In this collection of black-and-white photos taken by German photographer Horst Faas, Hanoi's streets seem bursting with life, but lurking behind innocent smiling children and packed tram rides are the undeniable remnants of an ongoing war.

Horst Faas (1933–2012) is one of the biggest names in photojournalism and is well-known across history for his works during the American War. In 1962, he became the Associated Press (AP)’s chief photographer for Southeast Asia and lived in Saigon until 1974. During Faas’ time in the country, he won his first Pulitzer Prize in 1965.

Haulers scavenge bricks from the rubbles of Bạch Mai Hospital after parts of the facility was bombed.

Faas took these images during a trip to Hanoi in 1973, just a few months after Operation Linebacker II obliterated whole swaths of neighborhoods in the city. A B-52 carcass from the bombing campaign still remains in today’s Hanoi as part of a war-themed museum.

Across the shots, it’s hard to imagine such a gruesome incident had happened. Teens joke around on their way home from school, grandmas with dyed teeth and their best pals chat on xích lô, and market sessions are as crowded as ever — it’s a testament to the resilience of Vietnamese. A few snapshots show piles of rubbles at locations where the bombs hit, like Khâm Thiên and Bạch Mai Hospital, while Hanoians grapple with rebuilding.

Have a closer look below:

Workers at a paper factory load finished products on an ox-drawn carriage.

School kids hold the Vietnamese flag while welcoming a foreign delegation on the street.

A woman with her trusty bicycle.

Grandpa with his grandchild.

Nón là vendors at Đồng Xuân Market.

Elderly Hanoians waiting to welcome foreign dignitaries.

School children on the way home from school.

Catching up on some current affairs right on the pavement.

Propaganda posters on Tràng Tiền Street.

Playing ping-pong using makeshift equipment at a public park.

A streetcar running along the track in central Hanoi.

Older women often dyed their teeth black during past decades.

Laughing while walking home.

Children often hung onto streetcars to get around for free.

Taking some cool shots at Thê Húc Bridge.

The small island that holds Ngọc Sơn Temple.

Tram track running through Đồng Xuân area.

Few people could afford any vehicle other than bikes.

Tram chasing was a popular hobby for Hanoian kids.

A two-car tram train.

Swag.

A fruit vendor moving her products using a xích lô ride.

Best friends roaming the downtown together.

Row boats on Hoàn Kiếm Lake.

What took them so long?

A man getting his portrait done on the street.

Reading on the bank of Hoàn Kiếm Lake.

A lady hauling her wicker baskets.

All aboard!

Say cheese!

[Photos by Horst Faas via Flickr user manhhai]

With the changing gears of history, at times even the oldest layers of a thousand-year-old town must evolve to house new meanings.

Once upon a time, Hanoi opened its arms to welcome settlers from distant lands to put down their roots, forming the earliest traces of an urban grid and iconic community landmarks. After many episodes in history, the very walls and roofs that once encapsulated the essence of the people living at the time were left behind, and the original meanings of the structures were gradually replaced.

That is the story behind the hundreds of years of existence of Hội quán Quảng Đông, one of two remaining Hoa Vietnamese guild halls in Hanoi. According to historical texts, since the end of the first millennium, there has been a steady flow of ancient Chinese migrants moving southwards to settle down in the Red River Delta. They came from all walks of life, from merchants, and craftsmen to refugees relocating away from political turbulence and heading to Vietnam to seek new opportunities.

In the 17^th century, a major wave of migration once again headed down south during the Manchu conquest of China. As chronicled in Vũ Trung Tùy Bút, a collection of essays by Phạm Đình Hổ, a small number of Hoa immigrants were given permission to stay in Thăng Long by the Trịnh Lord. They congregated in Hà Khẩu Ward (today’s Hàng Buồm area). Hà Khẩu was based on a patch of land near the Nhị River (Red River today) and Tô Lịch River, making it a fertile land for trade and shipments. It quickly became a buzzing center of trade for Hoa people.

Among the population of Chinese immigrants, Cantonese from Guangdong Province made up the majority thanks to their ample resources. In the second Thăng Long year (1803), they picked the best location on the street to construct a guild hall, a civic space that serves as a community hub for the people. Many activities of the Guangdong people, from business negotiations to household rituals, were carried out there.

The building complex was designed following a traditional configuration. Four connected blocks formed the Chinese character kou (口). Inside stood altars for two deities: Guan Yu and Tianhou. The interior was embellished with intricate ceramic reliefs depicting scenes from historical and mythological tales. The roof featured glazed roof tiles arranged in a yin-yang pattern to encourage the flow of rainwater.

In the 20^th century, Hội quán Quảng Đông bore witness to a number of significant moments in the history of Hanoi. It was no longer just a gathering place of the local community, but a historical venue amid the political exchange of Vietnam and China.

From 1903 to 1904, the guild hall was the accommodation of Sun Yat Sen, who played a key role in the founding of the Republic of China and was influential to the philosophical bearing of Hồ Chí Minh and Phan Bội Châu.

In preparation for the Xinhai Revolution in 1911, Sun resided at Hội quán Quảng Đông for a few years. During his stay, he formed a special bond with the local Chinese community as well as other anti-French organizations in Vietnam. A stele commemorating Sun Yat Sen is still present at the guild hall today.

In 1900–1940, Hanoi was under the French administration, so many of the compound’s original architectural features were removed while other new elements were constructed. These new additions, from materials to design, all showcased French influences. And so, in the middle of a Hoa guild hall, there is a western-style cathedral, Doric columns, and Greek-style olive branch motifs.

After the reunification, a series of disputes over maritime borders and the tightening of the Vietnam-Soviet relationship deepened the rift between Vietnam and China. Many assets and Hoa Kiều matters in Hanoi were gradually placed under the supervision of the state government, including schools, hospitals, and, of course, Hội quán Quảng Đông.

The Vietnam Hoa Kiều Association describes this period as being under the rule of “two governments and two parties.” The friction came to a head with the border war in 1978–1979. Sandwiched between two political powers, much of Hanoi’s Hoa community left their home, leaving a deserted Hàng Buồm Street; even those who stayed, according to historical anecdotes, “couldn’t laugh, stopped trading, and refrained from going outside…”

After 1975 (starting year unknown) until 2018, the hội quán compound was repurposed as a kindergarten. In 2018, the Tuổi Thơ Kindergarten was relocated to 88 Hàng Buồm, returning the site for preservation activities. Photo via Tri Thức & Cuộc Sống.

Without attention from the Hoa community and under the supervision of the kindergarten, the building’s historic architecture was gravely defiled by crude modifications. Local media once described some of these alterations: “The crimson and golden doors with intricate carvings, brought over from Guangdong, were covered in a layer of boorish Đại Bàng paint and [...] brilliantly embossed cement steles were drilled into to install light switches.”

After four decades being drowned out by children’s cacophony, the cultural and architectural values of Hội quán Quảng Đông are slowly being given voice again. In 2018, it was transformed into the 22 Hàng Buồm Culture and Arts Center. Part of the compound is used as an exhibition space. Others host the remaining artifacts to educate visitors about the glorious part of Hanoi’s Cantonese community.

Even with these restoration efforts, the building’s original structure can’t be resurrected, and the place can’t return to its initial use as an authentic guild hall for Hoa Vietnamese. But today, with a well-lit altar and lingering laughter of visitors filling the atmosphere, Hội quán Quảng Đông is once again open, for another purpose: a place where the history, culture, and arts of many communities intersect in a new era.

Làng Cựu, a village about 40 kilometers south of Hanoi, houses nearly 50 mansions that showcase the best of French and Sino-Vietnamese architecture from the turn of the century. It was built with the fortune of the tailors who originated there, and who were once considered to be some of the best garment craftsmen in Tonkin during the French colonial era.

A large mansion in Làng Cựu that reveals the village's once opulent streets. Photo via Lao Động.

Lying dormant south of the capital and oblivious to the fast-paced landscape outside its walls, Làng Cựu at first glance appears to be identical to other model villages in Vietnam. Upon closer look, however, the distinction is clear. The seemingly modest village is home to many century-old mansions with ornate rooftops and columns reminiscent of the old quarters on some of Hanoi’s famed streets.

Mansions currently still standing in the village. Photos via Người Đô Thị and Lao Động.

To unaware travelers, the buildings are merely sources of wonderment. But to their residents, they are sources of identity and pride, as their ancestors were once among the richest and most skillful tailors in Northern Vietnam.  

Humble origins

It all started in 1921. 

After several years of poor harvests and a fire that engulfed Làng Cựu, two brothers, Phúc Mỹ and Phúc Hưng, decided that a change was needed. They gathered everything they had left and set out for the capital in search of better times. Once they arrived, both vowed never to return to the fields again. They instead set foot into the booming suit industry. Starting at the bottom, the brothers frequented French-owned fashion boutiques and earned the tailors’ trust as their primary fabric merchants. However, the brothers aspired to be more. Enthralled by the art of bespoke tailoring, Phúc Mỹ and Phúc Hưng wished to become protégés in exchange for their reliable servitude. Although the tailors were initially skeptical of the brothers' abilities, they quickly accepted them after witnessing their talent and passion for the craft. 

By the mid-1920s, the names Phúc Mỹ and Phúc Hưng were well-known in the couture community, and they finally drew the attention of the dandy officers and nobles, all of whom yearned for a suit made by the two Indochinese tailors. From two unknown merchants in a stranger’s land, they rose to popular tailors to some of Hanoi's most powerful men and women. Their shops naturally grew into a household brand on many main streets, with plans of expansion to Cochinchina being considered. 

Advertisements for tailor shops with the names Phúc or Phú. Photo via Style Republik.

News of the two brothers’ fame and fortune traveled back to their hometown, inspiring many others to abandon the mattocks for threads and needles. By the 1930s, renowned stores such as Phúc Duyên, Phúc Thành and Phú Long were established in many regions, using "Phúc" or "Phú" as their namesake to signify their affiliation with Làng Cựu, and perhaps, the reputation of pioneers Phúc Mỹ and Phúc Hưng. Thus, the “Golden Age” of Làng Cựu as a powerhouse in the bespoke clothing world began. Around this time, many residents had left Làng Cựu for the cities. But some decided to come back and rebuild their hometown by using their personal funds to bring the glory of the capital to the heart of Làng Cựu.

From the remains of the wooden huts, rows of cement mansions rose, each one embellished with Neoclassical-inspired ornaments. The use of Asian symbols and feng shui principles persisted, which resulted in a harmonious blend of eastern and western styles throughout each mansion. Nearby neighborhoods were in awe of the splendor of the new Làng Cựu, and they dubbed it the "western village" — the most beautiful in the Red River Delta.

Culture-blending elements found in Làng Cựu's buildings. Photos via Lao Động.

A harsh decline

In accordance with its inhabitants' prosperity, Làng Cựu's population grew gradually in the years that followed. But as the curtains of the Second World War fell, so did the village's fortune. Despite being the victor, France had suffered greatly in the war which created a knock-on effect on the economy of Indochina. Furthermore, the rise of communist movements throughout the northern countryside meant that anyone who possessed great wealth could be persecuted as alleged collaborators with the French regime. As a result, many tailors were forced to leave their homes once again in order to keep their businesses afloat in the cities and avoid punishment. Some tailors left caretakers behind to maintain ties with Làng Cựu, but most had given up on their hometown. In less than five years later, Làng Cựu had returned to its desolate state. 

Làng Cựu as seen in 2017. Photo via Người Đô Thị.

Làng Cựu’s population never truly recovered from the mass exodus of the 1940s. Only about 500 locals reside in the village today, with most having returned to agricultural means of making a living. The few that still practice tailoring now work in a nearby factory, earning just enough to make ends meet. Since the early 2000s, the villagers have been striving to preserve the remaining mansions, citing their historical importance to the community and to Hanoi. With that knowledge in mind, a team of domestic and international architects has devised plans to restore Làng Cựu in 2020. But two years have passed without a word on when the project will commence.

No entrance, no tour. Photos via Lao Động.

A mixture of emotions can be felt as one enters Làng Cựu today. The serene and enchanting atmosphere will surely excite any visitor who will feel as if they are transported back in time to a period only described in historical books. Walking further down the village’s main road, however, a sense of sadness soon arrives. It is easy to see the ravages of time and negligence upon the most beautiful village in the northern delta. The once-vibrant and -lavish rows of mansions now stand decrepit, and most have been demolished in exchange for the comforts of modern homes. Only about 50 mansions remain to this day, silently seen through locked doorways with no one's return being longed for. 

[Top image via Lao Động]

In the edict to move Vietnam’s capital to Hanoi, Emperor Lý Thái Tổ described this land as the middle of heaven and earth, the center of the four directions. Such a place would bring peace and prosperity, he believed, and deserved sacred protection.

Over the course of the Lý Dynasty, the tradition of worshiping Thăng Long Tứ Trấn, or the Four Sentries of Thăng Long, emerged. These are the four temples dedicated to four deities guarding the cardinal directions of the citadel. 

The Eastern Sentry: Bạch Mã Temple

Located in the heart of the Old Quarter, Bạch Mã Temple is the sentry of the east. It was built in the 9^th century — the oldest temple of Tứ Trấn — to honor the god Long Đỗ, literally the Belly of the Dragon. 

The entrance.

The god Long Đỗ.

Legend has it that when Lý Thái Tổ moved the court to Thăng Long in 1010, he failed to construct a fortress many times. One day, he sent people to pray to the god Long Đỗ, and they saw a white horse walking out from the temple. By tracing the horse’s footsteps and building the fortress accordingly, they finally succeeded. Deeply grateful, the king changed the name of the temple to Bạch Mã, or White Horse, and declared Long Đỗ as the Thành Hoàng, or the One to Bring Abundance, of Thăng Long.

The White Horse with a sun amulet on its side. In Vietnam and many other cultures, worshiping the east is also worshiping the sunrise.

The temple has four main structures. First is a courtyard featuring huge ironwood columns with stunning carvings. The front shrine is dedicated to the White Horse, followed by the mid and back shrine where Long Đỗ himself is honored. 

The courtyard and dedicated carvings.

The front shrine of the White Horse.

The shrines of Long Đỗ.

The Southern Sentry: Kim Liên Temple

Kim Liên is the sacred temple defending the south, here, the god Cao Sơn is worshiped. Cao Sơn was one of the 100 children of Lạc Long Quân and Âu Cơ — the founding legend of the Vietnamese people. He was among the 50 who followed mother Âu Cơ up to the highlands, and he helped Sơn Tinh, the God of the Mountains, defeat Thuỷ Tinh, the God of the Water, and brought peace to the people. 

The entrance within Kim Liên temple with the sign "Southern Sentry."

The temple was built in the 16–17^th century after the capital relocation, making it the youngest of the four. Over time, the people of Kim Liên Village built a cổng tam quan, or a three-entrance gate, right next to the Kim Liên pond. They also added some buildings and turned the temple into a đình, or a communal house, of the village. 

The three-entrance gate of the đình.

The pond in front of the temple.

The most important relic of the temple is a stone epitaph erected in 1510, which was carved with legends of the god Cao Sơn, along with 39 imperial edicts of the Lê and Nguyễn dynasties.

The stone epitaph.

The Western Sentry: Voi Phục Temple

Under the peaceful green canopy of Thủ Lệ Park lies Voi Phục temple, the western sentry. The temple is dedicated to Prince Hoàng Chân, the son of Emperor Lý Thái Tông. He fought against Tống invaders in the 11^th century and died in the battle. To honor him, the king ordered residents to build the Voi Phục Temple, which was named after the two kneeling elephants in front of the temple. 

The design of the roof is in line with the traditional style of ancient pagodas with the tail curved up to the sky, furnished with carvings of spiritual creatures like dragons, unicorns, and phoenixes, etc.

The Northern Sentry: Quán Thánh Temple

Next to West Lake is the sentry of the north: Quán Thánh Temple. Here lies the seat of the god Huyền Thiên Trấn Vũ, who is an important Taoist figure representing the North star.

The gate of Quán Thánh Temple.

As legends go, once there was a nine-tailed fox terrorizing the people. So the god Trấn Vũ came down from heaven and killed the fox. Its body sank to the ground and created West Lake as it is today; this narrative is also why the lake is sometimes called the Xác Cáo (Fox Corpse) Lake.  

An altar with a Tang poem in the background.

The temple has many invaluable relics, including around 40 wood carvings of Tang poems dating back to the 7^th century. There is also a magnificent copper sculpture portraying life activities from the three interlinked worlds: Thiên (sky), Địa (earth), and Thủy (water). 

The copper sculpture hanging from the rafters.

Perhaps most impressive of all, however, is the four-ton, 3.96-meter black copper statue of Huyền Thiên Trấn Vũ at the main altar. According to legend, the statue presents the Taoist god precisely when he reached the highest enlightenment. 

The statue of Huyền Thiên Trấn Vũ.

As befits a place worshiping a god of great martial power, the temple courtyard becomes a dojo in the afternoon.

People honing their martial arts skills at Quán Thánh.

More than 1,000 years have passed since the relocation of the capital, and still the legend of Tứ Trấn remains an iconic part of the city. As long as their stories are still being told, the sentries continue to stand tall to protect this land.

In February, 1995, Yuichi Kobayashi, a Japanese businessman, came to Vietnam with a mission to set up a factory here.

He would live in Hanoi for the next 14 years, with trips back and forth to Japan now and then. In his luggage was always a camera, with which he documented one place that he passed through frequently: Nội Bài Airport.

The airport was named after the village whose land it built on. It welcomed the first international flight in 1978, almost two decades before Kobayashi came here. Through his photos, we can see the Nội Bài of the past, with a smaller space and much more comfortable sofas compared to the metal benches now.

Still, there are things that remain the same, some passengers still need to go to the planes by bus, and the crowd is a mix between those lounging around and those rushing to their gates.

The way to board international flights. Duty-free shops lined this hallway.

In front of the boarding gate. All the sofas have now been replaced by metal benches.

The airport’s terminal. This photo was taken on the upper floor, the international area. The lower floor was reserved for domestic flights.

The buses that will take passengers to the planes. These Tupolev TU-134 vehicles were made by the Soviet Union.

Technicians in front of Vietnam Airlines’ A320 plane.

Vietnam Airlines’ A320 plane. The logo back then was “a stork flying past the full moon.” The lotus logo replaced the stork in 2002.

At this time there were no boarding bridges, all passengers had to go to the plane via buses and stair cars.

[Photos via Redsvn]

Chùa Một Cột, or the One-Pillar Pagoda, is a distinguished structure of Hanoi.

The pagoda was built in 1049, predating all other architectural icons of Hanoi like the Temple of Literature or the Turtle Tower. The pagoda was built after Emperor Lý Thái Tông had a dream that the Guanyin Buddha helped him on a lotus where the Buddha was sitting. The dream inspired the shape of the pagoda, and the structure is also called Liên Hoa Đài, or the Lotus Dais.

The pagoda in 1896. Photo by Firmin André Salles.

In its 1,000 years of existence, Chùa Một Cột has been renovated many times, with perhaps the most extensive one in 1955. One year earlier, somebody blew up the pagoda. Some source said it was one of the last acts of the French before leaving Hanoi, other blamed the Vietnamese. The structure that we have now is the 1955 rebuild by architect Nguyễn Bá Lăng based on the surviving record of the Nguyễn dynasty.   

Artisan Phan Van Khoan draws a picture of the One Pillar Pagoda for embroidery, 1898.

Despite many destructive forces that it has to face thus far — time, weather, explosive — the pagoda is still standing, on its lone pillar, the original from the Lý dynasty. We hope the pagoda will be here for another thousand year, forever being the icon of the capital city.

The pagoda shows signs of deterioration, 1898. Photo by Firmin André Salles.

The pagoda in 1926.

An architectural survey of the pagoda by Trần Quang Trân in 1931.

The pagoda in 1945.

The pagoda in the early 1950s. Photo by Gabriel Monod-Herzen.

The pagoda in the early 1950s. Photo by Gabriel Monod-Herzen.

The pagoda in the early 1950s. Photo by Gabriel Monod-Herzen.

The destruction in 1954.

The rebuild in 1955.

[Photos via Flickr manhhai]

Chaotic streets and bustling markets, Hanoi in the 1950s was not much different than it is now.

Sure there were less cars and motorbikes back then, and the air quality was probably much better. But these black and white photos show that the spirit of the capital is very much the same. Through these photos, one can almost hear the cacophony of life on the streets and feel that familiar sense of being lost in the crowd.

Now with the pandemic, it might be a while before we can feel comfortable being in a crowded street. So instead let’s visit the past, strolling by the Old Quarters and meeting the vendors at Đồng Xuân market through these photos below.

Vendors on Đồng Xuân.

Đồng Xuân Market.

Tràng Tiền Street.

Tràng Tiền, Hàng Bài, Hàng Khay intersection.

Basket weavers.

More basket weavers.

For your woodenware needs.

Blankets for when it’s cold.

Pottery shops.

Offerings for the ancestors.

Pots and pans.

The iconic cone hat.

Phở vendor.

Learning to sew.

Trung Liệt Pagoda.

Street food.

Metalware shop.

[Photos via Flickr user manhhai]

Hanoi has had many names in its life time; among the lesser-known ones is Ke Cho, which literally means "the market people."

This name came to be because Hanoi was — and, to some extent, still is — the market of the Red River delta. Here, traders came to offer their wares and skilled workers their crafts. The essence of Ke Cho didn’t change even when the French took over and Hanoi became the capital of Indochina.

In 1902, Governor-General Paul Doumer wanted to host a large-scaled world expo in Hanoi to “show off Tonkin’s agriculture and industrial products and the cultural artefacts of Indochina and the Far East.” The expo would need a grandiose location as well, thus architect Adolphe Bussy was commissioned to design the Grand Palais of Hanoi, a homage to the one in Paris.

The Grand Palais upon completion in 1902. Photo courtesy of Cochinchine-Saigon.

In Vietnamese, the Palais was called nhà đấu xảo — đấu xảo means "a display of products competing against one another on their level of craftmanship". The Grand Palais complex covered an area of 17 hectares. Upon completion, it hosted the expo for four months, from November 1902 until February 1903. The cost of it all left the city’s budget in deficit for a decade.

After the fair, the Grand Palais became the Maurice Long Museum, the first and largest economics museum in Indochina. The grounds surrounding the exhibition palace served as prime advertising area for companies and businessmen.

When the Japanese took over Vietnam, they turned the Palais into a military base. At the end of World War II, American bombs reduced the buildings to rubble. The only remnants are two bronze lion statues which are now placed in front of the Vietnam Central Circus building in the Reunification Park. At the palace ground now stands the Friendship Cultural Palace, a concert venue built by the Soviet.

The memory of the Grand Palais of Hanoi lives on in photos, some of which are curated below from RedsVN and other sources. We invite you to take a look at the magnificent of time past:

The front gate Grand Palais in 1928.

The main road in front of the Grand Palais.

The display area of Hanoian merchants.

The display area of Annam.

Inside the display area of Annam.

Annam tourism introduction area.

Tourist learning about Annam.

The display area of East India.

Inside the display area of East India.

The display area of Japan.

Bridge built by Tonkin construction company.

Mechanical product display.

Citroën car display.

Agriculture and ceramics products of Cambodia.

Textile products of Cambodia.

Governor-General Robin and his men at the Grand Palais in 1928.

[Top image via Wikimedia]

The capital in 1973 provided many examples of normalcy amidst upheaval. 

Despite dire economic situations and the enduring sorrows of the ongoing war, people in Hanoi attempted to have as normal of lives as possible. They traveled to work, participated in hobbies, studied, and celebrated holidays. This collection of black-and-white photos from 1973 by Associated Press (AP) photographers focuses on the mundane activities of Hanoians.

Take a look below:

The streets are devoid of cars, motorbikes, and trucks.

Bicycle taxis waiting for business downtown.

A woman pauses to pose for a photo on her way to work.

A woman holds a child on a downtown street.

Baskets for sale.

Wooden treetcars operated throughout downtown.

Two children hop on the back of a streetcar for a free ride.

Hang tight!

Streetcar tracks bisect the busy Đồng Xuân market.

Vendors load their goods onto a streetcar.

A man pulls large barrels on his rickshaw.

A worker brings a load of dirt into the city via ox-cart.

A cartload of paper outside a factory.

Elderly women travel through the city by xích lô.

Two young children wander into the street as a bicycle passes.

Woman travels to the market to sell produce.

A young Hanoian in pith helmets smiles for the camera.

Selling hats.

A street artist draws a portrait near Hoàn Kiếm Lake while his daughter watches.

Boating on Hoàn Kiếm Lake.

A man stops in the park to read a newspaper.

The temple on Hoàn Kiếm Lake.

Children pose beside a closed bomb shelter.

Two buddies walking down the street.

Three men waiting on a park bench to observe a passing foreign delegation.

A man cradles his grandchild.

A man stops to read the paper, enjoy a cigarette.

The old and young alike watch a passing foreign delegation.

Two workers aboard a streetcar.

Elderly man stands with the flag of Vietnam.

Children laughing in a market.

A man rocking a very impressive beard.

Three ladies off to the market.

Children going home from school.

All smiles now that classes are over.

A young lad skipping down the street.

Boys improvise a table-tennis game with a park bench, bricks and square boards.

Children surrounded by rubble from a bomb strike the year before.

Streets lined with children waiting to see a foreign delegation pass.

A small child with a snack.

[Photos via Flickr user manhhai]

With Tết less than a month away, now is probably the time to ramp up shopping trips, cleaning tasks and home decoration efforts.

It's comforting to know that we can depend on the lunar new year to be a special time to get in touch with our cultural roots for these customs have managed endured decades of change. As shown in this fun-packed collection of old Hanoi photos from 1955 (year of the goat), past generations shared a lot of our favorite things about Tết: going to the market, making bánh chưng, and sweet treats. They're the things that ground us every holiday season.

Hanoi Opera House.

The Thủ Đô Cineplex on phố Lương Văn Can.

A Tết market session at Đồng Xuân Market.

Packets of sweet Tết treats.

An orange vendor.

Carps sold as altar offering.

A blood pudding vendor.

Candied fruits.

Wine and lạp xưởng.

A range of pet fish for sale.

A butcher with some of the day's fresh pork cuts.

Vermicelli.

A range of winterwear.

A man with his trầu cau box display.

More carps for sale.

A poster shop boasting a selection prints of communist leaders.

Stewing pots.

A lady picking bouquets of gladiolus.

Tết paintings in Đông Hồ style.

Sticks of dry prawns.

Picking pots of chrysanthemum.

Ông đồ working on calligraphy.

Oh no, Peppa!

Candied fruits and other sweets.

A calligrapher working on Nôm posters.

An altar offering with prepared dishes and two pots of kumquats.

Another set of altar offerings with live carps in the pot.

Tying up bánh chưng before boiling.

Compressing bánh chưng.

Preparing to boil a batch of bánh chưng.

Now is the time for patience.

A festival at Trung Liệt Pagoda to commemorate the Ngọc Hồi-Đống Đa victory.

Swinging, but make it hardcore. At the Temple of Literature.

Entering the Trung Liệt Pagoda.

A festival procession.

[Photos via Flickr user manhhai]

For thousands of years, streets have served a multitude of purposes.

While originally designed to facilitate the basic movement of people and goods upon the advent of wheeled transportation, roads have evolved to serve diverse purposes in busy cities. Nowhere is this more evident than in Vietnam. Sure, people use them to get from place to place, often ferrying products or materials; but they also serve as areas to sell food and gather for coffee with friends and a means for companies to advertise their latest products. 

A streetcar on Hang Dao Street.

These photos taken in Hanoi in 1940 by American photographer Harrison Forman may feature people traveling on roads in different attire compared to today, while rickshaws and streetcars stand in for motorbikes and buses, and the commercial signs announce products that no longer exist, but their place in the city remains little changed. They may have been renamed in the years since, but their spirit remains the same. 

Have a look at the black-and-white avenues below:

Hang Gai and Hang Dao intersection.

Ads line Cau Go Street.

Streetcar tracks down Hang Dao Street.

Pho Hang Bac.

The China Cinema, now Golden Bell Theater on Hang Bac Street.

Folks gather on the side of Hoan Kiem Lake.

Multilingual street signs.

Hang Trong Street near the lake.

A flower stand beside the lake.

The road circling the lake.

The entrance of what was Dau Cau Station and today is Long Bien Station.

A bomb shelter under construction.

A bomb shelter near Cau Chay wharf.

Gasoline barrels in transport. 

The entrance to Long Bien Bridge.

Signs indicating distances from Long Bien Bridge. 

Women entering the city via the Long Bien Bridge.

Timber collected in the foreground of the Long Bien Bridge.

A gas station near Long Bien Bridge. 

City gas station.

What would become Trang Tien Plaza.

Trang Tien Street.

Hanoi Opera House. 

The intersection of Paul Bert Street and Francis Garnier Avenue (present Dinh Tien Hoang Street).

The intersection before the Hanoi Opera House.

The beginning of Paul Bert Street with Hoan Kiem Lake in the distance. 

The meeting of Paul Bert and Boissière (Nguyen Xi today). 

A blind man plays music on the street.

A new neighborhood in Hanoi.

Lottery tickets for sale.

Hang Khay Street.

Ford Motors headquarters building. 

Child labor at a gas station.

A man cycles past Vien Dong Trading and Maritime Company.

Hang Tre Street. 

[Photos via RedsVN]

More often than not, a country’s independence is won with guns. The location where the first shots were fired for Vietnam is memorialized to this day.

Tucked at the end of a small alleyway, Pháo đài Láng, or Fort of Lang, is surrounded by houses and apartment buildings. With no venerable battlement, the only structures here are a small memorial hall and a nondescript artillery mount.

The artillery, a 75mm anti-aircraft gun, is set in concrete at the center of a hollow mount where a stone plaque reads: “At 20:03 on December 19, 1946, Pháo đài Láng fired the first shots at the French army in the Hanoi Imperial Citadel, beginning the nationwide Resistance War. This was one of the two guns of the fort back then — a memorial for the ‘Brave Death for the survival of the Fatherland’ spirit of the people of Hanoi.”  

The last gun at Pháo đài Láng. Photo by Linh Pham.

The place that heralded Vietnam’s Resistance War was built by the French in 1940. Upon taking the land from the people of Lang Trung Village (now Lang Thuong, Dong Da District), they erected the pháo đài to ward off Japanese air attacks. After the August Revolution in 1945, the Việt Minh, or League for the Independence of Vietnam, claimed the fort.

On June 29, 1946, the Pháo đài Láng platoon was formed, led by Nguyễn Ứng Gia. However, they lacked equipment. Though a place meant to specialize in long-range artillery, they did not have a sighting device, binoculars, or even a radio. Gia had to borrow things like a tapeline from a tailor and a compass from a geomancer.

The compass used at the fort. Photo by Linh Pham.

One day, General Võ Nguyên Giáp came to visit the fort. Lieutenant Gia reported: “Without sighting equipment, we drew a circle on cardboard and marked the degrees. Then we put the cardboard on a map to find firing directions.” General Giáp replied, “Comrades, you must be more creative. When needed, you can lower the barrel and fire directly at the incoming enemies. But always remember to maintain and protect the weapon.”

Between 1945 and 1946, Vietnam and France struggled to redefine their relationship. The former wanted its independence recognized, while the latter wanted to protect its interests in Indochina. Tensions built with events like the Hai Phong incident, which left 6,000 Vietnamese civilians dead and eventually, all negotiations failed, leading to the inevitable war.

On the morning of December 19, 1946, France's General Morlière issued an ultimatum — the third one within two days — demanding Vietnamese forces disarm and concede Hanoi. The Vietnamese rejected the ultimatum and decided that the time had come for open conflict. That afternoon, the fort received the order: “Tonight, Pháo đài Láng will fire first. Order from above: at 20:00, our forces will bomb the Yen Phu power plant, lights will go out in the city.”

Caption: Artillery formation in Lang, Hanoi ready to fire on French troops. Photo by Linh Pham.

In an interview with An Ninh Thu Do, Đỗ Văn Đa, a member of the Pháo đài Láng platoon, reminisced about that day when the war began. “I still remember clearly, the afternoon of December 19, 1946, Gia told us, ‘Comrades, have early dinner tonight, afterward, get to your positions and await orders.’ It was a freezing winter night. We, the village boys from outside of Hanoi, more used to planting rice than holding guns, were so nervous. We could not imagine what battle would be like. At 20:03, the city plunged into darkness, Gia commanded: ‘Fire!’ For the first time, I got to hear the furious roar of ông Voi (Mr. Elephant, the gun’s nickname). My ears were numb but I didn’t stop reloading. Three bouts, six rounds, soared away. It was so cold but we sweated like pigs.”

The fort’s target was the French command complex in the Hanoi Imperial Citadel. But without a radio, they didn’t know if their rounds found their mark or not. It wasn’t until noon the next day that reports came in. “We were like kids,” Đa said. “Overwhelmed with joy when the scouts reported that we hit the targets in the citadel. The mothers and sisters bringing us food were also happy.”

“The next night, the French fired at us,” Đa continued. “Shells hit the village, houses were burnt, people died and were wounded. But the supply squad still brought food to the fort. The steaming rice was warm with the love of the people. On December 21, we shot down a plane. Comrade Võ Nguyên Giáp sent a letter of compliment: ‘To praise the spirit of the soldiers at the fort.’ Contributing to the feat of ông Voi are the people of Lang Trung Village, feeding us and maintaining the guns.”

People of Lang Trung supporting Pháo đài Láng, oil on canvas. Photo by Linh Pham.

The conflict that Mr. Elephant started would become known as the Battle of Hanoi, the opening salvo of the anti-French Resistance War. This battle would also be his last. After 60 days of fighting, the Việt Minh withdrew from the city and prepared for a prolonged war. On January 11, 1947, Đa’s platoon received orders to disable the guns and retreat to Ha Dong.

More than 70 years have passed since those days of smoke and shells. Now, the only things falling on Pháo đài Láng are autumn leaves. Đỗ Đức Thành, the caretaker, tells Urbanist Hanoi that sometimes he has to sweep 40 kilograms of leaves a day. And in this time of peace, the fort faces a new kind of foe: poor urban planning. A road construction project is threatening to cut this national historic site in half. Hopefully, ông Voi will be protected this time.

Can you imagine daily life before electricity, light bulbs, plastics, refrigerators, antibiotics, automobiles and telephones?

We take these inventions for granted, rarely stopping to wonder what the world, and thus our experiences and thoughts, would be like without them. Today, it would be impossible to avoid them in Hanoi even if one wanted to, so the closest we can get to that alternate reality is to look at old photos.

Rue Paul Bert, now Trang Tien Street was Hanoi's most elegant colonial street at the time.

These images taken by French photographer Raphaël Moreau from 1890 to 1895 give a glimpse of what the capital was like as the world was teetering on the edge of a century of momentous innovations that would forever change the human race. Moreau owned a business on Dong Khanh Avenue (now Hang Bai) in Hanoi back then.

Rickshaws and simple sampans represent the common means of travel, while the city's skyline rises little higher than two-story colonial homes. Neither the rich grasping extravagant fans to parade down the streets nor the commoners clamoring along the banks of the Red River lead lives that we can possibly relate to.

Have a look at these photos and reflect on how drastic the human experience has changed in 130 years, and the incredible qualities of the human species that allow us to adapt in only a few generations.

Hoan Kiem Lake complete with its Statue of Liberty.

Thai Ha Hamlet in current-day Hanoi's Dong Da District.

A procession down the streets of Hanoi.

Giay Village, better known among Vietnamese as Ke Buoi, home to a famous traditional paper-making industry.

People along the banks of the Red River.

The section of the Red River that the Long Bien Bridge now spans.

[Photos via RedsVN]

Taken by an unknown photographer working for the American Department of Defense, these crisp color images capture Hanoi’s 1973 street life on film. Have a look below.

The Ngo Quyen-Trang Tien intersection.

Hanoians waiting to get inside the Cong Nhan Theater for a performance by the Kim Phung cải lương troupe.

Pho Trang Tien.

A Hanoi woman with her children.

A section of the tramway network (now defunct) in front of the Thang Long Water Puppet Theater.

At a tramway stop.

Morning coffee for a multi-generational family.

Preparing fresh flowers for the altar.

Young kids at a kindergarten in Nghi Tam.

Bikes, white shirts, and pants were the common life necessities of the time.

"Nothing is more valuable than independence and freedom."

The entrance of the General Store on Trang Tien.

On the banks of Hoan Kiem Lake.

At Gia Lam Airport.

A member of the Ho Chi Minh Young Pioneer Organization with her friend.

A young boy wearing a tarp as a raincoat.

A building at the Dien Bien Phu-Hang Bong corner.

A toothy smile.

Traditional musicians and singers during a performance.

Ongoing bridge construction.

[Photos via Flickr user manhhai]

Today, Hoan Kiem Lake has no lantern-lifting Statue of Liberty that people fish beside, Russian naval ships don't moor in the Red River, and nón lá hardly cover every head in the capital.

But they once did. This set of photos taken by an un-credited photographer for an 1890s French publication showcase Hanoi's less developed, more agrarian past as colonialism was ramping up its efforts to transform the city both visually and culturally.

Yet for all the differences between then and now, the monochrome snapshots contain elements people today will recognize, including large buildings next to Paul Bert Square (near modern Tràng Tiền Street), the Láng Pagoda and, of course, the hustle and bustle of a street strewn with shoppers preparing for a coming holiday. 

Nostalgia is an act of imagination, and thus can one be nostalgic for a time they never actually experienced? Certainly one can be thankful for not having lived through a certain time period. Your response to the photos, as always, is up to you. 

New buildings and roads.

Inside the mansion of the Governors-General of French Indochina.

Lang Pagoda.

Two village leaders.

A group of local militants.

On the bank of Hoan Kiem Lake.

One of the earliest buildings that the French administration constructed in Hanoi, which is now part of the Hanoi People's Committee complex.

An open-air market.

Hanoian fish in Hoan Kiem Lake.

Inside a factory.

Officers of the Russian cruiser Zabiaca and their family pose before the building that would later become the Grand Palais de l'Exposition.

[Photos via RedsVN]

On a day like any other in November 1994, some Hanoians might have been curious about the fact that their shop front and daily routine were being photographed by a wandering Japanese man.

None of the people photographed, and perhaps not even the man himself, realized that almost two decades later, he would return to the Southeast Asian country as the Ambassador of Japan to Vietnam Fukada Hiroshi.

According to the Embassy of Japan in Vietnam, Hiroshi held the position from 2013 to 2016. Before arriving in Vietnam, he was assigned to Senegal. His photos of Hanoi street scenes, shot on film, showcase a capital that, surprisingly, has remained resistant to the forces of change. 1994 street fashion, however, was a far cry from the styles of today, but the busyness of shops and street food vendors seems comfortingly consistent.

Walk the street of Hanoi in 1994 through Fukada Hiroshi’s lens below:

Xích lô and bicycles fill the streets.

A picture shop in Cau Go.

In a dark teal velvet suit, the owner of a votive paper shop calls out to potential customers.

An artist/photography studio.

A row of new Honda Super Cubs at a street food stall.

Phố Cổ from above.

Votive papers on Hàng Mã.

Look! It's Mr. Hiroshi.

For those with a sweet tooth.

A young Hanoian girl.

Students riding home after school in áo dài.

[Photos by Fukada Hiroshi via Redsvn]

What draws us towards the spectacle that is old photos?

The most obvious, but rather simplistic, answer would be nostalgia — that sense of silvery yearning that one harbors for the entities of their past, be it a place, a person, or even, at times, entire cities and towns. That, however, won’t be sufficient in explaining why sometimes we are fascinated by the visual proofs of a time even before our existence.

There’s something both surreal and hyper-realistic about these black-and-white shots of Hanoi taken by Iranian photographer Abbas. The Paris-based photojournalist is known worldwide thanks to his career spent deeply involved in our history’s most tumultuous moments, from the Iranian Revolution to the war in Vietnam.

Abbas’ photos of 1975 Hanoi, rendered in monochrome, take on a dreamlike quality as if one’s sneaking a peek into a stranger’s memories, especially for those of us who were born well after the era. The sights, clothing, lifestyle, and more must feel like coming home for the few who lived through the time.

Take a trip down memory lane through Abbas’ snapshots of Vietnam taken in 1975 below:

Hai Phong Port in 1975.

Local militants practice tossing grenades in Thai Binh.

A meeting between officials of a commune in Thai Binh.

Students learning to handle firearms in Thai Binh.

Inside a weaving cooperative in Thai Binh.

Keo Pagoda in Thai Binh.

Hanoi's The Huc Bridge.

A schoolgirl does her homework next to Hoan Kiem Lake.

At a construction project for a tenement.

Workers at the job site.

A gathering of aquarium enthusiasts at Thong Nhat Park.

Portrait photography at Thong Nhat.

The local youth committee practices marching at the park.

The Christmas Mass at St. Joseph's Cathedral in Hanoi.

The remnants of a B-52 on display at the Hanoi Zoo.

A bomb shelter doubles as a playground for Hanoi children.

Inside the Vietnam Museum of Revolution.

A soldier in Da Nang takes a rest.

[Photo via Redsvn]

History buffs from the rest of the country might find the night tour an opportunity to observe the storied historical site from a different perspective.

As Vietnam continues to bar foreign tourists from entering the country to minimize COVID-19 spread, tourist destinations across the nation now face a new challenge to stay afloat relying only on domestic demand.

In a bid to attract more visitors, Hanoi’s Hoa Lo Prison Museum has launched a new night tour, offering spectators a chance to browse the site during twilight. The campaign is a joint effect between the location’s management board and Hanoitourist Travel Agency, reports Tuoi Tre.

Tours are conducted with guidance from museum staff and are open for any participant older than 16, though they are advised to dress conservatively to comply with site rules. Guests are also not allowed to use mobile phones, take pictures or record videos.

The tour, titled “Sacred Night — Glorious Vietnamese Spirit,” will take visitors through the main gates, dark cellars, and blocks for male prisoners, female prisoners, and political prisoners.

Guests can sign up for tours from July 24 on Friday, Saturday or Sunday nights, each starting at 7pm and lasting 45 minutes.

Hoa Lo, as the prison is known among locals, is named after the coal-fired stoves sold on streets surrounding the structure. The prison was built by the French administration and opened in 1886 to jail anti-French revolutionaries. The complex was called Maison Centrale (Central House) by the French; the name is still present today above the entrance gate. American prisoners of war, however, gave it the sarcastic moniker “Hanoi Hilton.”

In 1990, Hoa Lo was shut down, with most of its buildings demolished to make room for real estate projects. The main gate was kept and converted into a museum.

The new tour is among a range of measures the Hanoi Department of Tourism is taking to boost heritage tourism among domestic tourists, as it seeks to actualize the goal of welcoming 11 million travelers by the end of the year.

From January to May, the capital only collected US$715 million from tourism, a sharp decline compared to the same period last year. This slump is mainly attributed to the coronavirus pandemic.

[Photo via Flicker user Matthias Rosenkranz]

No skim milk and saltine parties here.

By 1950, France was able to exert considerable colonial influence on Hanoi's commerce and architecture. Their bicycles and jeeps drove down wide avenues, beneath buildings featuring their nation's namesake shutters. Vietnamese of varying classes and westernization existed on the margins of open-air coffee shops where the French sipped cognac and prattled about politics. 

These photos were taken by American photographer and journalist Harrison Forman. His impressive career, which focused largely on China, included being one of the first westerners to visit Tibet, in addition to interviewing Mao Zedong. The diaries of Forman's career and 50,000 photographs are stored at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee's digital photography archives.

Take a peek at the patrician proceedings below:

[Photos via Flickr user manhhai]

The French aimed to remake Hanoi in Paris' image via elaborate architecture and infrastructure projects.

Spending a small fortune on imported building materials and significantly less on local laborers, the French made drastic changes to the aesthetics of the capital city. Wide avenues, massive bridges, towering villas, factors flaunting the newest technologies and carefully manicured parks were all built so as to make colonists more comfortable in Hanoi.

These photos from 1916 reflect how far drastically they transformed areas of the city. And while some of the edifices, such as the Cathedral, remain today, many others crumbled. The collection of images presents a seemingly idyllic view of Hanoi, but remember, while the French were planting trees to provide shade to the rickshaws moving on peaceful on its streets, the sewers were overflowing with rats and locals were suffering under the yoke of imperialism.

Have a look below: 

[Photos via Flickr user manhhai]