-^-for posterity-^-

hanoi. some of the streets are wide and checked. some streets are tiny and wind endlessly. some of the people are more orderly, others do not follow the traffic patterns as in saigon. the place is a hard one to get a really good handle on. the people seem to walk around lost in their thoughts. they speak in short sentences that sound like the mating calls of bees. they sell things but they don't have the same mentality as they have in the south. while the economic reforms of the mid 1980's began in hanoi, they seem to have began in ho chi minh city first and then worked its way up north towards hanoi. things are not as developed as the south. this is the capital of vietnam and therefore has a completely different feel. for example, today we went to lenin park.

in the south, i don't think a lenin park would be well received. ho chi minh (the man, not the city) and other vietnamese patriots are loved all over vietnam , especially the south. however, some foreign leaders of communism are not as widely accepted. in fact, i know of no building or large statue dedicated to lenin or marx in the south. every once in a while, however, you do see a poster of the two of them at certain events.

in the north, on the other hand, communism has been here since 1954 (actually, the anniversary is the 10th of the 10th month in the lunar calendar, coming soon). they have a large tomb that was built to hold ho chi minh after the war with america was over. it is molded on the tomb that was built for lenin in the ussr. you can still walk through the tomb and see the preserved body of the leader of vietnam. i have yet to go there because it is only open in the morning and, for some reason, i have just been busy.

hanoi also has a number of lenin parks. all five mcc ex-pats went there this morning to have meetings, talk about the future and talk about what god was.

a taxi left us off at a large, marble looking arch. it was grey and stretched from one side of lined trees to the other. at its base, at the end of a long string, sat an old man with a blue shirt on. his arm band was red and gold and said 'security'. we had to pay to enter lenin park.

the park is entirely too large. it's wonderfully large and, because people have to pay to enter, not many people are there. it's a perfect break from the hustle and bustle of normal hanoi. it's a refuge where those with an extra two thousand dong can go and have some space to move about. there are wide passes lined with tall trees that had to have been there for hundreds of years. there is a large lake that meanders about with a small island in the middle. ancient trees grow on the island and their branches sweep entirely from one bank to the other making it impossible to actually see any part of the island, just the huge trees which hang to the water. there are small paths and games for children. we sat down and talked.

we talked a bit about god and how religion was the opiate of the masses. (whoops... wrong guy.)

we walked out through a different door. there were boats there and we were going to paddle around in large swans and other oddly shaped plastic ditties. then we saw it. they had three jet skis. i have no idea whose idea it was to have jet skis roaring around the lake in the middle of peaceful lenin park, but someone had gone to the trouble of allocating enough money to buy four of them.

there was something incredibly wrong about having jet skies there. maybe it was because they were yellow and purple. maybe it is because they said 'yamaha' and 'wave destruction iii' on them. maybe socialism and jet skis don't go together. something about it is incongruent.

we decided not to do any boating and left. as we were walking out the door, we noticed that there was a small, kiddy train track that seemed to stretch throughout the whole park. (the park is quite large) we asked if it worked and the people said yes. we went over to the train. it was yellow and orange and red and purple and, for some reason, looked like it belonged. maybe it was because the engine was full of large rocks to give it some weight. maybe it was because the front was missing a panel. maybe it was because the seats were simple wooden benches. maybe it was because it said 'respected goat' on the side of one of the cars. whatever the case, my pigeon brain decided it belonged.

we asked the group of workers if the train was running. it was 11 o'clock. they were playing chess and said it wasn't working. then one said it worked but we were resting. we left and the train in lenin's park stood idle. it still looked like it belonged, maybe now even more so.