Pottery, fabrics,
wood carvings, brass, stone carvings, ethnic dances ... The art in Vietnam is
combined in countless ways, the rhythm of the richness and diversity of the
many ethnic minorities. What have you dizzy or shopping spree!
Impossible to miss the turning of a shopping street in the district these 36 corporations shops proudly display their membership of ethnic business. They differ from their counterparts, banal souvenir shops, with that stamp of authenticity that they have to fly: the hemp fabric with their colorful, hanging on hangers bamboo, old brass gongs green- of gray that move gently after strings of raffia, wicker trays that stack in a studied nonchalance, necklaces and earrings with matt silver glass beads on rickety wooden sticks painted ... It has a false air of the flea market where synthetic has no place. When you first walk inside, it is expected to be received by one of his old women in their mouths reddened by betel, wearing indigo linen, who crouched in a corner wait with patience millennium these people we deign take our choice of one of these objects from distant valleys ... I must admit that I rarely enters this type of shop: the traditional art of ethnic minorities comes home, it's not really my cup of Tea!
Tradition obliges!
This is going to meet these minorities that I love to discover these crafts that have survived centuries, attached to the daily lives of our ancestors, and which for many are still commercial products. Now, to find traditional products, what better than to go to market! And on this, I have an incredible opportunity: Vietnam is the country market. Cultural little reminder ...
Vietnam is a country of tradition sedentary rice. Whole life was, and still is in the countryside, organized around the rice, the cereal nourishing. But to be full, it is necessary for rice chests are full, and that the coffers are full, must grow thick ears, and ears that grow thick, take care of them continuous , with great blows of elbow grease. However, the greater the elbows, was more elbow grease. And to be sure to have lots of bends, it is best to avoid a pair or more will want to look elsewhere if the rice from a nearby village is greener than ours. And precisely where everything you need on hand, the remaining pairs of elbows with your hands! So, not every little village has its market that could be jealous of our pale supermarkets Township West ...
Vietnamese market, we find everything you need to be born, live, work and die in the village! And even more in the mountain villages that attract every morning as the light of a lantern grabs butterflies, many residents of small villages clinging to adrets or Ubacs, according! There are even larger markets than others, smarter too, who have proclaimed themselves "ethnic market" and that, in a thorough understanding of basic marketing concepts, such as are sold in catalogs for a nostalgic past with all the guarantees of safety and comfort of modernism ...
Richness of the soul!
These markets, I find them on a dirt road crosses so capricious that only intrepid unconscious or borrow. They are hidden under the roofs of boards and sheets, black caves, poorly lit a few rays of sunlight which penetrate between the interstices of the curtains ...
By the time I write this, I am reminded in this market countries H'mong, in a town where time forgot, every time I stop the wheels of my bike, I am greeted by " Ong Tay tro lai "and slaps on the back, followed by" Bat tay "(shake hands with us)," Chuc may man "(Good Luck!), with all that the village has children three months to six years! Here, the freshness conducive old worm-eaten planks, I have fun unfold the full skirts pleated hemp weaving and embroidery decorated with geometric patterns, I like to stick my fingers in the big balls of colored wool, I like rummaging through the piles of bags of linen embroidered patchwork, I play with the big necklaces and earrings hammered silver. Sometimes I find an unlikely "Khen" (syrinx) which neighbor with an old drum skin. No doubt some mountain that will have sold its musical instrument to buy food or tobacco ...
This is where I like traditional art, a living art that breathes away from museums where it is sometimes naturalized! And just to breathe is also sing, dance, move, live! I remember that evening when Tuan and I were lost in the Central Highlands. Too late to arrive in a city where we could find a hotel. This is a small village that welcomed us. We had permission to stay overnight. The presence of a stranger was, again, so rare that it had been the occasion of a celebration: the villagers and local authorities invited us to the town hall, and there, to ourselves, to myself I should say we had a festival of traditional dances accompanied by the sound of "k'ni" and bamboo flutes, with stars and wood fires as projectors! Touching moment where art and tradition threw a bridge between past and present ...
Sorry, I do not unveil my secret places, but if one day you feel like wanting to go back in time, I'm your man to share them with art ...!
