Night is falling. In the distance, the colors of the clouds fade into obscurity. A few lonely stars sparkle in the corner of the sky. Looking down from above, the Hà Nội night is like a flowing stream of stars, with a thousand tiny flickering electric lights. A row of tall streetlights casts long, yellow and white lines that weave across each other over the city. A stream of people drifts through the center of the street, every movement in harmony with the rhythm of the Hà Nội night.
Without the raucous youthfulness of a night in Sài Gòn, without the shy hint of sadness of a night in the old capital of Hương Giang, not quaint like the flower-filled nights in the old quarter of Hội An, the night in Hà Nội has a uniquely seductive air. When the big clock in Bờ Hồ strikes midnight the rhythm of life keeps going. There is no time when Hà Nội completely sinks into sleep. A million people in the capitol light a hundred-thousand lights, all sparkling bright colors in the night. Construction workers continue long after office hours have ended.
The night is the extension of the day. Although human life is limited, a full third of it is reserved for dreaming. Living and working through the day is not enough; we also must live through the night. Only after discovering the bright colors of the Hà Nội night does one understand that time is more precious than gold.
Sleepless nights of capitol city security guards, nights of sacrificial labour for engineers developing ideas to give the city a brighter future; brightly colored Hà Nội nights separate the present from the past. Noisy dancehall nights, ethereal nights in a café - in a tiny black cup of cappuccino, romantic nights in the flower market, or the vegetable market, exhausted nights of the people who sweep up the trash in the streets, bright nights of people absorbed in the pages of a book. Night nourishes the intelligence of humanity. Small silent drops of sweat in the night, silent nights on the street corners where pairs of lovers locked in the ecstasy of a kiss are unaware of the dew as it quietly settles.
In the night, the air becomes clean and soothing. The smell of night is the smell of nature; it’s the smell of the earth sending nutrients into trees and flowers, the smell of the sky slipping down and breathing life into the gentle breezes that play in dry leaves on the street or tousle long hairstyles. The fragrance of Nguyễn Du street at night is the smell of alstonia blossoms. On Thanh Nhiên road it’s magnolia. And then there is another smell, vague and without any definite location, that leaves you wondering and doubtful. It’s there in the day too, but all the busy activity prevents you from noticing it then. The nighttime air wakes up all the smells that have been buried in the Thăng Long soil over in the last thousand years of civilization.
Hà Nội nights are sensitive. The chill of an autumn night falling unexpectedly brings goose bumps to the skin. Dewdrops shine on the leaves and grass; tropical dew is like heaven's gentle teardrops. Breezes blow the leaves noisily beneath your feet. Sometimes at night, lying in bed at home, you can still hear the sound of dry leaves falling on the rooftops.
Suddenly, an empty feeling in your stomach reminds you of the gastronomical gifts of the night. When Hà Nội was still poor, night-food was already a popular part of Hà Nội culture. Over half a century ago, Thạch Lam , in his book "The Thirty Six Streets of Hà Nội" wrote about the night food of Hà Nội people: the xôi shops and tea stands, mìn páo, giày vò, lục tàu xá, and chè sen. Now that Hà Nội is wealthier, the night-food has developed even more. In the old quarter, the night food street is full of stands and stalls selling phở and cháo, the specialties of Hà Nội. The rising steam from a bowl of night-time phở carries with it the fragrance of the north vietnamese traditional recipe. Add to that an egg yolk, scalded in hot water.
How can it be that our northern people have only now become experts in fine cuisine? A southern poet once wrote: “you close your eyes yet you keep dreaming of northern phở”. The saying “eat northern, dress southern” is absolutely true.
And then there are the simpler treats of the night - poor hardworking vendors wander up and down every street and alley pushing bicycles or four-wheeled carts. You can hear them calling "Hot cassava he-e-ere". The words stretch out extra long as they spread out through the air together with the warm smell of boiled sweet cassava covered under a thick layer of cloth. Little old men sell hot, crispy bread and grandmothers sell "bánh khúc", a kind of cake made from steamed sticky-rice-flour and wrapped in a khúc leaf. That's a favorite snack for college students studying late into the night.
Hà Nội night-tourism was always a special pleasure that our foreign guests enjoyed but Hà Nội natives cautiously avoided. In the past, going down-town at night was an unsettling experience - nine o'clock and the streets were already dark and empty. Now that feeling is completely gone. At night the city is lively, people are still milling about, and cafes still have their soft, dim lights on. You can still hear clear, gentle music coming from inside. In the daytime it's too noisy - many sounds can't really be appreciated until after sundown. Listening to the classical guitar ensembles, it's like the music wants to share its secrets with you. Hà Nội nights are romantic, like a lovely young girl: "returning to you, i find the true meaning of my heart" .
Hà Nội nights - Thăng Long nights. The face of Gươm lake at night is as calm and peaceful as it was one thousand years ago. Looking over at Turtle Tower, the tiny lights cast shimmering shadows down onto the water surface. Somewhere in that dreamlike scene, the lights of Emperor Lê's imperial boat still shine . Somewhere, the shadow of the golden turtle appears for just a moment and then is gone. In the nights of legend the things we see before us appear real; the modern day is like a dream. Wandering in the night-space of Hà Nội is like going against the flow of time. You can still hear the sounds of the countryside: the crickets chirping, the wind in the trees, and the faint sound of a drum sounding out the night watches as in the literature of Thạch Lam - a Hà Nội that completes the link between the present and the ancient past.
The clock above the Bờ Hồ post office strikes out the slow steps of night time, hour by hour. Long nights. Soothing, dreamy nights in the old quarter. Still, quiet nights in Quán Thánh temple, the regular sound of tapping on wood as the monks call out their prayers, the rhythm of the immortal human spirit. Sunken beneath the Hà Nội night, in the mysterious late-hour mist, something stirs; bringing back memories... we love you, Hà Nội.
Translated by Hans Anderson
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