2 novembre 2013
A couple of francophone Vietnamese
Joseph
Mong Phu, 45km west of Hanoi, a designated ancient village, was a little underwhelming compared to the enthusiastic paragraphs in the guidebook.
Trying to find our way we discovered the gate of the concrete 1930s church. The 30 something caretaker ushered us in and presented the statuary. "Marie... Joseph" he indicated, before pointing us in the direction of the donation box. His was the first French accent we'd heard. Vietnam was a French colony for about 100 years, but since the war, and the cut-off communist years, English has taken over in an obvious effort to welcome tourists.
Joseph (that was his name too) ran to get photos of popes past and present who have shown interest in Vietnam. After all, it's got the most christians in Asia, after the Philippines (8% of the population).
The first missionaries arrived in the 16th century with a fair amount of success, in spite of the opposition of various emperors. They saw the religion as the first step to their loss of power. (They were right !)
Anyway the traces are still apparent. From the window of our train rattling slowly from Hanoi to Hue we could spot gothic spires and even florentine domes on the horizon behind the paddy fields and grazing water buffalo.
(In Japan three religions can apparently cohabit comfortably in a person's lifetime. One can have a Shinto birth ceremony, a christian wedding, and a buddhist funeral, according to their particular speciality. Handy isn't it ?)
Mr Jung
We hired bikes in calm(-ish), unpolluted Hue to go and see the imperial tombs a few km out of town.
Bernard's pedal came loose en route. A droopy-moustached chap on a scooter stopped. "Perhaps I can help you. Ah, vous etes francais ! Je parle français un peu comme ci comme ca."
Hr spent a few minutes fixing the pedal, and then, seeing that I was having a hard time on the hilly road (no gears, stifling heat, no lunch, heavy traffic), took us along a lovely flatter sideroad through ricefields, banana.trees and bougainvillea. We understood why the emperors chose the spot for second homes and then final resting place.
He lived there, he said, "in the hills" over Hue, was a retired fireman and told us he had learnt his French in Toulouse.
Twice more he tightened the pedal before putting us back on our road. We thanked him warmly, but we couldn't really refuse his request for something to cover his petrol and so on...
But after all he deserved it, he went well out of his way to help us. We've had many many offers of help in Vietnam, and in China too,, from people who are genuinely concerned, and are keen to practice their English.
Mong Phu, 45km west of Hanoi, a designated ancient village, was a little underwhelming compared to the enthusiastic paragraphs in the guidebook.
Trying to find our way we discovered the gate of the concrete 1930s church. The 30 something caretaker ushered us in and presented the statuary. "Marie... Joseph" he indicated, before pointing us in the direction of the donation box. His was the first French accent we'd heard. Vietnam was a French colony for about 100 years, but since the war, and the cut-off communist years, English has taken over in an obvious effort to welcome tourists.
Joseph (that was his name too) ran to get photos of popes past and present who have shown interest in Vietnam. After all, it's got the most christians in Asia, after the Philippines (8% of the population).
The first missionaries arrived in the 16th century with a fair amount of success, in spite of the opposition of various emperors. They saw the religion as the first step to their loss of power. (They were right !)
Anyway the traces are still apparent. From the window of our train rattling slowly from Hanoi to Hue we could spot gothic spires and even florentine domes on the horizon behind the paddy fields and grazing water buffalo.
(In Japan three religions can apparently cohabit comfortably in a person's lifetime. One can have a Shinto birth ceremony, a christian wedding, and a buddhist funeral, according to their particular speciality. Handy isn't it ?)
Mr Jung
We hired bikes in calm(-ish), unpolluted Hue to go and see the imperial tombs a few km out of town.
Bernard's pedal came loose en route. A droopy-moustached chap on a scooter stopped. "Perhaps I can help you. Ah, vous etes francais ! Je parle français un peu comme ci comme ca."
Hr spent a few minutes fixing the pedal, and then, seeing that I was having a hard time on the hilly road (no gears, stifling heat, no lunch, heavy traffic), took us along a lovely flatter sideroad through ricefields, banana.trees and bougainvillea. We understood why the emperors chose the spot for second homes and then final resting place.
He lived there, he said, "in the hills" over Hue, was a retired fireman and told us he had learnt his French in Toulouse.
Twice more he tightened the pedal before putting us back on our road. We thanked him warmly, but we couldn't really refuse his request for something to cover his petrol and so on...
But after all he deserved it, he went well out of his way to help us. We've had many many offers of help in Vietnam, and in China too,, from people who are genuinely concerned, and are keen to practice their English.
/https%3A%2F%2Fstorage.canalblog.com%2F96%2F72%2F1079539%2F91926808_o.jpg)
/https%3A%2F%2Fassets.over-blog.com%2Ft%2Fcedistic%2Fcamera.png)
/https%3A%2F%2Fstorage.canalblog.com%2F59%2F82%2F1079539%2F91889264_m.jpg)
/https%3A%2F%2Fstorage.canalblog.com%2F48%2F13%2F1079539%2F91864784_m.jpg)
Publicité
Publicité
Commentaires
T
Z
/https%3A%2F%2Fprofilepics.canalblog.com%2Fprofilepics%2F9%2F2%2F92750.jpg)