The Citadel, Hanoi, 13 December 2010

It's better to travel on Mondays. Big cities are always quiet and over-industrious at the beginning of the week, compensating for the riotous weekend. The shops along Hang Ngang are open, but there are no shoppers.

Left along a street lined with sewing supply vendors, things are a bit more lively, but only a bit.

A patisserie decorated for Christmas.

A temple on the corner.

Bird market.

Past the coffin maker, and a funeral.

Further down the street, railroad tracks run right past houses. Around the corner and down the street a little further is another set of tracks.

They are used, but perhaps not much.

At the Army Museum, across from Lenin's statue, the guard at the entrance gate shakes his finger. It's closed, of course. Monday. The Highlands Coffee wedged into the edge of the complex seems unappealing, so I walk on.

Up the street and right onto a wide, busy street lined with beautiful old trees, wondering what to do...but there are airplanes over there, across a walled courtyard. Will a finger-shaking guard appear? No, nor does anyone else.

There's also a stone and gold-washed building on the other side of the grassy square.

It's the gateway to the former Forbidden City where Hanoi's royalty once lived.

A shrine upstairs.

A dragon on the roof.

The steep stairs down.

On the other side of the Doan Mon relic, the signs for tourists are in place.

A symbol of Hanoi's imperial rulers, at the place where the nation's sacred spirits are supposed to converge.

Little is blocked off. Steep staircases lead to more little rooms with shrines, surrounded by large balconies.

But there's little hint of what these buildings once were. The blue signs are cumbersome to read in both English and French, and though the buildings are beautiful they evoke little. It's difficult to picure mandarins dressed in silk moving with grace from one building to the next, or a king's children at play. The Citadel is empty.

Hanoi, 10-13 December 2010

Hanoi in December: At Le Thai To temple, on the west side of Hoan Kiem Lake, December 9 2010. It's quiet, though the temple is small and the street outside is busy. Smoke rises from incense coils, one in front of each stone guardian cat. Other than that, nothing stirs at all.

Outside, the gold-painted buildings should glow in the sun, but there isn't any.

Hang Dao shopping street.

Under the canopy of electrical wires along Hang Bo.

It rains on and off, a dull, chilly drizzle. The roaming doughnut vendors needn't bother to try keep their baskets dry in the rain. The greasy, sugared balls of dough they sell are inedible anyway, a mere pretence used to extract money from hungry drunken foreigners. The baguette vendors on the corner work twice as hard as usual, though, trying to keep their product dry. They are the only ones who seem to mind the rain. The flower vendors are better off. Their sheaves of roses and gladioli ride the backs of their bicycles, fresh and colorful from morning until night. The fruit vendors trot the streets of the old quarter dressed in plastic rain ponchos, pausing at each shop door to sell the workers an afternoon snack.

A woman selling plastic ponchos and cheap little umbrellas chases a couple of European boys down the street, teasing them into buying an umbrella. The jacket vendors on Hang Ngang have extra customers, all hoping to keep warm. The pho shops and Bia Hoi stands do a roaring business all over town.

Fried tofu and frog's legs with bamboo shoots in a Bia Hoi near Hoi Tay. There are four men at the neighboring table. They've been drinking vodka, from all appearances for a long time, for their table is solid with empty plates. One realized that their are foreigners at the next table, and speaks in broken German. After a time, he remembers that he has an appointment and weaves off down the street. Two men remain, peeling little tangerines quietly.

In the Botanical Garden or around Hoan Kiem Lake, bridal couples make the rounds, getting photographed in spite of the gloom. When the skies open, they retreat to the nearest cafe still in full dress to smoke until the shower passes. They spend more time waiting than getting their pictures taken, so that the photograpers are still shooting at dusk.

Christmas decorations twinkle in the darkness, and not just in the tourist district. There's no Santa Claus in the mall, but parents have brought their dressed-up babies along to photograph them under the shopping center's Christmas trees.

A Christmas tree outside a cinema on Hang Bai.

A cotton snowman near the north end of Hoan Kiem.

On Monday, museums are closed. The Citadel is deserted, and it's not even clear that it's open.

The gateway to the former Forbidden City.

The shrine in the gateway's upper story.

A dragon on the roof.

The steep staircase.

On the other side of the Doan Mon relic, the signs for tourists are in place.

A symbol of Hanoi's imperial rulers, at the place where the nation's sacred spirits are supposed to converge.