is towards the rising sun and is considered a good direction. The front gate is for living people, for welcoming good things and distinguished guests. The back gate faced west, where the sun sets and is considered an infelicitous direction. That’s why the back gate opens to the village’s cemetery and was also the exit to drive away bad people and criminals.

Normally, village gates were built simply, and were the combination of the Chinese pagoda and temple architecture. They usually have one big door but some villages had two smaller doors flanking the main big door. Some gates were built with a big tiled roof and had a second floor for the village watchman.

Together with the special architecture, each village was decorated with some Chinese scripts or two parallel sentences. They all demonstrate the village customs and traditions or were the admonition to all villagers. For example, the script on the gate of Cao Lam Village in Hanoi reads: “Xuat mon huu cong”, translated as “anyone who leaves this gate must gain success”. This sentence has become an inspiration for many villagers and many have become successful in their career. Villagers in Ha Tri Village in Ha Dong District, Hanoi, focus on keeping and developing their good manners and customs, inspired by the sentence: “My tuc kha gia” carved on the village gate. Or in Te Qua Village, Hanoi, villagers dream of a favourable weather through four words “Phong Van bao ho”.

In the past, when Vietnamese villagers still lived in cottages with just a simple bamboo wattle for a gate, the big brick village gates were their pride. They played an important part in the life of the people here. The gates were the places for information exchange, for villagers to find more about the outside world and for strangers to learn about the village. It is also the place to welcome returning villagers, new brides and distinguished guests.

My village once also had a big gate but then it was demolished twenty years ago to make way for a big road. Many people, especially elderly people, regret its demolition.

“I will never forget the moment when they destroyed the gate,” my grandfather said with a sigh. “It seemed I’d lost my closest friend”. The gate had been there since he was born and he had lived in this village his whole life, so it is easy to understand his feelings.

This situation is also happening to many villages during the process of urbanisation. In many villages, people are trying to protect and upgrade the gates, recognising them as their precious heritage. “This is our duty,” confirmed Vu Duy Du, head of the board for preserving ancient buildings in Nam Doai Village in Ha Nam Province. “Our ancestors had built them, we must protect them as a way to respect our ancestors and educate our children”.

Hopefully, many old village gates will still live with us long into the future and our children can also have chance to admire these special cultural relics.

Source: Lan Hieu, dtinews

Legging it through Vietnam

I didn't mind that I missed queuing to see Ho Chi Minh in his mausoleum though I would have liked to have seen the palace he never lived in and the simple peasant homes he preferred.

 Bikes, scooters and cars battle it out on Hanoi's crowded streets. Photo / AP

Instead, I was sitting on the red and yellow vinyl couch, its exploding filling taped roughly over, in the foyer of our two-star hotel with my leg up, combining ice, compression and elevation with watching Brideshead Revisited subtitled in Vietnamese.

I failed to keep my date with Uncle Ho because I was hit by a car while crossing the street on the way to the mausoleum.

Until then, in three weeks in Vietnam on an Intrepid Explorer trip involving heaps of travel, I had witnessed only two accidents - a couple of motorbike collisions in Ho Chi Minh City.

I was aware that a major road safety campaign had managed to only slightly reduce Vietnam's usual road death tally of 1000 a month but I suppose I had become a bit blase about stepping into the chaotic traffic and expecting it to weave around me.

Silly mistake. When it was all over, I couldn't put any weight on my injured ankle.

The lady driver whose side mirror I'd bounced off was distraught. And Hoang, the leader of our Intrepid group, was devastated that he had not protected me.

But in a country with little refrigeration, ice always seems to be handy. A man on a motorbike appeared with some and wrapped it in a rag round my ankle. I was ferried back to the hotel sandwiched between this stranger and Hoang. Three on a bike is nothing in Vietnam.

Another huge block of ice appeared in reception - too big to wrap, too hard to break - so I just rested against it.

When the group returned after seeing Uncle Ho, the nurse and phys ed teacher had a feel and we decided it was a bad sprain. Best I could do was stay right where I was.

Later, one of three Oriental businessmen having an hour-long portrait session in the foyer urged me to see a Chinese doctor 200m down the road. I feigned lack of comprehension.

Then the pretty receptionist extricated herself from their insistence that she appear in every photo and enthusiastically suggested that I try a traditional Vietnamese remedy for swelling. The chef would like to apply it. Well, who says the West knows best.

I did get a bit of a shock when the sweet young man who had made our omelettes that morning appeared with a flaming bowl over which was a flat dish full of wide green steaming leaves. He took each one and carefully wrapped it round my ankle as hot as I could bear. This continued for half an hour, during which I learnt via our interpreter that though he looked 17 he was 27, had been married for a month and had used this poultice successfully on soccer injuries.

After that the receptionist kept a beady eye on me and any time I inched my leg towards the rapidly melting block she screeched: "No ice, no ice."

Sick of Vietnamese soap opera as the day progressed, I hopped to the lift up to our room for a sit-down shower, collapsing on the bed in my underwear after all the exertion. A timid knock on the door revealed my chef back for a repeat laying on of the leaves. Unfortunately, it still hurt.

That evening was the final dinner for our Intrepid group and, with departure so close, I was reluctant to get embroiled in the Vietnamese medical system.

For the dinner, Hoang, who was not much bigger than me, piggybacked me to his waiting motorbike, then up two flights of stairs at Koto ("know one teach one") Restaurant which, supported by Intrepid, equips disadvantaged young people for jobs in the hospitality industry. Coming back down after dinner was scarier and I was glad he didn't drink.

So that I could enjoy our final day in Hanoi we decided to take a taxi into the Old Quarter, known as the Venice of the East, with one of the highest population densities in the world. We would lunch at Little Hanoi, recommended by Lonely Planet, then take a scenic and shopping trip home by cyclo (a three-wheeled transport with a big seat in front of a bicycle).

The taxi dropped us at the wrong end of the street, so I hopped its length using parked motorbikes as support, only to find the restaurant was upstairs. Well, that's what bums are for.

After sharing local specialties, spring rolls and eggplant, I relaxed with a Tiger beer while my three travelling companions went for a walk and secured us some cyclos. We had quickly learnt that you always negotiate up front for any service in Vietnam and 70,000 dong (less than NZ$7 each) seemed good value.

My cyclo was wheeled across the pavement so I could barter for a jacket and a leather bag in a shop the size of a walk-in wardrobe. At the hotel, I was gently lifted out by yet another diminutive Vietnamese man.

The flights home were the next challenge. My friend Helen probably had an ulterior motive for offering to push me perched on the top of her luggage trolley. Serious shopping and the multiple garments she had bought in Hoi An meant she was over the 20kg limit while my luggage was still well under.

The minute the Malaysia Airlines check-in girls saw my predicament they frantically jabbered into the phone and jabbed at their computers. A handsome young man with a wheelchair appeared at my side to whisk me through Customs.

On the plane, invited into business class, I bounced like the Energiser bunny into privileged comfort. At the stopover, another wheelchair awaited. That was the pattern all the way home, though I got two seats rather than an upgrade on the haul to Auckland.

Back home, there was time for a shower before going for an x-ray. The ankle was broken and needed surgery. Still, it seemed no worse for having hopped around Hanoi.

CHECKLIST

Getting there: Most carriers fly in or link flights to Vietnam. We chose Malaysia Airlines because it was cheapest and service was excellent.

Getting around: Intrepid Travel offers a range of tours to suit a variety of budgets, physical and culture shock thresholds.

Further information: Vietnam's official tourism site is at vietnamtourism.com.

Source: Liz French, The New Zealand Herald

Rice fields reach up to touch the autumn sky

As autumn arrives, visitors marvel at the picturesque scene of the ripened terraced rice fields in northwestern Vietnam.

The beauty of these rice fields can be blurred by the white clouds and the wind.

Such dreamlike scenery can only be seen in the early morning or after a sudden rain falling on the terraced fields lying along the mountain ranges.

Sa Pa in Lao Cai Province, Hoang Su Phi in Ha Giang Province and Mu Cang Chai in Yen Bai Province are perhaps the three areas having the most beautiful terraced rice fields in Vietnam. They are also popular tourism sites for international tourists.

Below are beautiful pictures of the terraced rice fields:

Source: Pham Ngoc Bang, dtinews.vn