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Return to Vietnam, others cried and why not me!

Sunday 20 April 2008 by Asietralala

_ Return to Vietnam, others cried and why not me!
((Others cried ... And me, and I, and why not me? ))

`I am familiar with Thailand, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, China… I always avoided visiting Vietnam where I come from… you say strange? Today I go, I m’envole there at the gates of my life and my dreams. A sudden decision in search of a troubled past memories often result auréolés fears, joys and dreams.
I have finally set foot on this land steeped in the sun. No emotion, just one of scenery under a heavy mantle heat resonates with the brouhaha harbinger of a city in perpetual motion. Taxis racoleurs, camelots insistent and intense life that remind us that Europe is dying of boredom over 12000 kms. Saigon opens their arms as a mother and me in the urban anthill ready to grab the unwary. In the delirium of bicycles, mopeds, I walk quietly and I am not afraid. Weird feeling to know and learn without ever crossing the border of reality and dream. Road safety and accident prevention in this jumble of cars, pedestrians, dust and horns stridents be on the verge of apoplexy. A real life awaits me here ever since.

I was given an appointment with a friend, from Bangkok and a cousin who arrived from Paris, in this hotel the legendary Majestic. Being here at vîetnam sets is truly a magic moment tinged with deep emotion. Accompanied by exotic fragrances and fragrance oil gas I begin the visit of this noisy city where life reigns supreme absolute. Part of the family of my fiancee, 100% French, lived in Indochina. Today she is delighted to be part of this return to its roots. I have all the physical characteristics of a true Asian and yet she has never seen it as such. It m’avoua thereafter have no attraction to the male to Slants… They are strange perceptions; through this particularity of love j’avoue avoir very lucky!
Let’s go back to our ducks lacquered… oh pardon our sheep. Let us continue our little stroll. Yes I am, I am here incredible in the middle of the city of Saigon my parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts… The cathedral stands in front of me like a cave of Ali Baba. In rare moments, my parents became smaller in France officials, I spoke with a touch of pride in her voice, of this family which I had become an obscure downdraft. A family with significant powers, the immense fortune who had also nearly 30000 hectares of rice paddies… How were we come to this? I felt discomfort in them to be what they are today, people are simple and transparent. They s’excusaient that it is no longer. Everything is glorious past luxury, pomp, I thought there by need, I also caught the symptoms of the disease shameful so-called…. The means of my ancestors were unlimited, and they did not hesitate to offer gifts to the cult sumptuous… it that was said! All of this was perhaps qu’affabulations and fantasies! My fiancee suddenly takes me his arm and shows me a beautiful stained glass window on which is inscribed my name. Stupéfaction, everything is true, no talk of nothing but happiness to exist. It confirms to me afterwards that the big drone had been offered by my grandfather. I never really felt the magnitude of my dismay today.
Known smells mixed with strange sensations intoxicating perfume m’emportent reassuring in a world conquered land. I live as a "rich" from trendy restaurants in dens "bobos" never count, the highest score ever reaching a record of 5 euros. I am a nabab. But what arouses my senses, excite the highest point is without doubt the syrup on the street in perpetual motion dressed in white silk, conical hats, smiles childish, piercing screams and vrombissements omnipresent. The hell of noise with open arms, but a hell so desired, so often wished! The city of Saigon is a city well south it is noisy and full of surprises. But I find that it lacks an architectural unity which disappoints me somewhat.
Take the train at night, even in soft berth remains an adventure to live with relish. Nga Trang and golden beaches m’accueillent with sweetness and wonder. This postcard tells me the most beautiful colonial times full of beautiful women with endless legs and the ubiquitous cigarette smoke. Next destination _ Hue, the capital Imperial nestled in the meanders of the River of Perfumes
This time I go with a guide and friend Vietnamese… We rent a mini air-conditioned buses and hop towards central Vietnam. Coasts and even the coast, the sea and its waves friendly accompany us throughout the voyage.La seas to the east of this wonderful country a border of almost 1500 kms. Hue leaves me fond memories and an imperishable full serenity captured by time. We must take the time to wander through its markets quiet visit the imperial city, or even let slip gently in a little junk on the river "perfumes" in search of countless temples.
Never satisfied by the many findings, I decided to climb even higher northwards towards the capital Hanoi. This time though because with the locals pleased to be able to gauge a tourist on its ability to withstand a long journey in a vehicle with little comfort. Laughter and jokes incomprehensible goguenards promises surprises galore our restless night.
Arrive at 6 am in the head and stomach… in heels. A tonkinoise soup (pho) on the curb and immediately the charm of Hanoi takes me. Old colonial city remained empty of any construction intempestive it retains the stamp and this character so special that tells a true story. My mind wanders and takes the game back to the past if tinged with sweetness and charm. Each district is the image of a corporation which combines various trades that appear to us, we in Europe if sanitized, almost obsolete but if endearing. Small bars moist heat despite old fan souffreteux, shops crowded merchandise imbalance, restaurants apocalyptic the huge pots bubbling… is that we Hanoi receives without pomp. Everything in this city is full of life and envy.
En route to the Bay of Along cortége and its interminable and alarming ventripotents tourists. Nothing else to say a little disappointment and mixed feelings. I am pursuing my way to hoï han small port with undeniable charm and colorful architecture. The gold, black and red have made this town a must for all lovers of the authenticity of vietnam.
It will be necessary to go back to Saigon and then sadly to Paris the City of Light. I feel strange that Europe is, after this deluge of vivacity, which became a "no man’s land" in the colours of boredom.
I thought the tears were in the meeting, that emotion as an arrow delicious me transpercerait the heart jusqu’atteindre deepest fibers of my, well nothing! I have, since those days of fullness tourism, often reworked to this feeling strange and unanswered questions have given way to imcompréhension. Am become insensitive to this beautiful country, or simply did not realise the meaning of this trip. I will go back there and now I will prepare.
_ Henri Victor)


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