The Soul of the Rice Fields

Northern Vietnam's Peculiar Water Puppet Theatre



A distinct, traditional art form found nowhere else in the world, Vietnam's Water Puppet Theater was born in the fertile Red River delta during the tenth century. Farmers, inspired by harvested, water-filled rice paddies began to stage impromptu puppetry shows on the water's surface as villagers gathered around the edge of the pond to watch. Often thought of as the "Soul of the Rice Fields" the world's first glimpse of Northern Vietnam's splashy, smoke-and-fire-filled acrobatic puppet extravaganza came only after the normalization of relations with the west.

The show, made up of a number of skits, shows the life of everyday peasants, drawing on a wealth of folklore with a good dose of humor as farmers and forefounders establish and defend the country against forces of man and nature. Performed entirely in Vietnamese with no foreign translations or explanations, the meaning of most of these tales may be lost on most tourists, but its still a highly entertaining glimpse into the traditional folk culture of the northern Vietnamese.

Modern water puppetry is performed in a pool, the water surface being the stage. Puppeteers stand, waist deep in water, behind a screen, controling puppets using long bamboo rods and string mechanisms hidden beneath the water's surface. Carved out of wood, these puppet often weigh up to 15 kg.

Puppeteers taking a bow.

A traditional Vietnamese orchestra provides a vibrant vietnamese musical accompaniment as Cheo singers sing traditional northern Vietnamese songs, telling the story being splashed out by the puppets.

Getting Friendly with the Locals at Hoan Kiem Lake

The Capitol's curious citizens still gather around the famous Hoan Kiem lake, the heart of Hanoi, sitting on its banks and benches socializing and watching the city come to life. While there are no puppets splashing about in the lake's ever-green waters, the friendly, funny and outgoing people of Hanoi find other ways to amuse themselves.

As we wandered around the lake, waiting for the water puppet show to begin in a nearby theatre, a kind couple gestured for us to join them on a small bench, before commencing to converse with us in perfect Vietnamese. Of course we had no idea what they were saying, but thanks to a handy phrasebook we unburied from the bottom of a bookbag, we were able exchange greetings, ages and nationalities.

The man became very excited when I told him I was from America (My in Vietnamese, pronounced Mi). He pointed to himself before launching one arm up over his head, gliding it above him. Judging from the sound effects that accompanied it, I took this to be an airplane. Then, he pretended to hold a gun, aimed it up at where his hand had been flying, and began to pull the trigger as he followed it across the sky. He looked at me and smiled, pointing to himself, shooting at the plane and saying "My! My! (America)". Despite this somewhat unpleasant connection, he was very excited to shake my hand and smiled constantly as he tried to communicate with us (tried being the key word).

Never underestimate the power of gestures!

The Spirit of Hanoi

Whether it is blossom time or not
Jasmine is always jasmine
Elegant or not
One is nevertheless a citizen of the capital

Nguyen Cong Tru (1778-1858)

The French could not subjugate the Vietnamese spirit of independence, but their influence is visible in the fading colonial facades of the once brightly colored buildings, weathered by war and old age, looking all the lovlier for the wear. The smell of freshly baked baguettes drifts in the bustling streets as the sun begins to stir the citizens of the capitol. Old friends meet at the Hoan Kiem Lake, the heart of the city, to talk and reminisce about times gone by, as the silohuette of their berets show against the sunlit surface the lake's perennially green waters. Badminton nets spring up on every empty corner, and around the lake gangs of Hanoi's old generation gracefully practice their Tai Chi, their arms slowly rising and falling, as if floating on water, or caught in a dream.

Scarlet banners hung across the streets shout "Long live the Communist Party of Vietnam!"

Its been a week since i returned from Vietnam, but the smell of pho and baguettes still lingers in my nose. I remember staggering down the sidewalks of the Old Quarter, crowded with tiny pho 'shops', low tables covered with fresh vegetables, clams, and meat surrounding a steaming pot of broth and rice noodles. Foot stool chairs strewn across the cement footpath were buried beneath traditional straw hats, baseball caps, and hungry citizens enjoying their morning meals. Women selling the famous french baguettes stopped me every couple steps, .15 cents a roll.


Men and women sipped Vietnamese tea, while others waited for their dripping coffee to slowly fill their thirsty cups. I weaved my way through them all, past curious children squatting on door steps, smiling and sometimes saying hello. I tip-toed around women filling the baskets that would later hang from the shoulder-slung bamboo sticks as they wandered the streets selling all kinds of edible deliciousness.



Its been a week since my ears rang with the sound of motorbikes beeping their horns incessently, seemingly in beats of threes, as their engines gently hummed along with the city's song. At every corner the men of this mad orchestra leaned against their heavy metal instuments, arms folded calmly, waiting for a chance conductor to bid them play. "Madame, motorbike? Cyclo?" Motos flowed thru the streets, and sometimes up, over the sidewalks, the blood of the city fighting to flow through its conjested veins.

My very first cyclo ride back in Chau Doc, at the end of my Cambodia trip. Cyclos hold a special place in my heart, not only because of the amazing experience of driving though the streets of the tiny, rarely visited town, but also because my cyclo 'driver' was the first Vietnamese man to propose to me :)

Its been a week since I risked my life to cross those narrow streets that seemed to grow as wide as the Red River as I slowly stepped across, bikes flowing around me like a stream wrapping itself around an island.

Its been a week, but the song of that sleepless city still sounds in my ears, as fresh as the morning baguettes and as sweet as the freshly sqeezed fruit juice sold on every old quarter corner. Its been a week, but I can still feel the embrace of Hanoi in all my senses, even in my dreams.

Vietnam On My Mind

Somehow I've managed to make it back from Vietnam, although now that I have I'm kind of wishing I hadn't! Getting back to Japan was no easy task, and although I seem to have made it, one of my bags has not. Of course the only thing of importance in it was the large collection of photo CDs full of the pictures I took while I was there. Until it finds it's way back to me, here's one of the last images on my camera.

Meet my adopted daughter, Ba, a 5 year old Black H'moung girl living in Lao Chai village, near Sapa, northern Vietnam. Actually, I think she adopted me. Both her parents are addicted to opium, and most of the time she wanders the tourist-flooded streets of Sapa with her baby brother strapped to her back trying to sell whatever she can. Whenever she spotted me in town she would abandon the tourists she was charming at the time, run to me, hug my legs and take my hand, happily following me wherever I went until her mother came to take her away. Then her eyes would fill with tears. The night I left Sapa, she stood outside the van crying uncontrollably, screaming "Goodbye! I love you!"

Maybe she's forgotten me by now, but I'll never forget her.

The Joys of Teaching English

I'm off to Vietnam until (God willing) January 6th, 2006! In the mean time, I leave you with a few Christmas cards the students of my beautiful mountain school made for me. (Nevermind that I don't celebrate Christmas). Well, it's the thought that counts... Enjoy!

Do you like cat balls?


What?!

Memoirs of a Geisha: Hollywood Style

Before I start talking about the problems I have with this movie, I should first say that it was visually stunning and almost certainly entertaining. If you have wanted to see this movie, you should by all means go. There are some really brilliant shots, the cinematography is enchanting and the lighting is beautiful. Zhang Ziyi, Gong Li are breath-taking, and Yuki Kudoh and Kaori Momoi are a pleasure to watch. Don't let these ramblings deter you in any way. But be prepared...The more you know about Japan, the less you will enjoy Hollywood's version of Memoirs of a Geisha.

When I heard that the now famous book by Arthur Golden was going to be made into a movie, I was ecstatic. My hopes quickly turned to fears when I heard that the main actresses would not be Japanese, and that it would be shot in English, which seemed to be the first stabs at any hope for authenticity. The previews for the movie, mysterious and captivating as they were, boasted more than enough cultural inaccuracies to almost force me to swear not to see it. As time went by, hype continued to build, and my curiosity grew. I found myself eager to catch a glimpse of the girls of Gion through Hollywood's eyes.

The debate over the casting of three Chinese (ethnically) actresses in traditionally Japanese roles have been raging since the movie's inception. I think this argument is bunk, since Zhang Ziyi has been cast as a Japanese princess in a Japanese production of "Princess Raccoon (Operetta Tanuki Goten)," far, far away from the evil reach of Hollywood (although very few people outside of Japan would know that). Though their cultures are significantly different from one another, they are actors, acting. After seeing the movie, I can say without a doubt that Zhang Ziyi, Michelle Yeow and Gong Li do just as well depicting geisha as Yuki Kudoh and Kaori Momoi (Japanese actresses in the roles of Pumpkin and Okaasan).

The weakness of the screenplay definitely required this holy triad of Asian cinema to carry it. Zhang, Li and Yeoh are skillful enough to bring their characters, as well as this secret, fantasy world to life.

Knowing anything about Kyoto or geisha culture, however, will not help you enjoy this film. It is riddled with cultural inaccuracies. For example, the hair. No respectable geisha would ever be seen walking around Gion with her hair down, as Hatsumomo and Mameha do, let alone perform in that manner, as Sayuri does in her debut. When their hair is up, it is not in the style of the geisha, who wear wigs, or maiko, who wear it in a very different fashion. When they show the girls putting on their make-up, they have their hair pulled back and secured with a net and band, which is used beneath their wigs, which they never wear!


While the promotional photos of Sayuri's debut dance are stunning, the scene itself is a complete departure from the flower and willow world, even the one Marshall has tried to create. It’s modern, chaotic, and experimental: In short it’s everything that geisha are not. What makes it even worse is the preceding scene of Sayuri dancing in a traditional teahouse, similar to the way geisha actually perform. Then there are the scenes of her training, which imitate the traditional style. Even people with absolutely no knowledge of geisha are bound to be confused by the Spring Dance debut after seeing these scenes, just as I was. I think very few people will be able to appreciate whatever Rob Marshall was trying to do there.

The movie skips over many important parts of the story, especially in the beginning. It opens with Tanaka convincing Sayuri's father to sell his daughters, and then them being ripped away from their home. There is no mention of young Chiyo's first encounter with Tanaka, or her subsequent feelings for him, which sheds light on her future attraction to the Chairman. It also ignores the scene in which Chiyo sees Mr. Tanaka captivated and entertained by a country geisha, which I think would have been an interesting addition if only in passing.

While Hatsumomo was unmistakably evil, I think some of the added scenes in this version took away from the impeccable character of Mameha. For example, after Sayuri is undressed by the Baron (Zhang deserves an award for this scene alone), a new scene was added between her and Mameha, who understood the baron's intentions for inviting her in the first place. Mameha is angry, and obviously jealous of Sayuri, assuming the baron has had his way with her. She chastises Sayuri for ruining all their plans, saying that if she has lost her virginity before her mizuage she is "Worthless". Whether or not the men bidding on Sayuri's mizuage would have agreed, I found this extremely contradictory, since this insult was hurled from the mouth another geisha-- the same geisha that tells Sayuri that "we are not courtesans...we sell our art, not our bodies...we are judged as living works of art."

Perhaps the most disturbing departure from the story is near the end, when Sayuri accompanies the chairman, Nobu, and their associate to Okinawa. In Hollywood's version, this important business client is an American serviceman who has seen a picture of Sayuri and wants to meet her. Nobu agrees to arrange this meeting, and when Sayuri is introduced to him at the airfield, she greets him with "hajimemashite" (nice to meet you in Japanese) before engaging him in witty conversation- completely in English! Since almost the entire film is in English, you may think it’s not important. As long as the characters were in the "hanamachi" surrounded by other "Japanese", it is somewhat possible to suspend belief and imagine that they are communicating in their own language. But when a foreigner shows up, and then we are expected to believe that a geisha, with no exposure to the world outside of Japan, is suddenly able to entertain him with her witty conversation, that's stretching it. As if this unnecessary inclusion of foreigners wasn't enough, he later propositions her, offering to pay her for some "alone time", which she flat out refuses but later decides to suffer though in hopes of freeing herself from Nobu's affections.

Why was it necessary to use a foreigner to play this role? In the book, it is a Japanese man's interest in Sayuri which Nobu hopes will save his business. It is that same man that propositions Sayuri, and who she later seduces. Changing this character into a foreigner who would presumably only see her as a high class prostitute is stereotypically cliché, especially since it was actually a Japanese man in the book. It would have been much less cliché and more and interesting to stick to the story and show the misunderstanding of geisha that permeates their own culture.

Another completely unrealistic scene occurs after Sayuri returns home from her mizuage to find Hatsumomo in her room. The two engage in the inevitable kimono clad cat fight, knocking over a lamp and starting a fire. Sayuri sees the flames and attempts to extinguish it, while Hatsumomo wiggs out and begins throwing lamps, spreading the fire throughout the wooden okiya. The scene blurs out in a glow of flames obscuring her wicked eyes, and transitions to her disappearing into the foggy (or smokey) streets of the hanamachi, never to be seen again. Sayuri watches her from the second floor of the okiya! How did they survive? How did the Okiya, or the rest of the Hanamachi for that matter? There would have been no way to save the okiya and all its priceless heirlooms from the fire. Yet they continue on, without the loss of a single kimono, as if nothing ever happened.

Why didn't they choose to show the scene of Hatsumomo going mad with jealousy over the famous kabuki actor at the party? It definitely would have been more interesting and more believable!

Overall, the mediocre quality of this movie is due largely to the embarrassing screenplay. The strong performance of the actors give the streamlined script a subtlety and emotion that can be truly moving (the final scene is absolutely beautiful), but it could have been so much better...

The Daily Commute

Snow-covered persimmons, dangling over the shivering surface of the Kiso River like tangerine tear drops of sunshine. This is the view from my beautiful mountain school, North Ena Junior High. (Click on the photo to see a larger version).

Nothing says "Saftey Driving" (as our Japanese friends say) as operating a motor vehicle on a slippery, winding road through the mountains with one hand out the window taking pictures! The ride to work, this morning was just too breath-taking. The pine covered slopes, frosted with a fresh cover of over-night snow, seemed to rise higher on every side as I headed towards my beautiful mountain school. The blue sky, the warm sun, and the way the sugar powdered mountains melded with the fluffy, frosty, clouds hanging low with heavy snow was like a dream...a winter fantasy. Before the snow started falling, I could have sworn I would be happy to skip winter all together, but i will never be able to forget the way the mountains look blanketed in snow, or seeing Ontake's pristine peak rise over the southern alps that embrace my town. Yay for winter!

Karyukai: The Flower and Willow World