Building Hoang Lien Son to be more developed in industry, agriculture, silviculture

And then there's 'Vietnam is long live, Ho Chi Minh'll live forever', Or how about just 'The most beautiful popularity?'

I was very taken by the posters in the Pham Manh gallery (Propaganda poster & painting). I wanted them all, but there were thousands, so these three will have to do.

Uncle Ho probably will live forever, by the way. His body is currently in Russia, having renovations done before being returned to his mausoleum in Hanoi, but his presence is ubiquitous still. He's inside and outside government buildings, inside houses, has whole shops selling just his picture, and his advice possibly features still in the daily 7:30am propaganda broadcasts from the loudspeakers dotted around the streets.

'Remember, the storm is a good opportunity for the pine and the cypress to show their strength and their stability. And when the prison doors are opened, the real dragon will fly out.'

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The little bridge that could

Long Bien bridge is actually not so little - it's 2.5 km long and spans the Red River, and for a long time was the only bridge linking Hanoi with points north and east (including the port of Haiphong).

During the 'American War' it was frequently damaged in bombing raids, only to be quickly repaired each time by the Vietnamese. They seem to be that sort of a people - industrious, motivated, and organised. The defence of the bridge is much celebrated in poetry and song, and today it is decked out with appropriately heroic golden decorations.

As for the war, that's just ancient history to them. They're much more interested in the present and the future. Few people are said to harbour any grudges against those countries, including Australia, that waged that particular unwinnable, interminable, stupid war, and that so dominated my formative years.

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Hill station heaven

When a typhoon off the coast caused our Halong Bay boat trip to be cancelled, we headed for the hills instead, taking the overnight Orient Express to Lao Cai, on the Chinese border, and then the scary bus up to the town of Sapa.

There we spent a magical two days, being guided around local villages by our excellent young guide, Pet. Pet is a member of the Red Dzau minority group. She gave us a good grounding on the lifestyle, crafts, and culture of the various Dzau and H'mong peoples who inhabit much of the rural areas here, in other parts of south east Asia, and indeed just over the border in China.

We saw how they farmed and fed themselves, how they spun and wove the hemp for their traditional clothes, how they harvested the indigo leaves and boiled them up to dye them blue, how they cooked up the pigswill even. We saw their schools, their houses, and we got to meet Pet's mum, sister, and baby son.

And I couldn't stop taking pictures. Of the colourful people, the misty mountains, and the magnificent rice terraces, which provided a beautiful new photographic opportunity at every step.

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At home in Hanoi

In Hanoi we had the privilege of staying with some old friends of mine, Susila and Allaster. I first met them when we were working together in Indonesia in 1992.

Susila and I relived some of our shopaholic sisterhood experiences by visiting a few choice shops including a tailoring shop to purchase something special for a night at the opera.

When we weren't shopping we were able to sample a luxurious expat lifestyle - lounging by the pool and having a leisurely lunch at a rather fine Jamie Oliver style cafe. It was run by former street kids turned chefs, courtesy of a Vietnamese Australian who returned to the land of his birth and created this enterprise.

While it was great re-living the expat life, I have to say that after 10 years of moving around with the Dept of Foreign Affairs, I find it nice being settled in Sydney these days.

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Twisting by the lake

Hoan Kiem Lake, roughly translated, means 'Uncle Ho's favourite place for gentle exercise'. To that you could add, favourite place to pose a model or take a wedding photograph. On our regular morning strolls we were intrigued by the variety of poses struck around the lake. Not only were there models and brides, but tummy tappers, bum slappers, arm wagglers, twisters, tree benders, hip swingers, tai chi practioners and the odd expatriate doing his best to impress. Most impressive however, were the serious ex-army types determined not to let themselves go. We watched in awe as light poles were punched with bare knuckles - not something we'll be trying anytime soon.

Another feature of the lake was the coffee drinkers, sipping their Trung Nguyen traditional coffee with sweet milk, aka condensed milk. Needless to say yours truly found her place quite easily in the elegant cafes around the lake, pronouncing the coffee the best in the world.

Uncle Ho sure knew a good lake when he saw it, and so did we.

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A happy week in Hanoi

We're just back from a hectic but fabulous week in Vietnam. We went to the northern region only, and based ourselves mainly in Hanoi, where some old friends of Fenella are living.

It's a wonderful city to walk around. Wonderful sights, sounds, experiences. Incredibly photogenic and not so mean streets. And there's about 6 million people crammed into a fairly small area.

Crossing the road can be a bit of a challenge. So busy, so crowded - just walk straight ahead slowly and purposefully, don't make eye contact but stay alert, and the bikes, mopeds, trucks, buses, cars and overloaded pedestrian street vendors will mostly weave around you. Amazing really. Ho Chi Minh City is a lot worse, I'm told, but we stayed well away from there. We've heard stories of people alighting from their taxi over the road from their hotel, only to have to take another taxi to cross the street!

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The Kerala connection

This old photo is from an album that turned up in a second-hand shop in Kalgoorlie, WA. A lady purchased it, tried to find the owner of it and some years later got a response from a man in Melbourne who said they belonged to his great aunt, Dorothy Cartner.

Meanwhile, I'd been doing a bit of family research myself, trying to trace my grandmother's family from south India and lo and behold, this same man from Melbourne contacts me to say we have a family connection! The missing Cartner piece of the jigsaw was now falling into place. My grandmother Maude Cartner and his great aunt were cousins.

Unfortunately no-one can identify most of the people in the album, however I suspect the middle aged couple seated outside their plantation home in Kerala are my grandmother's parents, Mr James Cartner and his wife Amelia Caroline Kohlhoff (possibly descended from Indian royalty - research is ongoing).

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