From Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City and at countless other spots around the country, the people of Vietnam are increasingly looking to their past to create a more prosperous future.

By Gemma Price / Photography by Peter Steinhauer



Sitting streetside at a café overlooking Hanoi’s Hoan Kiem Lake (above),
you are surrounded by reminders of Vietnam’s French colonial past.

WITH ITS DISTINCTLY PARISIAN AMBIANCE, Vietnam’s capital is one of Asia’s most captivating cities. Sitting streetside at a café overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake, surrounded by lazy curls of cigarette smoke and the smell of freshly ground robusta, you have only the undulating tones of Vietnamese and the persistent motorbike horns to suggest this is anywhere but Europe. The scenery in this part of Hanoi evokes Vietnam’s French colonial past—rambling mansions flank broad, leafy boulevards and locals gather at coffee shops to chew over current affairs—but exploration along the meandering streets soon reveals a multifaceted cityscape of ancient temples, Chinese merchant townhouses, and crumbling traditional Vietnamese shop fronts.

The quaint lanes and narrow shops of the Old Quarter’s “36 streets” are one of Hanoi’s big draws, and since the first farmers and craftsmen brought wares from their villages to sell there 600 years ago, the lanes have evolved into a pageant of temples, meeting halls, and cluttered retail space. Street signs reveal what was traditionally sold along each thoroughfare: Hang Gai or “silk goods” street was stacked to the rafters with multicolored rolls of fabric, and traders along the aromatic Lang Ong street, named for an 18th-century physician, purveyed every kind of herb and spice. Many of those trades still linger. But pressures of increasing population, poverty, and the need to survive have left their mark on this urban tapestry. The slowly decaying structures are in urgent need of attention. The Old Quarter Management Board, established in 1990 with help from the people of Toulouse and aided today by the city of Brussels, has overseen the restoration of several pagodas, community halls, and narrow houses, although many more are on the waiting list.

		The New Face of Vietnam By Alicia Miller Corbett “A blend of old and new” is a well-worn phrase in travel writing, but I still can’t help thinking of it as I’m traveling in Vietnam. And the ancient-meets-modern idea here goes way beyond preserving architecture. It’s reflected in the faces around you: Understanding and preserving the old is, so often, how the Vietnamese people are creating the new. In Hanoi, my husband and I see it in our guide, Ha trafest.com. He’s a young man, but he knows so much about the past. A sense of national pride is in his voice as he describes the history of the Temple of Literature, built in 1070, that became Vietnam’s first university. He tells us the Vietnamese perspective on the war with the U.S., how the people, mostly farmers, fought for their country but had no clear idea of the politics behind the conflict. But, he says, nearly 70 percent of the country’s population was born after the war. Vietnam is looking to the future, as is Ha himself. He describes how his life is different from his parents’, how people are changing along with or in spite of the government. He has big plans for his tourism business and the Web site he’s building. In Ho Chi Minh City, we see it in Lien, a young woman working in Hanoi Gallery (43 Le Loi Street, District 1), a propaganda poster shop. After she translates and tells the history of the original and reproduction works around her (“The national empires and reaction should not unwise touch this country” and “Vietnam wins all conquering”), we continue to talk. She’s interested in the U.S., describes her Western boyfriend, how she relies on e-mail and international cell phone plans, her thoughts on marriage, kids, her hopes for the future. We leave with a roll of old posters and a feel for how the country is changing. Of course, the blending of old and new isn’t always smooth. Sometimes traditional and outside influences collide with a jolt. In Nha Trang, we take a cable-car ride across the bay to the still-newish Vinpearl Amusement Park. We meet a fashionable young Vietnamese couple on the ride and compare digital cameras as we take photos for each other. When I ask if they’ve been to the park before, they say no, that it’s expensive: “Most locals can’t afford to go there. It costs a huge portion of their wages.” The theme park itself is a bit surreal—someone’s exaggerated happy childhood vision of strange animal statues interspersed with amusement rides, surrounded by construction pits on other parts of the resort. And it’s nearly deserted, except for a few German visitors and Vietnamese employees. We try to ignore the Western music blaring over loudspeakers and start exploring. But suddenly, we’re paying attention: We’re watching some local workers in traditional clothing and conical hats laboring away on the landscaping when a very rated-R Eminem song begins to issue at top volume from the speakers, complete with retching sound effects and explicit lyrics about the gastrointestinal disturbances inspired by thoughts of a former girlfriend. My husband and I peer nervously around to see if children are being traumatized by four-letter words as they climb on monkey statues. But there aren’t any children. And the workers, who don’t speak English, don’t even look up from their pruning. I imagine the scene where someone with a keen interest in attracting tourism created the park’s soundtrack, thinking, hey, Western children must want to hear Western music, right? And I can’t stop watching the workers, who might be in the rice paddies but instead are landscaping an amusement park, since tourism, not agriculture, is likely the key to their future. Restoring his equilibrium, my husband shrugs and heads off to the water slide. As the song wraps into its final gagging chorus, I wander toward the edge of the park to a lovely strip of beach. I look out across the sparkling bay and wade in, submerging my ears to float peacefully in the South China Sea.

While ancestor worship and the preservation of heritage and tradition have always been at the heart of Vietnamese culture, finding funds for conservation is a major challenge. Many Asian cities are struggling to preserve their heritage in the face of rapid development. But in Vietnam, which has an annual per capita income of around US$800, many cultural relics have been lost not to developers’ bulldozers but because the money to restore or renovate simply wasn’t there. Yet in recent years, tourism has provided another, more lucrative reason to revive the country’s unique history, as well as providing the means to do it. In the first half of 2008, the total number of travelers to Vietnam exceeded 2.2 million—the most ever within a six-month time frame, according to Vietnam National Administration of Tourism (VNAT) statistics—and that figure increases month-on-month.

Overseas money, whether from privately funded projects or tourism revenue, is playing a huge role in preserving Vietnam’s heritage. At the grassroots level, many locals rely on global visitors for their income, even preserving traditional ways of life against the march of modernization to attract the tourist dollar. For the hill tribes that call Sapa’s mountainsides home, international visitors equal big business. Alongside the traditional farming of rice and cardamom, the tribeswomen now turn a tidy profit selling their silver jewelry and hand-woven textiles, ensuring that more youngsters stay in the village rather than head for the opportunities of the big city.

Three hours east of Hanoi, Halong Bay is another destination that’s benefiting from visitor traffic. Listed as a World Heritage Site in 1994, the bay’s 1,600 islands form a spectacular seascape of limestone pillars. Sightseeing cruises around the Halong Bay archipelago were operated by local shipping companies as far back as the turn of the 19th century. Today many of the tours have adopted a retro feel. Orange sails of Chinese junks cast against rugged limestone karsts evoke the nostalgia of former trading frontiers. The design of the upscale French paddle steamer Emeraude—from its fin de siècle architecture to its brass nautical fittings and high-backed wicker chairs— transports passengers back to colonial times (Tel: 84-4-3934-0888 or emeraudecruises. com). Halong is one of Vietnam’s biggest attractions, and local authorities are campaigning hard for the bay to be voted one of the World’s New 7 Wonders, to be declared in 2010. At press time, Halong held the No. 2 spot on the Web site’s live ranking. But, as ever, with increasing tourism fueled in large part by nostalgia for the past, the area and its traditions face new threats: At its 31st session in New Zealand last year, the World Heritage Committee stressed the growing need to address urban, industrial, and tourism development pressures threatening the bay, now that more than 1,000 boats sail its emerald waters daily.

The citadel, pagodas, palaces, and tombs of Vietnam’s picturesque former feudal capital, Hue, also are included on UNESCO’s list of 130 World Heritage Sites encountering critical preservation issues. When the Vietnam War ended in 1975 with north and south unified under the communist regime, the city was barely standing. Entire neighborhoods were leveled by fighting, and of 1,200 monuments built under the Nguyen dynasty between 1802 and 1945, only 300 remain.

Revenue from entrance fees, coupled with UNESCO-managed funding and donations from the Vietnamese government, is providing money for restoration. Some projects, like Tu Duc tomb, with its spectacular lotus bloom–filled ponds, have been completed, but others are still works in progress. At Thieu Tri tomb, beyond the broken, leaf-shrouded stone steps, shirtless men are hard at work. Fortunately, despite the repairs to be done, this particular monument is largely intact—although the brickwork is in disrepair, the stone administrative and military mandarins that guard the tomb (they represent service and protection in the afterlife) still stand, impassively lining the approach to the building.

It wasn’t just Hue’s ancient architecture that was nearly lost in the upheavals of the last century. In 2003, nha nhac (Vietnamese court music) was added to the World Heritage List for intangible culture, and UNESCO approved a safeguarding project in 2005 to support the apprenticeship of young musicians in court music, costume, and traditional performance. This initiative came none too soon—two of the former masters who are now key advisors, Lu Huu Thi (age 94) and Tran Kich (86), are among the last with first-hand knowledge of the art. The first group of students graduated last June, and UNESCO’s budget of US$154,900, along with $190,000 donated by the Vietnamese government and revenue from visitor ticket sales, will ensure that the ancient arts of the royal court can be taught to many more.

In recent years, Vietnam has honed its luxury travel edge, and many of its upscale properties have been inspired by the past. Hue’s La Residence, one of the country’s top luxury boutique hotels, is set within the former home of the French colonial governor, a magnificently restored art deco mansion (Tel: 84-54- 3837-475 or la-residence-hue.com). On a pristine stretch of China Beach in nearby Danang, the decadent Nam Hai property has reinvented traditional Vietnamese architecture, drawing on principles of phong thuy (Vietnamese feng shui) to marry tradition with ultra-modern touches. Two-tiered roofs evoke the Hue homes of the Nguyen emperors, and traditional crafts like eggshell lacquer, notoriously difficult to produce, have been incorporated throughout. Managed by luxury resort operator GHM, the Nam Hai has been called one of the bestdesigned resorts in the world, and as you’d expect, a night luxuriating in a setting as opulent as this comes with a hefty price tag—peak season rates hover around US$1,000 (Tel: 84-510-3-940-000 or ghmluxuryhotels.com/NamHai.htm).

Slightly more humble lodgings can be found in the ancient town from which the Nam Hai draws much of its inspiration: 150 kilometers (around 90 miles) to the south, Hoi An joined the World Heritage List in 1999 as a well-preserved example of a Southeast Asian trading port of the 15th to 19th centuries. Many of the buildings erected by rich merchant families during its heyday still stand. But in recent years, flooding has tragically affected the area. In November 2007, Hoi An’s Mayor Le Van Giang was distraught after 300 houses were submerged. “These old houses are the soul of Hoi An,” he told local reporters. “If they are ruined, Hoi An will not be Hoi An anymore.”

Once the tide receded, the damage was largely repairable. Over the centuries the buildings have managed to weather the annual downpours, and locals have developed the habit of moving their house and shop contents to upper floors. To visitors walking around the charcoalcolored stone and creamy yellow walls, it seems that local traditions have continued while adapting to the times. Lantern makers ply their wares from workshops strewn with fragments of silks, and tailors continue to create bespoke clothing for tourists eager to indulge in a handmade suit or couture dress copy for a snip of a Western price tag.

Just offshore, the Cham Islands offer some of Vietnam’s most celebrated diving, but as with most coastal areas, years of dynamite-fishing have taken their toll, and many of the big pelagic creatures, such as sharks and manta rays, are conspicuously absent. In an attempt to save what remains of Vietnam’s aquatic life, the government has reduced fishing quotas across much of the coastline, with initiatives springing up to help locals turn to tourism to make a living. In Muine, fishing families are learning to kite- and windsurf, and a recent initiative on Con Dao island involves training future Olympic hopefuls to sail. Once known as Poulo Condore, this archipelago located 200 kilometers (about 125 miles) from Ho Chi Minh City was the site of the infamous 19th-century French Con Son prison complex. Now the sun-drenched deserted beaches, pristine coral in crystalclear waters, and lush tropical forest of the islands are protected as a national park. And with recent land acquisitions by Indochina Capital and construction on a luxury Evason Six Senses resort already under way, Con Dao is likely to become one of Vietnam’s hottest destinations.

There are also big plans for Phu Quoc island, just off Vietnam’s southernmost tip. A golf course, a monstrous casino, and several high-end resorts are all in the offing, although construction has been put on hold until the tiny airport is enlarged to serve international flights. For now, at least, accommodations here have a markedly upscale yet historical feel. The feudal era–inspired Long Beach Ancient Village blends ancient architectural style and luxurious modern touches to create the ultimate island hideaway. A stone’s throw down the beach, La Veranda resurrects colonial seaside mansion style in a brand-new luxury boutique resort composed of villas scattered throughout well-clipped tropical gardens (Tel: 84-77- 3982-988 or laverandaresort.com).

In Ho Chi Minh City, as in other urban areas of the world, rehabilitating existing structures has taken a back seat to growth. High land prices and extensive real estate development mean that old buildings are being pulled down all over. But even in the bustling commercial hub, there is a sense that preserving the past can be good for the city’s future. Several attractions are perfectly preserved. At the Reunification Palace, everything is frozen exactly as it was when Vietnam fell in April 1975—even the tanks that stormed the gates have been enshrined in the entryway. At the War Remnants Museum, survivors of the Vietnam War tell their stories amid harrowing photographs and retired war machines. The pinkish walls of the Notre Dame cathedral provide a picture-perfect backdrop for tourists and just-wed couples. And along the broad boulevards of Dong Khoi and Le Loi, the city’s most chic continental address and home to the opulent colonialera Opera House, high-end fashion brands like Louis Vuitton and Gucci rub shoulders with family-run shops selling traditional handicrafts.

The country generally is abuzz with development and economic progress, but traditional values and a deep-seated sense of national pride mean that even the most impoverished people place a high value on protecting and honoring their heritage. And developers are increasingly finding inspiration in their setting to work with the past rather than obliterate it and rebuild. With growing numbers of visitors keen to explore the country’s cultural gems, Vietnam’s future as a tourism destination is undoubtedly bound to its past.

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