The King of Cyclos

 – In a rapidly developing modern city, the cyclo acts as a unique reminder of the past.

Van Nguyen talks to the King of Cyclos, Do Anh Thu, to discover more about his quintessentially Vietnamese occupation.

Walking me through his cyclo parking lot in Tran Quang Khai Sreet, 65-year-old Do Anh Thu tells of how, during the 1990s, cyclos were used mainly for transporting firewood, coal, or stone.

These days however, cyclos have become a fun means of transportation for tourists on a sightseeing trip around Hanoi.

“They cannot walk on foot all day and the taxi fee is too costly, that’s why an affordable and unique cyclo is their top choice,” Thu says before introducing me to some of his colleagues.

“Nobody wants to be a cyclo driver and neither did I,” the ‘king’ shares. “But I think as long as we aren’t doing anything illegal, even the most trivial jobs deserve respect.”

“I usually suggest to tourists that when they want to go somewhere, whether it is a historical site, a street restaurant, or a bar or club, they should ask a cyclo driver because they know everything!” Thu laughs.

The switch

Graduating in the early 1970s from Hanoi Pedagogical University, one of the best universities in Vietnam at that time, Thu received a diploma in history and was eager to become a teacher.

His profile was sent to the Ministry of Education, which is responsible for assigning teachers to schools around the country. After three years, he had not received a single job offer.

Thu tutored history students to get by, but in those days, literature and mathematics were the sought-after subjects, whilst there was little demand for history tutors. “It was a very difficult time for me and my family because the money from teaching was not sufficient,” Thu recalls.

Though he faced strong opposition from the elders of his family who were all professors, doctors or engineers, Thu decided to buy a cyclo after first persuading his wife.

“At that time, a cyclo cost two gold units-about VND7 million (US$321) at the current rate. We could only afford half of it and had to borrow the rest from friends. I only intended to drive a cyclo to earn some money while waiting for a job offer. I thought that once I found a job, I would sell the cyclo immediately.”

After making this bold decision, Thu’s family’s life rapidly improved. “Just by taking a few customers, I could earn enough to give my wife money to buy food and sometimes just the tips from foreign tourists would give me enough to feed my family for a week,” he says.

Sanc Souci

After many years of working the streets, Thu earned the trust of his customers. “My clients always recommend me to their family and friends when they visit Vietnam because I know a little English and French. I often spend weeks driving a customer around, so even though I receive many calls from hotels, I am often too busy to take the work they offer,” Thu says.

In the past, when he was too busy, Thu would pass jobs to his friends. “They were very happy and often I had a group of ten-fifteen other drivers following me, so that if I had any offers of work, I could call upon them immediately,” he says.

“Cyclo riders are usually poor but honest and hardworking farmers. We treat each other like family and it was my honour to give them chances to earn more money,” he adds.

The name Sans Souci, which means ‘no worries’, was created in a group meeting on Hanoi’s busy pavements. “I remember when we parked by Hoan Kiem lake, there were many unnamed cyclos. Ours stood out, with our name painted brightly. Many tourists wanted to take pictures, tipping each driver US$1 for the privilege.”

Thu explains that the name Sans Souci originates from the fact he would often comfort worried customers by saying ‘sans souci’, meaning ‘no worries’. “The name is essentially our promise to give tourists a safe journey,” he explains.

Unfortunately for Thu and his fellow drivers, the Vietnamese Government officially banned cyclo activity as part of Decision 12/2001/QD-UB. This new law gravely affected many cyclo drivers, whose families were reliant upon their incomes.

“After reading through the Decision thoroughly, I found that every cyclo was banned with the exception of touring ones. As a result, I came up with the idea of founding a cyclo tourism company so that our jobs would be legalised,” Thu says with pride.

Thus, in 2002, the Sans Souci cyclo touring company was founded. “Upon holding the license in my hands, I felt like the savior of my fellow cyclo drivers,” Thu recalls with obvious joy.

“Many of them burst into tears when I gave them the papers. It gave them the freedom to pedal around their capital city without any concerns for the law,” Thu says.

These days, Hanoi has about 265 cyclos, of which 95 belong to Sans Souci and the remainder run under the banner of companies like Huy Phong, Lam Anh and Van Hoa.

Improving service

For Thu, the language barrier is usually the biggest problem tourists face. However, with Sans Souci cyclo drivers, this is not an issue. “I am lucky that I know a little French and English, which helps me to communicate with tourists,” says Thu.

“I have printed out some basic sentences such as ‘Hello, where do you want to go?’ and numbers in English and French and given them to my drivers to study so that they can hold simple but useful conversations with visitors.”

Thu has also designed various kinds of tours, including 30-minute, 60-minute, half-day and full-day tours. “The tour that I am most proud of sadly can not be taken anymore. I used to drive visitors on cyclos to the other side of Duong river and then transfer them to cow carts. They really loved sightseeing on this rustic transportation.”

He says that in order to be a good cyclo driver, you must be healthy, friendly, and humble. In the company’s regulations there is a clause stating that if a driver begs visitors for money in any way he will be fired immediately. “If you enjoy begging, you can quit this job and become a beggar,” Thu states firmly.

However, a friendly, funny and knowledgeable cyclo driver will always be tipped-in fact, Thu recalls one occasion when a driver in his company was tipped US$100.

-Time Out    

The versatile calabash

No 3, Vol.9 , August  - September 2015 For generations, dry calabashes (gourds) have become a part of the material and spiritual life of the Ma people. Unlike the sweet ones, old bitter calabash husks are thick, tough and nicely shaped. Some have a slender waist in the middle with two naturally round, connected compartments above and beneath it. Some look like a bottle and are very convenient for making utensils. So Ma people grow a lot of bitter calabash. They leave the fruits to grow hard on the fields, then collect them, cut the stalk and shake the seeds out. The husks are soaked in a creek for a week or two for the inside to decompose. Then, they clean the inside and hang the husks over the kitchen to let them harden more and gain a yellow-brown colour. In Ma families, everybody has their own water gourd. Women and girls take care not to let the gourds go empty. Calabash gourds are very convenient to carry through steep mountain passes to get water home. The largest ones, with a round tummy and more or less flat base, are used for storage. The round, middle-sized ones can be cut to make bowls for meals. Dry gourds can also be used to store corn, beans, and calabash and pumpkin seeds. Like many other ethnicities, The Ma also use husks to make blow pipes, a musical instrument. It’s a multi-part pipe, consisting of six bamboo tubes of different lengths, arranged into two rows (four at the top, two at the bottom), that are driven through the husk, which serves as the sound amplifier. To have a beautiful blow pipe, the Ma select a nice round-shaped husk with a long neck, a little bent near the stalk, which is where they blow. They cut holes on the husk’s tummy to drive the tubes in, and then seal the holes with bees’ wax to make them air tight. Blow pipes can accompany songs or be part of an orchestra to perform in festive occasions. They are also a very common means for young men to show their affection for the lady of their heart. The husk gourds are present in all Ma spiritual ceremonies, too. They are used to hold wine and animal blood offered to the gods. Husks that are used for this purpose are usually small and shiningly black-lacquered with a kind of forest leaf.n

Text and photos by Thanh Binh

Pop culture on a stick

No 3, Vol.9 , August  - September 2015 - Sourse: Vietnam Heritage Magazine Tò he. Photo: Bui Xuan Thuy Artisan Nguyen Van Thanh, chairman of the trade association of Xuan La, has made a lot of contributions to the development of the Xuan La trade village, the only village of Vietnam with the tò he trade. Born in Xuan La Village, Phuong Truc Commune, Phu Xuyen District, Hanoi, where traditionally everybody made tò he, Mr Thanh learnt to make basic figures from coloured starch when he was three. Seven-year-old Mr Thanh already made colourful animals for his parents to sell. He knows how to cook the starch to make the colour mix most glistening, to produce the most eye-catching tò he. So, tò he followed him to his university’s auditoriums. With a tool box containing starch, a small knife, some bamboo sticks, some wax, a comb and a spongy box, Mr Thanh goes to make and sell tò he every Saturday. His magic fingers transform coloured starch into lively figurines, fascinating children and adults alike. Artist Nguyen Van Thanh receiving a certificate of contribution to development of Xuan La trade village in 2014. Photo: www.tohexuanla.vn After graduation, Mr Thanh took a job in his home town and continued preserving his ancestral trade. A dynamic individual, he quickly found the tastes of different clienteles. Old people love the cakes he kneads, farmers ask him to make buffaloes, soil picks, ploughs, theatrical figures and national heroes such as the Trung Sisters, Lady Trieu, Le Loi and Quang Trung. Young people want roses, teddy bears, zodiac animals and cartoon characters such as Tom and Jerry, Superman and the Monkey King. And so he has been making tò he for the past 21 years of his life. In 2009, Mr Thanh and other artisans like him established a cultural heritage association and traditional trade club of Xuan La Village with 54 members and him as the chairman. Now the membership includes 119 people. On 27 October, 2011, Mr Thanh won one of the three highest prizes in tò he-making competition during the first festival of traditional trade villages of Phu Xuyen District. He made King Ly Thai To and Phoenix on a Lotus in only about 30 minutes. In 2012, Mr Thanh launched tohexuanla.vn website to promote his own tò he figurines and Xuan La’s traditional trade to tourists near and far. In 2014, he was invited by the Vietnam Centre of Culture and Arts of the Ministry of Culture to participate in cultural exchanges of the peoples of ASEAN in Thailand and China. His cute and lively tò he have become unique gifts, a typical symbol of the charming Vietnamese culture for the ASEAN delegations. Mr Thanh is often invited to lecture, show and teach the art of tò he making in restaurants and schools. He is also a regular presenter, showing how to make tò he in the Creative Corner program on TV. Mr Thanh said, ‘Tò he kneading is very educational. It helps kids develop creativity, mind fluidity and links the abstract and the concrete.’ All children love the tò he, not only Vietnamese. His deepest concern is that his members still can’t earn a living by the trade. Each of them only makes 2,5 – 3 millions a month and has to sell other toys too. Xuan La villagers only make tò he in festive occasions during Spring, and do other things for the rest of the year. Many families only do it for fun and for the sake of preservation of ancestral values.n

By Ha Ngan

Small fish, big dreams

No 3, Vol.9 , August  - September 2015 (Vietnam Heritage) It’s quite a fuss at 7 a.m. on Hon Ro harbour in Nha Trang. Mr Dinh Van Bay’s boat has just come back after six hours of pulling his net at sea. Mr Bay urges his men to shake the anchovies from the net to give them to the dry-fish export businesses. They hang the net and used cloth-wrapped bats to beat the fish stuck on it down into big bamboo baskets and then take them ashore. Unlike seasonal fishes, you can fish for anchovy the whole year round, Mr Bay said. Yet the best time to do it is from February to August. On a lucky night, he can catch nearly a ton of anchovy. In bad weather, he may get only 50 kg. The fish and the trucks of processing facilities came to shore at the same time. Following Mr Bay’s instructions, I came to Mr Mai Thanh Quyen’s fish-steaming shop at Cua Be fish bazaar in Vinh Truong Commune. It smelled fishy all around. In the shop, about 40 workers were busy cleaning and steaming the fish. Tons of fresh fish are always coming and they have to be processed right away to retain freshness and sweet taste. According to Ms Dao Thi Phuong, to have good quality, the fish has to be very fresh, cleaned carefully, steamed moderately, dried quickly, and kept in good storage. As it arrives, they put a single layer of fish on a gridiron, dip into water and shake it softly to avoid crushing the fish. Then the gridirons are put in an autoclave for three to five minutes to steam. Then the gridirons are loaded on a wheelbarrow to be transported out to ‘tan’. By the afternoon, the fish is already crispy dry. Mr Mai Thanh Quyen said his family has been doing this for nearly 20 years. Before that, his family was in fish sauce business, like most others in Vinh Truong. Realizing that steam fish business could bring extra income and create jobs for others, he invested boldly and made new connections. Now his Hanh Quyen steamed-anchovy-for-export business is a robust name, known near and far. ‘Actually this business is not much more profitable than fish sauce-making, but it creates many more jobs for the locals. Beside this one, our family has five other facilities, each gives job to about 30 workers with an income of over VND100,000/day/person.’ ‘Nowadays the steam fish facilities pay VND25,000 - VND30,000/kg for anchovy, much higher than the fish sauce businesses. Just catch 500 kg a time, you get over 10 million. But sometimes the export is stalled, and you can only bring the fish to the bazaar or to the fish sauce-making shops. Sometimes the loss is too great and I prefer to stay home, not going out to the sea,’ Mr Dinh Van Bay said. Dried steamed anchovy is exported mostly to Taiwan and China, but the price is not stable. ‘Low yield, high price, high yield, low price, fish business has this dilemma too. The usual price for our finished product is $7/kg, but sometimes they press it down to just $2/kg,’ Mr Mai Thanh Quyen said. Stable output is a dream of the steamed fish shop owners.

Text by Vinh Thanh and photos by Tran Hai Binh