The beach studio

The people, opportunities, sights, sounds, conversations, stories and philosophies that I encounter each week, in Vietnam, never cease to fill me with joy, surprise me, cause me to think, stop, commence, dare, smile, give help, share, experiment and 'live in the moment' as I had hardly ever done before. 

Recently, I was offered the use of an old fisherman's cottage beside the beach in An Bang, a fishing village outside Hoi An.  The house is approached by a narrow lane lined with painted gateposts of periwinkle blue, eau-de-nile, yellow ochre, cerulean. Chickens run between the bushes in shaded gardens and neighbours sit under cool porches. Children shout 'hello' as I pass by. Two little girls in sunshine dresses are  gate.

The beach studio

the house itself may not be very old. it is difficult to tell by the style or the condition just how long the house has been there. Some of the details look like Art Deco mixed with a bit of 1960's kitsch but it may only be 20 years old. The humid climate quickly takes it toll on concrete buildings so even relatively new constructions gather the characteristic black mould that makes them look prematurely ancient.

The work space

The space inside is spartan. Deborah, who has lent me this space for a few weeks has upgraded the interior so there are fans, power sockets, a clean, even floor and brightly painted white walls that suck in the light from the garden.

Four sets of double doors open into the lovely garden with Coconut palms, avocado, hibiscus, bougainvillea, papaya and frangipani. 

This is a paradise conjured in a dream in a time long ago.

After weeks of discontent, I am much more settled and have been very productive for the past three weeks. Work on the Saigon book is progressing better and I have spontaneously produced some uncharacteristic paintings which, although not 'great' are filled with the spirit of this new found freedom.

This place is from another time. There is no WiFi, no hot water, no unnecessary decorations of any kind. The pictures are my work. There is a table, some wooden chairs, an old wicker chair and footstool and a bamboo day bed (that I use to keep my paper stock off the floor). 
                                                                                                                                                 

A neighbour's kitchen. It looks like it's washing day.









All the village houses have these fat terracotta jars in the garden. Mainly they store rainwater or well water.
This one, in Deborah's garden' is decorative and is just here to keep the hibiscus company!

The view from behind the cottage shows the two louvred doors that open out from the studio onto the garden. Just our of shot on the left is the shower room with toilet. The owner's wife, Hue, does all her laundry in this room and often I arrive to find the garden draped with sheets and towels.


there are two frangipani trees coming into leaf and blossom very soon. The local tradition is to strip these plants of all their leaves before the lunar new year (February this year). I am not sure why.

Gladioli I think - or a close cousin.

Hue ( pronounced Hoo-way) makes lunch for me if I ask her. This is lunch Hue style. From top right - braised pork ribs, my eating bowl with a little white fish that was caught on the beach only 100 metres away that morning, A broth with carrot and cabbage and the little white fish, local rice (of course), some spicy chunks of a sturdy white fish like shark, a bowl of lettuce and herbs from my garden, a bowl of Vietnamese dip (fish sauce, chili,  lime juice, garlic. spring onion and salt. Lunch arrives on a large round tin tray covered with a plastic dome like an over-sized colander.


 


I use the studio for drawing lessons each week. Here is Fran experiencing her first ever drawing lesson which will be a huge success thanks to Dr. Betty Edwards and Picasso of course!

Here is Fran again - practicing her 'sighting'. This pic is taken through one of the pierced screens that allows air to move between the rooms in the cottage.








I decorated the door with a hanging of bamboo and watercolour sketches one day last week.  The bamboo sticks tapped the door all afternoon in the breeze that comes over the dunes from the ocean.

Isn't the door a gorgeous shade of blue! 

I will be leaving Hoi An in seven short weeks so I need to make the most of this wonderful gift while I have it. I will have an exhibition of my work in this space before I leave and move up to Sapa.

Love it or lose it

Central Phnom Phen

 In this part of the world, you don't have to look very hard to find evidence of the part played by France in Vietnam's history.  Many of the key buildings of state were erected by the French.

But, it wasn't until my visit to Phnom Penh, in Cambodia, that I became aware that there is some concern about the possible loss of the architectural heritage left by the French in South East Asia.  

That weekend I read, in the Phnom Penh Times, that there are two points of view when it comes to the older buildings there. One side values the history, culture and architectural beauty; the other values the real estate and the possible financial gain from redevelopment of the large city centre sites occupied by these 'grand old ladies' of architecture.

Decaying French architecture 

Of course, Saigon simply wouldn't have the same charm without the old Post Office, the Opera House, the old L'Hotel de Ville that is now home to the People's Committee.  Apart from the glory of their elegance that is evocative of another age, each one of these buildings has a fascinating story to tell.

The former Hotel de Ville - Saigon

L'Opera -Saigon

But there is a less conspicuous legacy of little merchants' shop houses that give the streets of Saigon their unique character. The oldest of these modest buildings are now 150.  

Some have been loved and maintained but many are suffering the ravages of time and crumbling or disappearing behind giant hoardings and modern concrete 'embellishments' and extensions. 

Central Post Office - Saigon

The three storey shop houses adjacent to Ben Thanh market (below)are an example of this kind of treatment. If the advertising companies, sign makers and property owners are allowed to continue defacing, disguising and disfiguring Saigon's architectural heritage, these buildings will be lost and the character of this iconic area will be changed forever.

As humans, we collect the memories and souvenirs of all the people and events that have influenced or changed our lives. It is the nature of people to want to hold on to some aspects of the past - it can give us a sense of belonging and it confirms out identities. 

For this reason, many people are unsettled by too much loss and change. Our favourite cities are just like people, they are a collection of souvenirs that represent all the different cultures, religions, political regimes, nationalities and trends all leave their traces behind as they pass through. These traces remind us who we are.

Many townscapes in the west have suffered at the hands of careless town planners who erased neighbourhoods and demolished old buildings in their town centres to make way for modern, concrete shopping malls and car parks. The wounds left behind have, still, not healed. People can feel demoralised and lose their sense of place. Sometime 'we just don't know what we have lost until it is gone'. 

But cities that have cherished their unique tapestry of architectural styles through the ages are warm, vibrant, welcoming and interesting to all.  Those who have filled their towns with concrete are regretting the loss of history now. 

Former shop houses in Singapore's city centre

In Singapore, properties like the old merchant houses that line the broad avenues of Saigon, are being renovated and turned into comfortable homes by young professionals. Maybe it will be a while before the young Vietnamese develop a taste for this style of living.  In the mean time, it is everyone's duty to preserve this cultural and architectural heritage so it can be enjoyed by the next generations.

The song of Vietnam

It has been a very noisy two weeks here in Hoi An.

Starting on January 23rd we had the Lunar New year festival, locally known as Tet which starts quietly with families burning ceremonial paper clothing, money, shoes and   poems in pots on the street outside their homes. In this ceremony they are sending the kitchen god up to the heavens to report on the behaviour and activities within the home over the past year. 


Our landlady (whom we call Auntie) came to the house with her brother and one of his daughters and the youngest son.

They brought with them a feast of whole boiled chicken, spring rolls, rice and cold meats. There were five fruits, flowers and new joss sticks for the altars in the garden, in the kitchen and upstairs in the studio.  They burned ceremonial paper goods in the lane outside the house and the kitchen good was sent off to speak with the Jade Emperor for a week.  The kitchen god  likes to ride on a red carp and some people throw fish into the rivers to send the kitchen god on his way.

• The release of the strong-swimming carp into local ponds, rivers and lakes, is believed to transport the Kitchen God to heaven. After delivering the God, the carp transforms into a dragon.
• It is said that the God will then report to the Jade Emperor on the life of homeowners and pray for luck, happiness and prosperity for all members of the house in the coming year.
• The Kitchen God returns to Earth on New Year’s Eve (February 9 this year) and resume his duties as the caretaker of Vietnamese kitchens.

Throughout all this, the Vietnamese, who love to sing, hold Karaoke parties in their homes and at local cafes.  they don't care how loud or how badly they sing; they just sing their hearts out. The older generation remember a time when public singing and public music was not allowed so now they make the most of the freedom to sing and celebrate. 

Tet lasts about a week ( or so) and on the last night they really let rip! A party at end of our lane was so loud that the windows rattled in the studio and the water in my pot rippled! At 9.15 everything stops like nothing ever happened. That is the one great thing about this country - everything stops before 9.30 and the streets go quiet.  

Huge lanterns blowing the evening breeze

This week, 14 days after the New Moon, we had Full Moon night in Hoi An. I have never seen the streets so busy. We had to fight our way through the crowds to get from one end of Tran Phu to the other. On these nights there are no electric lights allowed in the streets apart from the lanterns. The waterfront was completely dark apart form the odd candle-lit table in a cafe and oil lamps on the boats. it was magical.

Table altar outside the bookshop

A gallery owner tends his altar on the street outside his shop and makes offerings.

Lantern lit riverscape

Music filled the streets and the young people and families promenade in the crowded streets to see the sights. We listened to classical guitar on one of the boats moored along Bach Dang waterfront and ate near the Japanese bridge where we watched town elders playing Chinese chess dressed in traditional silk pyjama suits.

Two days later and its time for a feast at the local temple. we arrived to see tables laid out with fried spring rolls, fatty roast pork, boiled pork and blood cakes, salad and white garlicky sausage. Larue beer flowed freely and the old men went from table to table shaking hands and topping up everyone's glasses.


Everyone in the neighbourhood gathered, took a seat and enjoyed the feast. more food was brought in waves - now baguettes, now bean sprouts, more salad and bowls and bowls of pork broth. Everyone is laughing and drinking.The old men offer cigarettes around the table.

Mot Hai Ba Yo!

Mr. Hung had been on the sauce since breakfast I reckon. With his larger than life personality he missed his calling in Chinese opera!


The lady below is 84 and has a beautiful set of painted black teeth but she was reluctant to give me a smile.  

This guy arrived at out table to show off his skills by making a bird and a grasshopper out of palm leaves. We gave them to as little boy and girl.

A woman with a beautiful voice stood up to since a traditional song without any accompaniment. Everyone was quiet for a little while.  Then the men started to sing and a boy band was formed. Finally all the singers sang a popular song and the entire party clapped along in rhythm.

Here is Phuong and her lovely husband (below). 


Their family is in the middle of a funeral. An uncle died suddenly and the funeral ceremonies last for seven days.










 The lonely wail of a single stringed  'violin' has been winding its way around our little streets for two days, occasionally interspersed with the slow drum and gong rhythm that seems to signify a vigil. 

This morning at 4.30am, the saddest song founds its way into my room; an unusually melodic song of a male choir that really chilled me. I couldn't sleep again.  

Here is Phuong with Robert and Bill. 




And.... Robert with another lovely local.

I don't think I have ever attended such a jolly party in my life. These lovely people laugh and sing with abandon. I danced with one of the girls and came close to taking the mic to sing them a traditional song from the UK. That must have been the beer!  A good time was had by all and the party continued long after we left. 

Back home, the drunken singing from compete parties is drowning out the ever-present funerary dirges which will last for another two days I believe.

My love of boats

I am passionate about boats. I love to draw them and back home in England I even lived on one for 10 years. I can sit and watch boats bob about in a harbour for hours. Just listening to the slap of ropes on masts and watching fishermen mend nets and wind ropes fills me with delight. One of the big benefits of living near the river or the coast in Vietnam is being able to enjoy a seemingly endless variety of traditional wooden boats and ships that move along the canals and rivers and gather in harbours along the coast.

I reckon I was born with some salt water in my veins because my mother’s family were seafarers in the north of England. I can just about remember wooden sailing boats coming and going in their home town but sadly the fishing industry is almost extinct in the UK which is a sad loss.

Here in Vietnam, however boats still form a major part of the transport systems internationally, nationally and locally. Whether you want to ship rice to Australia or take your chickens to market, boats are often the best way from A to B. Many communities in rural areas are only accessible by boat so the rhythms of the tides, the winds and the rain are the factors that set the pace of life.

Here are some of my favourite things to do on the water...........

I like to take a little wooden boat down the river in Hoi An at the end of the afternoon and return to the quay side by the market just as the sun is beginning to set. The low afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the ancient town and paints beautiful reflections in the silken waters of the river.

The thrill of taking a speed boat up the Saigon River to Cu Chi is hard to beat as way to spend a morning. Weaving through the floating islands of water hyacinths leaving a sparkling white wake behind you is truly exhilarating.

A truly evocative sight is the estuary at Phan Thiet which is jammed with traditional, wooden fishing boats moored so close together you could almost walk from one end of the town to the other across their decks.  Teams of fishermen work on their boats and the women ferry supplies and men from ship to shore in coracles and small wooden tenders. The sight from the bridge over the Song Ca Ty (river Ca Ty) reminded me of old paintings of the fishing ports of England a hundred years ago. It was like bringing history to life.

Take a trip from Saigon to Vung Tau on the hydrofoil to experience the open wildness of the river with its backdrop of blue and purple hills in the distance. Go speeding past the crotchety fishing boats with their double and triple tiered wheelhouses and wave to the light house keeper as you pass by.

Arrive in Vung Tau and walk along the beach amongst the curly fishing boats and fishermen fixing their nets.

Shrine house decorated for New Year

Yesterday, we went on a long bike ride along the river. On the way we passed a beautifully decorated shrine house. 

Suspended from the ceiling inside was the big red drum that the cox beats to keep the oarsmen in rhythm and two model dragon boats - one for Hoi An and the other for Cam Chau.

As you ca'n see from the photo, the Hoi An boys are sitting up and rowing but the Cam Chau oars are 'up' . I guess this might mean that Hoi An won the cup last year and that Cam Chau was the loser. 

As we cycled further we came to a meadow with a huge boat house in the middle.  I estimate this boat to be about 60 feet long. In teh bow were the still smouldering joss sticks that must have been lit by team members that morning as they prayed for victory in the coming year.

Chuc Mung Nam Moi ..................... Happy New Year everyone.