Hanoi heartland
Hanoi heartland
by Melanie Ball
Small and bent with bunions, her feet rest atop black velvet scuffs. Her silver hair is pulled into a bun wrapped in beaded black mesh. A gold-and-jade ring and jade bracelet adorn the bird-like hands with which she removes a plastic box from the drawstring bag between us. As we share a bench beside Hoan Kiem Lake, in the heart of Hanoi, I watch the elderly Vietnamese woman daub red areca nut and white slaked lime on a betel leaf and fold it into a quid. But she doesn’t pop this parcel in her mouth; she puts it aside and prepares more stimulant, adding several threads of tobacco to a chunk of nut in a metal canister, and grinding them to a course paste with a spatula. Hawkers with postcards, gaudy fans and photocopied Lonely Planet guidebooks ply their wares around us as she packs up, finally donning her velvet scuffs and standing. Having folded the square of plastic spread on the bench to protect her black-satin trousers (I just sat down), she smiles at me and moves away, small steps taking her around the lake’s concrete shore.
by Melanie Ball
Small and bent with bunions, her feet rest atop black velvet scuffs. Her silver hair is pulled into a bun wrapped in beaded black mesh. A gold-and-jade ring and jade bracelet adorn the bird-like hands with which she removes a plastic box from the drawstring bag between us. As we share a bench beside Hoan Kiem Lake, in the heart of Hanoi, I watch the elderly Vietnamese woman daub red areca nut and white slaked lime on a betel leaf and fold it into a quid. But she doesn’t pop this parcel in her mouth; she puts it aside and prepares more stimulant, adding several threads of tobacco to a chunk of nut in a metal canister, and grinding them to a course paste with a spatula. Hawkers with postcards, gaudy fans and photocopied Lonely Planet guidebooks ply their wares around us as she packs up, finally donning her velvet scuffs and standing. Having folded the square of plastic spread on the bench to protect her black-satin trousers (I just sat down), she smiles at me and moves away, small steps taking her around the lake’s concrete shore.
- Word count: 1593 (plus 121 word facts box)
- Hires photos are also available to accompany this story
- To view the story in full, please contact the writer directly.
- Hires photos are also available to accompany this story
- To view the story in full, please contact the writer directly.
