FADED COLONIAL LIFE OF VIENTIANE

Presidential Palace of Laos in downtown Vientiane

I stand at the gate of the Presidential Palace. A grand, classic French dominion painted grey and white, this is one of the few colonial buildings in Vientiane that is well preserved. Appearing as though it was transported directly from the French countryside, the colonial governor used to reside in this mansion of stone.

What may be the largest Laotian flag in the whole country, flies from a flagpole out front. Curiously, the Laotian flag is not your usual communist flag. Blue and red with a large white circle, it more closely resembles the flag of Thailand.

From what I can see there is little activity inside. In fact, looking around I don’t see a single soul. There’s not even a security guard around. I’d love a tour, but the palace isn’t open to the public. Sadly, the grand edifice is only used for occasional government functions and ceremonies, so I depart down the street to further acquaint myself with Vientiane.

One of the quietest capitals in all of Asia, Vientiane has a sleepy feel to it, as though it is still waking up after a

Buddhist monks pass a deteriorating old French colonial house

decades long nap. With a population of less than a quarter million, it’s far less crowded than Hanoi, or Bangkok to the west.

“I like Laos more than Thailand,” I heard from Tony, a retired English soldier who works on mobile phone towers in Laos. “It’s quieter here. Life is better.” For most of the small expat community that lives here, the slower pace of life here is their preference.

As I walk around Vientiane, a capital void of skyscrapers, it resembles a town, not a big city. There isn’t much garbage lying in the streets either. Like the rest of Southeast Asia, the crime rate here is fairly low, and violence is rare. When there is a murder once in a blue moon, it’s usually connected to drug trafficking.

A pair of monks pass me by in their bright orange robes, a common sight in the downtown. Buddhism in Laos is even stronger here than it is in Vietnam, and there are many Buddhist monasteries in this part of town. A few blocks on, I reach a legacy of the French; old

Dilapidated French colonial house; few are well preserved

mansions with French architecture. Vientiane is actually a French word, their own pronunciation of the Lao name for the city, “Vieng Chan”, which means “city of sandalwood”.

Passing once luxurious homes, the glory years of these deteriorating buildings are long gone. French colonists who inhabited them left in 1953 when Laos regained its independence. These high ceiling mansions were once the envy of Laos, homes to French officials living the quiet life. Vientiane was a  backwater in those days, as Laos was one of the most isolated, least desired outposts in the French empire. For today’s foreign diplomatic corps, not much has changed.

Some of the original French colonial structures I’m passing are now government buildings, and they obviously need of a coat of paint. Although some chateaus have been fairly well preserved, most are not, and look dilapidated. I pass one with an exterior wall so deteriorated, that large sections of plaster have fallen away, exposing bare brick underneath.

Unoccupied riverfront home is overgrown with weeds

When the French left these homes, they were replaced by the Laotian elite, but by the late 1970’s the upper class had gone as well. Members of the ruling elite were either sent to prison, or had fled the country due to the rise of the Pathet Lao. Most houses were taken over by the communists and their families. As the economy took a dive in the late 70’s and 80’s nobody had the money to repair these once opulent homes, so these beautiful old buildings simply fell apart. The destruction of Vientiane’s beautiful old colonial buildings didn’t happen from the war, it was caused by age and a lack of maintenance. Passing more old mansions and chateaus with closed French shutters, I find a group fenced off. These are completely unoccupied, with grass and weeds growing out of control. I wonder if these are in line for renovation, but its more likely that they will be torn down to make way for new construction. It’s sad but true, that much of Vientiane’s rich heritage is falling to the wrecking ball.

Unlike Hanoi or Saigon, Vientiane’s old colonial buildings didn’t face much destruction due to the war years, except for one battle after a 1960 coup. As different factions took sides in the cold war, forces led by an army centrist,Colonel Kong Le, seized power to keep Laos neutral. When soldiers loyal

Old USSR built building is nearly vacant

to the previous government moved to retake Vientiane, fighting left 600 people dead, and some areas of the city were in ruins. That would be the last major battle in Vientiane, until the present day.

As I walk through Vientiane’s neighborhoods, there are few reminders of those decades past. I do see a couple of US military style jeeps driving around town, but they aren’t original. These olive green copies weren’t built in the US, they’re counterfeits!

There are some folks here learning English, but it’s not as widely spoken as in Vietnam. I saw one Laotian woman walking down the street wearing a tee shirt that said, “Just two women away from a threesome.” Obviously she didn’t know what that meant.

Traffic in Vientiane is a welcome change from other capitals of Southeast Asia. It’s light, rarely crowded, even for rush hour. Most Laotians in town travel on motorbikes, or crowd into a bus or truck. Annoying tourist buses are few. Very common are tuk-tuks; open air vehicles that look half motorbike, half golf cart. 

Along with the slow pace of traffic in the city, commerce here is relatively quiet. There are many cafés, restaurants and hotels downtown, but advertising is muted. Vientiane is the economic center of Laos, but big business is not very visible. There is no rising skyline, and few large billboards. The advertising I see most often, is for the most popular drink: Beer Lao.

For a one party communist government, I’m surprised at the small number of government billboards in town. I suppose that when the government returned to capitalism, they decided hard line communist propaganda wasn’t the way to go anymore. Their public presence is low

Old communist flag, hanging near a Buddhist shrine??!!

key, even the police are less visible. Still, everyone knows the communist party are the real people in charge in Laos. 

Passing through Nam Phu, a downtown fountain plaza, I look up at a gloomy, brown and white building that looks like something out of hard times Russia. One of the larger buildings in the downtown, this boxy structure looks totally out of place, mostly abandoned. An Aussie expat told me that this seven story monstrosity was built with aid from the former Soviet Union. 

“It used to have a communist logo sticking out from the roof,” said Robin, a restaurant owner, “but that’s gone now.” Office buildings built during the Soviet era were never really known for their quality, or their aesthetic value.

Away from the government ministries, there are few visible reminders of the lean days of communism, but I spot one as I head towards the river. Walking by a row house, I see a red flag marked with the hammer and sickle hanging over a balcony railing above. Also on the same balcony, is a small Buddhist shrine. I suppose the resident here felt the need to pay homage to both. Such contradictory symbols, but that’s how Vientiane’s residents survive.

HO CHI MINH'S HOUSE

Hanoi's humble Ho Chi Minh house

I'm in downtown Hanoi, and I enter what looks like a neighborhood park. Walking round a scenic, tree lined pond, I enter a small elevated house. It’s just a simple green home with few rooms, built on top of wooden stilts. This seems like a scene that I would see out in the Vietnamese countryside, not in the downtown's capital.

This humble little dwelling, was the house of Ho Chi Minh. 

Ho's conference room. Did he use the phones in the back to call Kruschev in the USSR, and Mao in China?

The official government brochure says this is: “The house-on-stilts where Ho Chi Minh lived and worked from May of 1958 to August of 1969.” But I doubt Ho lived here all that time, especially during the war years when Hanoi endured heavy American bombing from the air. Made only of wood, this stilt house could have easily been destroyed by the US Air Force, if they had so desired. I suspect that Ho slept and hid elsewhere during Hanoi’s frequent air raids.

Among the stilts underneath the house, tables and chairs remain from Ho’s official meetings. Three old style rotary telephones here were used to report to him on the war’s progress. Did Ho use these old phones to speak with Mao Tse Tung in Beijing, or with Leonid Brezhnev in Moscow? Who could have predicted then, that only a few decades after these three old powerful communists were dead, that global communism would be dead too.

Upstairs is a simple office, and a small bedroom. The official brochure goes on to say that Ho’s home on stilts, “symbolizes his living way of simplicity, modesty, gentleness and dedication for the nation and the people.” A more accurate description would be to say that as the top communist in a mostly agrarian country, Ho wanted to always look like he was just another everyday guy.

With this stilt house so humble and basic, I wonder if Ho spent much time in the mansion nearby. Through the trees on these same grounds, is a grand yellow colonial building, that used to be the former Palace of Indochina's General Governor.  It’s also empty now, except for occasional official functions. Now known as the Presidential Palace, even the current President doesn’t live there.

Ho's home office

Nguyen Minh Triet, a recent Vietnam President until 2011, was the first post-war president to hail from southern Vietnam. Since Ho’s death Vietnam’s top government posts have been mainly held by northerners, although that's been slowly changing. Nguyen also became the first Vietnamese President since the war ended to visit the USA, meeting President George Bush at the White House in 2007. This changing of the guard, has brought a change and improvement in diplomatic relations with Hanoi's former enemy.

These days, Ho’s dreams of equality for the working class are gone, and he probably wouldn’t approve of Vietnam’s return to what he regarded as decadent capitalism. He didn’t live to see his dream of a reunited Vietnam, but Ho would be pleased that there are no longer foreign soldiers on Vietnamese soil. 

He may be forever hated by many French and Americans, but he will be forever loved here in Hanoi.

OLD TOWN HANOI STROLL

Lady fruit sellers wait for customers in Old Town Hanoi

As morning comes in Hanoi, I am rudely awakened at 5 a.m. by a government loudspeaker. It's blaring out their daily propaganda wakeup message. Unfortunately for me, the speaker happens to be located right outside my hotel window. I groan, cover my ears, and try to go back to sleep. I later go down to reception, and switch my room to the back of the hotel so I can be further away from the morning noise. But now I have the opposite problem, the hotel’s back rooms have no windows at all! It’s more of a cave really, it's certainly a fire hazard. Well, at least it’s quiet.

After finding some croissants in a nearby café, I head out for a walk around the city’s old quarter. Hanoi is a city that's 1,000 years old. Although this ancient commercial neighborhood is limited by narrow streets, the business scene here is really bustling. Asian style shophouses are packed tightly together, selling all manner of local and imported goods. Everyone I see in the old town is busy browsing, buying, or trying to make a sale. Street vendors in conical hats sell fresh fruit, while the ever present motorbikes buzz on by.

French colonial architecture in Old Town

Old archway entrance in Hanoi

Crossing many streets in the packed borough, I learn that each road in this area has a product specialty. One street has numerous silk shops, another street is packed with shoe stores, and still another is packed with hair accessories. It seems a counterproductive arrangement for shopkeepers to have their competition all on the same street, but it works in Hanoi, as it has here for centuries.

The Presidential Palace, former home of the French colonial governor.

Following the free market reforms of their Chinese neighbors to the north, capitalism has taken hold in this capital city. But even though this city is Vietnam’s second largest, I notice the pace is different. Looking around the shops, it’s not as noisy and hectic here, as it is in Saigon/HCMC. As compared to the hardworking, dollar chasing southerners, business in the north is conducted in a more restrained fashion. Hanoi has always been more reserved than Saigon, and they endured communist controlled markets far longer than in the south did. As things are now, Saigon may be the center of finance, but Hanoi is still the center of political power.

As I leave the old quarter and explore other areas of the downtown, I find that many of the old French colonial buildings still survive. Close to Hoan Kiem Lake, there are the majestic Opera House, many old restaurants and lovely French villas. Some government offices in Hanoi still work out of old yellow colonial buildings from the French era. The Presidential Palace is immaculate, and

Italian restaurant in Old Town. International eateries are becoming more popular.

looks as though the French governor has just walked out the door. There are far more examples of colonial architecture remaining here, than there are in Saigon, and even pre-colonial Chinese style homes can still be found. This isn’t what I was expecting at all, I'm pleasantly surprised.

Since Hanoi had been bombed so many times during the war with the US, I was imagining that the old city must have been reduced to rubble back then, like Berlin during World War II. I was expecting to find blase communist blocks; I’m surprised to see that so many of Hanoi's old historic buildings have survived. These lovely old neighborhoods give Hanoi a romantic air, a sense of history that is hard to find elsewhere in Vietnam.