We got up early this morning to take a walk around the nearby lake. This is a favorite activity of mine in Hanoi, a real “must see.” The entire area – sidewalks, open squares, streets, lakeside paths – transforms itself into a gigantic sports club. Badminton matches abound with singles, doubles, and even triples on every available open space. The nets are supported by apparently delicately balanced bamboo poles held taut by thin cords anchored to spaces in the tiled sidewalks and courtyards. A small park across the street from the lake serves as the dance aerobics gym with about two to three hundred women gyrating as loudspeakers blare American oldies (…by the shores of Babylon…) overlaid with counting in Vietnamese (… hai, ba, bon, …). The street around the lake is used as a track by joggers and power walkers.
There are several aspects of this that are particularly fascinating to me. In marked contrast to the usual modesty in dress, the exercising men and women of Hanoi are fairly scantily clad. All are in shorts, many are in tank tops, and quite a few men are shirtless. All wear athletic footwear. This is remarkable because as a rule Vietnamese are very conservatively dressed. One only sees shorts, tank tops, or spaghetti straps on the western tourists. No matter how hot or humid, Vietnamese are invariably in long pants and often long- rather than short-sleeved shirts.
There is an overwhelming sense of community spirit. It seems like everyone is out there from callow youths to gray seniors. And everyone appears to be having a great time. Although I’m sure it happens, I can’t recall ever witnessing a heated argument about a line call in badminton or a hard foul in soccer. We are surrounded by smiles and laughter. It’s like a big street fair or a block party except that it happens every single morning. I’m incredibly envious on many levels: as a healthcare professional and especially one who deals with cardiovascular disease who is always trying to get patients to be more active; as a person who finds solitary and “non-game” exercise somewhat of a chore, even a bore; and as one who simply enjoys watching people having fun.
This all starts around 5 am and melts away well before 7. The exercising crowds start to thin, badminton racquets are put away, waves of motorcycles reclaim the streets like a tide coming in to wash away the walkers, and there is a crescendo of revving engines and honking horns as the aerobics tunes fade. I guess it’s time for a shower and breakfast. And nobody breakfasts like the Vietnamese. Just ask Charlie Shaeffer. But that’s a subject for another time.
