Docking at Da Nang, we’re off to visit the ancient town of Hoi An. We travel through bustling downtown Da Nang. I wonder that so many people are sick, and only the women. Their faces below the eyes are covered with cloths. I know this is a Buddist country, so they are not veiling. The only people I’ve seen with masks like this are the Japanese who, when they are ill, thoughtfully keep their germs to themselves. I’m thinking this must be some kind of epidemic, when our guide tells us the women cover their faces to protect their skin from the sun. They prize women with lighter complexions, because that means they are of an upper class and don’t have to work outside in the fields. “We always want what we don’t have,” Binh, our guide says. “Here, we want to have whiter skin; and in other places, white women put on lotion and sit in the sun to get a tan to show that they have a life of luxury with plenty of time to sit in the sun and get tan.”
In Hoi An, we wander the narrow streets, stopping in temples and commmunity buildings covered with ornate, colorful, carved and painted decorations. Inside, the elaborate altars are smokey and fragrant with billowing incense. Bowls are filled with offerings to the gods. I’m sure the gods were happy with the three packaged rolls of Oreo coookies stacked in a large red laquer plate.
Viet Nam is known for the most exquisite embroidery in the world. We look in on many workshops, where rows of young girls are bent over tables, their needles furiously poking in and out. They make the tiniest stitches with the finest guage silk thread. They are copying pictures from magazines. The work is so realistic looking, you’d swear they’re photographs. I have mixed feelings. In one sense, it’s a travesty to think this is what they’ve been doing with their childhoods and will probably continue throughout their lives. In another sense, as an artist, I often think about all the years I wasted staring out the school window waiting for the bell to ring. All that time, I could have been perfecting an art technique. Looking back, if I had a choice, I would have chosen to spend my time learning an art form that could support me. But then I think, the operative word is choice.
