Hồ Tây - West Lake

After he had slain the monster fish Ngư Tinh, the Dragon Lord of Lac ventured to Long Biên, on the western bank of Sông Hồng, the Red River. There, he confronted another demon, a nine-tailed fox a thousand years old that had been devouring maidens by taking the form of a handsome man and enticing them into his lair. The dragon lord called upon a great deluge of water, assaulted the demon fox with the water, and vanquished it. In the wake of the battle, a vast swath of land along the Red River's western bank had been destroyed, and in its place was a lake.

It's the last week of August, and today is the first day of the eighth lunar month. This evening, people all over Hanoi are in the streets and burning offerings of wealth like hell money and paper representations of luxuries like gold, cars, new clothes, and even smartphones. The eighth month welcomes the season of the harvest. In fifteen days, the full moon with be large and luminous, and all over Asia people will admire its beauty, feast on mooncakes, light lanterns, and contemplate the change of season.

Throughout tonight, however, the moon will stay hidden below the horizon. And today the sun was still summer strong, and beat down on Mike and I as we took a walk around Hanoi's west lake. The walk was meditative. We felt the change of day like the turn of season. The journey took several hours. The sun meandered from its zenith and disappeared in the smoggy evening haze by the time we finally finished the entire circuit.

A lotus pond shack and little boats taken when collecting flowers and seed cups.

The journey was a laundry list of sights that ranged from offensive to inspirational. We walked with the lake on our right. The faint hot breeze carried the sick mucky stench of rot. In the lake, we saw a floating restaurant called the Potomac, sprawling acres of lotus ponds, bloated and bobbing corpses of countless fish, acrobatic dragonflies and bats, rowboats, an aquatic golf driving range, bubbles of gas that rose from the lake bottom, and ripples from schools of small fish.

Around the lake, trees lined the shore. In their shade, men fished with line wrapped around half-cans of baby formula and hauled catches of carp, crappies, and catfish. Old aunties and young children chattered and swung in green net hammocks, and ravaged-looking roosters crowed and shook their featherless heads. On our left, we passed foreign embassies, dilapidated French-colonial estates, empty upscale cafes, graffiti-covered walls, and several austere temples. Off in the distance, an enormous ferris wheel and about a dozen construction cranes loomed on the smoggy horizon.

Looking at it from far away, the lake was quite attractive. It was enormous and the still surface reflected the blue sky. But close up, the lake was a disturbing sight. The opaque green water seemed nearly putrid. Trash and litter floated everywhere. Pipe outlets dumped runoff and sludge into the water. My first glance at the lake revealed about two dozen dead fish rotting at the surface, all within a few yards of the shore.

However, the locals don't share my sensibilities regarding water quality. We saw many people fishing, by hook or by net, and keeping their catches. On the northwestern side, we saw someone swimming in the mucky green water. And toward the end of our journey, we watched a man wash his clothes in it. The people who use the lake don't seem to be fretful regarding its health.

As we walked, I realized I had seen other details that complicated my opinion of the lake's quality. During the day, I saw dozens of brilliantly colored dragonflies that darted across the surface and fought with each other midflight; to the victors went perches on semi-submerged sticks and the advantage of good breeding territory. In the evening, the dusky sky was full of bats that flitted overhead and stripped the air of gnats by the swarm. Animals like dragonflies and bats give a sense of an ecosystem's health. It seems the bats and dragonflies are in great abundance at Hanoi's west lake. I think I've seen fewer of them in what would be considered more "natural" areas.

Boatmen scoop golf balls from the net spanning the aquatic driving range.
Photo by Mike Cadette

I've started to rethink the way I look at environmental spaces within urban landscapes. My initial impression, that the lake is filthy and ecologically at risk, might not be right. Maybe the reason for so many dead fish is not pollution. So many dead fish could result from overpopulation due to an overabundance of food, perhaps extensive algae growth caused by nutrient-rich affluence from sewage. An abundance of fish would fit with the abundance of dragonflies and bats, which seem to be thriving here on the west lake. The success of these airborne species is bewildering, and a little bit heartening.

As Mike and I finished our lap, the sun vanished in the smoggy haze on the horizon. The air cooled, and the rotten stench, which had risen from the sun-warmed water during the day, had faded. As darkness fell, more and more people filled the shore, to spend their evening outdoors with friends, while in their homes, their televisions sat blank and idle. Vendors peddled icecream and balloons. Incense and the sound of bells emanated from glowing temples dispersed around the lake. And bats, more than one could count, cartwheeled and somersaulted through the air over Hồ Tây.

Tastes of Hanoi

There's only one thing on the menu at this iconic restaurant: it's grilled fish piled high with dill and green onion.

 
 

Phở could be considered to be Vietnam's flagship dish. North Vietnam's style of this beef noodle dish is simple and straightforward, with a few cuts of beef, a couple pinches of green onion and cilantro, and a big clump of fresh flat noodles.

 
 

Although we wouldn't know it in the states, but phở happens to be a versatile noodle. Here they are fried, as phở xào.

 
 

Another variant is called phở cuốn. It's a cold roll of beef and herbs, wrapped up in a noodle sheet and dipped in nước chấm.

 
 

If there's any Vietnamese food I'll miss most of all when we leave Hanoi, it's cốm, a dish of roasted young rice. Tender and nutty, cốm's green hue comes from the natural color of the immature rice. Unfortunately, it's a regional specialty. We can't even find it in Saigon.

 
 

Another reason the cốm has become a favorite: it makes a great ice cream.

Hồ Hoàn Kiếm - Lake of the Returned Sword

Hồ Hoàn Kiếm, also known as Hồ Gươm, or Sword Lake

 
A brief legend of history:

At this lake in Hanoi's historic center, the gods handed emperor Lê Lợi a sword that he wielded to expel the Chinese from Vietnam in the 15th century C.E. With sovereignty restored, Lê Lợi went back to the lake and returned the sword to the gods. There was a turtle involved.

Morning martial arts

In the present, the lake is a morning spectacle. Martial artists with swords and staves pantomime fights with invisible opponents, with complex choreographed steps. Old timers tip-toe at the water's edge, face the water, and slap their bodies with open palms from head to foot. Walkers and joggers make laps around the lake as the sunrise lights up the green water. People welcome the morning with exercise. Everywhere you look, they stretch, do pull-ups, hang from posts, wave their arms. Hardly any of them are younger than forty. Most of them are at or beyond the age of retirement. But growing old does not mean slowing down for them.

At night, the lake glows with blue, red, green, and yellow lanterns. The surrounding buildings are brilliantly lit as well. And the lake captures all the light, reflects it, and doubles the festive appearance. Around the lake, couples spoon on concrete benches, hawkers peddle fried dough, and bats flit in the lamplight for dinner on the wing.

Lake Hoàn Kiếm is lovely. It's not without a dark side. Foul street runoff, litter, and acid rain threatens to destroy the very symbol of Vietnam's independence. Giant softshell turtles that once thrived in the lake are now nearly extinct, despite attempts to breed them in captivity.

The pagoda on the lake's island is called Tortoise Tower. It's named for the god of legend--a turtle--that lent the emperor the sword that liberated Vietnam. It seems the turtle is an important figure to Vietnam's cultural identity, and it would be a shame if the species in this lake disappeared forever--not just for the turtle's sake, or for the balance of the lake's ecology, but for the pride of the Vietnamese. Today, the people who come down to the lake for their morning exercise or evening festivities seem to believe that turtles still paddle about in the green water. I hope they are always right.