TADIOTO

The dictionary in my computer doesn’t have a word for what the heat and humidity in Ha Noi does to you.

At least I am not wearing a ton of military equipment and a flak jacket, carrying a rifle, having to shoot people, and getting shot at. It’s usually 32º Celsius during the day in Baghdad, or 90º Farenheit. Right now it’s 104º Farenheit there.

And it’s 95º Farenheit or 35º Celsius in Sudan, same as in Ha Noi.

“It’s cooler in the country,” someone told me at lunch. I still shouldn’t think it’d be at all pleasant to be out in the field doing agricultural work.

It was on one of those horrid days a couple of weeks ago that I went to the countryside. It wasn’t to harvest anything.

The painter Le Quang Ha and the singer Linh Dung simply rang my doorbell at 11am, not believing I could be doing anything that important to skip lunch.

We bought clams next door, and neighbors gave us some lemongrass. Ha drove across the river, to Gia Lam, and showed me a plot of land for sale, not far from Dao Anh Khanh’s studio and home, which is a house on stilts surrounded by a sculpture park. From the lot, we walked a few steps to the bank of the Red River and it was nice to look at the scenery for a while but the sun was prohibiting.

We then went to Le Hong Thai’s house, a few meters away. He’s one of the more thoughtful painters in Ha Noi, and has been a dear friend. I’ve always liked how he modernizes lacquer and silk painting techniques, being subtle with both his images as well as his political and social commentaries. It’s always a bit sad to visit Thai as he is planning on spending more and more time away, in Saigon, Bangkok, and Paris, to paint and write, away from the pressure of Ha Noi.

I will miss too his lovely house – some pics are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/47327151@N00/sets/72157600758308546/

It’s an elegant country home, a traditional house on stilts, but Thai added a white-brick shell and floor-to-ceiling French doors and windows. Furniture is kept to a minimal, nothing apparently expensive, but exquisitely put together. My consolation is that Thai will be in Ha Noi often enough – he loves this city.

In the heat, Thai turned on some big vintage electric fans, surprisingly quiet enough so we could listen to a CD Linh Dung has been working on with her band, led by composer Ngoc Dai. The clams, cooked on the open gas fire, were fabulous, and Thai manages somehow to always have great wine. We took sometimes to debate whether Thai should have a party to celebrate - he’s just recently received a medal for artistic achievements from the French government. I now occasionally address him as “Mon chevalier,” or “My knight.”  In Vietnamese, he’s a “Hiep Si.”

Through lunch, which also had a pork stew, morning glory soup, and some delicious mussels, we ran through the normal topics of conversation: the heat of Ha Noi, the obsession with sex, new gadgets. We left relationships and religion alone, but spent enough time on how reforms are helping some people economically in big cities in Viet Nam, while a lot of inequalities still exist.

We talked of a former prime minister’s criticism of the current leadership. I thought it was significant, but Thai felt the man should have said things while still in power. Still, it is rumored the former leader felt the need to be prudent: instead of the hospital reserved for big shots, he recently went to a private clinic for medical services.

Inevitably at such a meal, we’d end up talking about the ability of artists to do as they want. Ha mentioned a national political commissar who said recently that Viet Nam has changed. Artists can paint anything they want, even porn and degenerate art, so long as they leave the party alone. Ha thought that showed a willingness to exchange whatever cultural standards for one thing: the survival of the party.

Thai smoked a cigarette, saying nothing, and wandered away to strum some notes on the guitar I loaned him.

It was hot when Ha and Dung drove me back across the Red River.