The Ho Chin Minh Mausoleum is completely dedicated to Vietnam's most beloved national hero (his mummified body is inside). Perhaps it was a mistake to go on a Saturday because it was outrageously busy, the line up to get into the mausoleum was slow moving and at least 1 km long, if not longer. Since “Uncle Ho” is so respected, there are many rules for entering the mausoleum: no tank tops, shorts, cameras, hats, hands can't go in pockets and a generally respectful demeanour is required. Jasmine and I were a second favourite attraction Saturday in all our pale glory to the children. We felt a little like celebrities with all the pictures that were taken of us. Everywhere we went the children waved and proudly said the one English word they knew, “hello”.
The war museum had an older crowd that more subtly noticed us, and thankfully refrained from photography (its cute when kids do it, not so much when adults do it). I must admit it was a little odd being there because it was dedicated to the American War (as opposed to the Vietnam War). The only explanation I can give for how it felt to be there is if you appeared to be of German ancestry and you visited an old concentration camp with mainly Jews around.
In the same way that North Americans have an arbitrary adoration for European accents, Asians seem to admire pale skin. I say arbitrary because there's really no reason for the admiration (in either case) other than its contrast with the local norm. At least with accents, anonymity is attainable via silence. Here there's no hope of unexamined public life, one's sole consolation is to hope the discomfort associated with constant observation diminishes with time.
