Dan Nhi Two-string Fiddle

The Dan Nhi is popular among several ethnic groups in Vietnam. It is also referred to as Dan Co in southern provinces of Viet Nam.

The Dan Nhi is somewhat a sort of vertical violin with two strings, held in front of the player like a small cello and played with a bow. In the past, Dan Nhi strings were made from silk, but today Dan Nhi craftsfolk prefer metal. The frets on the neck are made from horse-tail hair, and the body is covered with snake skin. The bow is made of bamboo or wood and fitted with horsehair. The hair goes through the space between the strings.

The sound of the Dan Nhi is said to imitate that of a singer. It can be played in either short staccato notes or longer chords and can be played slow or fast to suit any composition.

The Dan Nhi is capable of great flexibility in range, tone, and dynamics. The sound of the Dan Nhi is said to imitate that of a singer. It can be played in either short staccato notes or longer chords and can be played slow or fast to suit any composition.

There are three holding positions: The cornet is pressed against the musician’s hip as he or she walks. The wooden resonant box is held between the musician’s knees if sitting on a stool. The cylinder is held between the musician’s feet if sitting on the ground.

The two-string fiddle, with its melodious sounds, can express the subtle mood of a human’s soul. Due to its diverse use, the Dan Nhi is dispensable in traditional musical orchestras.

Xoan Singing

Xoan singing is a folk cultural product of Phú Thọ province. The last point of time that Xoan accompany still sang in communal houses of the villages in spring was in 1945. Fortunately, we still had an opportunity to meet singers and instrumentalist who used to sing in the Xoan accompany in the old days when we conducted to investigate, study on Xoan singing in the late August.

It can be said that Xoan singing is still engraved in the memory of folk artists who up to now can perform it in the communal house whenever having the festival. Previously, the Xoan singing belonged to four villages, An Thái, Thét, Phù Đức and Kim Đái of Hạc Trì district, Phú Thọ province. After the innovation, An Thái village belongs to Phượng Lâu, Việt Trì city, and Thét, Phú Đức and Kim Đái villages belong to Kim Đức, Phù Ninh district, Phú Thọ province. According to folk artists, of those four villages, the singing style of Xoan accompany of An Thái village is similar to that of Thét village and Phù Đức village similar to Kim Đái. However, it is the difference of order of repertoire, words and the number of dancer, etc, that also creates the own style of each village.

In 1998, together with the establishment of the club of Xoan singing in Kim Đức communes and An Thái village, Phượng Lâu commune brought about new vitality for Xoan singing. The generation of elderly folk artists in the old days always tried their best to hand down offspring compositions in the old style of singing in the activity of Club. On the last August 18th, People’s Committee of Kim Đức commune opened a festival of Xoan singing competition to rise up the passion and pride of villagers to the special art of the locality. When we coming, villagers of each Xoan village were actively practicing and perfecting compositions to be able to found Xoan accompany of each village according to the policy of the Department of Culture and Information of Phú Phọ province. The concern of authority and enthusiastic contribution of the villagers are good news of art of Xoan singing in today’s life.

Conical Hat or Non La

Non LaTake a peasant’s common conical hat, add a touch of this and a little of that, and you will have the idea, but not quite an authentic Non Bai Tho or “Poetical Leaf” from Central Vietnam. Just a few simple arrangements added to the conical form are enough to give the Vietnamese leaf-covered hat unique features found nowhere else among Asia’s various types of conical hats.

The legend of the conical hat is related to maternal love and the history of rice growing in Vietnam.

Once upon a time, the legend says, when a deluge of rain was falling there descended from the sky a giant woman wearing on her head four huge round leaves as large as the sky itself and stitched together by bamboo sticks. The leaves protected humankind, then still naked, from the rain. The giant messenger from the sky twirled round the leaves on her head to dispel clouds and rains. Those who followed her were taught by her how to grow crops. One day mankind dozed off as they listened to stories narrated by her. When they woke up the goddess was gone. The Vietnamese built a temple in her memory and honored her as the Rain-shielding Goddess. Following her example, people went into the forests to fetch broad and round leaves (palm) which they stitched together on a bamboo frame. This was to become an indispensable headwear for the farmers on the fields, boat-women carrying passengers across rivers, travelers under the blazing sun…

However, Vietnamese girls do not like just any conical hat they come upon. The dearest to them is inevitably the one called the “Poetical Leaf “for they become milder, more elegant and more delicate when once they put on a hat, which gives shelter to their blushing cheeks like a crowing bud protected from sun, rain or rough wind. Vietnamese women also use the conical hat to fan off the heat of summer, as a container for a bunch of vegetables, and even as a bowl to relieve the thirst when passing by a well, etc. Romantically, young couples can veil their kisses behind this traditional conical hat during their dates.

The shape as well as the size of the conical hat has evolved greatly. As a rule, the broad-rimmed hat was reserved for women while men wore hats with a higher cone and smaller rims. Then, there were hats made specifically for wealthy and powerful people, hats for children, hats to equip the army, hats for the Buddhist clergy, for the mourners…, more than 50 types in all. Undoubtedly, the two best known and best liked are the conical hat of Chuong village in Ha Tay province, north of Hanoi, and the “Bai Tho”, hat of Hue, the old imperial city.

The prototype of Lang Chuong hat is a large disk-like bamboo frame covered with palm leaves and perpendicularly bent on its rim to form a band of about four inches. At the center is placed a small bamboo frame to fit the head. The strap is usually very elaborately made of silk, adorned with yellow tassels also made of silk. This hat used to be worn by upper-crust families during visits to pagodas or festive occasions.

The present conical hat is, however, patterned on the “Bai Tho” hat originating in the old capital city of Hue and the birthplace of many eminent literary men. It is true that the place where the hat comes from has been romantically famous with its peaceful Huong (Perfume) River and its majestic Ngu Binh (Peace) mountain. Moreover, Hue has been famous for her attractively sentimental, soft-voiced and long-haired girls who often gave inspiration to poets whose creative works have been handed down to the present day. And the “Poetical Leaf” has a prominent place in all that poetical, dreamy and yet scholarly diet of the ancient city. It is so called because the artisan takes great pains to cut the characters of a verse out of a palm leaf and insert them between two layers of palm leaves before stitching them together. The characters will be easily readable when the hat is seen against sunlight. Nowadays the characters are usually replaced by a decorative figure such as a flower, a dragon or even a landscape.

The making of a conical hat is a one-hundred-percent handicraft. The leaves used to cover the hat are brought from the forest. Then they are exposed to the dew for one night to soften them. When the leaves become dry but still soft they are flattened either by hand or by ironing. Only young leaves are selected. Old or dark ones are discarded. A hat usually consists of 16 to 18 rims made from a special kind of bamboo. In order to have a well-made hat, it must be knitted together with a peculiar kind of thread called “doac” made from the leaves of a special kind of reed. Finally, the hat is trimmed and painted with a coat of attar oil to keep it clean and smooth.

The skill of the craftsman (who in this case is more likely a woman) can be judged by the regularity of the leaves arranged on the hat. The roundness of the rim and particularly the fineness of the stitches which must be so done as to reveal no knot.

Although the conical hat is no longer the cities woman’s everyday costume, it remains the ubiquitous head wear in the countryside. And a young girl with her conical hat, quite charming in her four-flapped long dress, is always a popular image of Vietnam and the Vietnamese people.

Beef Noodle Soup

Makes 8 satisfying (American-sized) bowls

For the broth:

2 medium yellow onions (about 1 pound total)

4-inch piece ginger (about 4 ounces)

5-6 pounds beef soup bones (marrow and knuckle bones)

5 star anise (40 star points total)

6 whole cloves

3-inch cinnamon stick

1 pound piece of beef chuck, rump, brisket or cross rib roast, cut into 2-by-4-inch pieces (weight after trimming)

1 1/2 tablespoons salt

4 tablespoons fish sauce

1 ounce (1-inch chunk) yellow rock sugar (duong phen; see Note)

For the bowls:

1 1/2-2 pounds small (1/8-inch wide) dried or fresh banh pho noodles (“rice sticks” or Thai chantaboon)

1/2 pound raw eye of round, sirloin, London broil or tri-tip steak, thinly sliced across the grain (1/16 inch thick; freeze for 15 minutes to make it easier to slice)

1 medium yellow onion, sliced paper-thin, left to soak for 30 minutes in a bowl of cold water

3 or 4 scallions, green part only, cut into thin rings

1/3 cup chopped cilantro (ngo)

Ground black pepper

Optional garnishes arranged on a plate and placed at the table:

Sprigs of spearmint (hung lui) and Asian/Thai basil (hung que)

Leaves of thorny cilantro (ngo gai)

Bean sprouts (about 1/2 pound)

Red hot chiles (such as Thai bird or dragon), thinly sliced

Lime wedges

Prepare the broth:

Char onion and ginger. Use an open flame on grill or gas stove. Place onions and ginger on cooking grate and let skin burn. (If using stove, turn on exhaust fan and open a window.) After about 15 minutes, they will soften and become sweetly fragrant. Use tongs to occasionally rotate them and to grab and discard any flyaway onion skin. You do not have to blacken entire surface, just enough to slightly cook onion and ginger.

Let cool. Under warm water, remove charred onion skin; trim and discard blackened parts of root or stem ends. If ginger skin is puckered and blistered, smash ginger with flat side of knife to loosen flesh from skin. Otherwise, use sharp paring knife to remove skin, running ginger under warm water to wash off blackened bits. Set aside.

Parboil bones. Place bones in stockpot (minimum 12-quart capacity) and cover with cold water. Over high heat, bring to boil. Boil vigorously 2 to 3 minutes to allow impurities to be released. Dump bones and water into sink and rinse bones with warm water. Quickly scrub stockpot to remove any residue. Return bones to pot.

Simmer broth. Add 6 quarts water to pot, bring to boil over high heat, then lower flame to gently simmer. Use ladle to skim any scum that rises to surface. Add remaining broth ingredients and cook 1 1/2 hours. Boneless meat should be slightly chewy but not tough. When it is cooked to your liking, remove it and place in bowl of cold water for 10 minutes; this prevents the meat from drying up and turning dark as it cools. Drain the meat; cool, then refrigerate. Allow broth to continue cooking; in total, the broth should simmer 3 hours.

Strain broth through fine strainer. If desired, remove any bits of gelatinous tendon from bones to add to your pho bowl. Store tendon with cooked beef. Discard solids.

Use ladle to skim as much fat from top of broth as you like. (Cool it and refrigerate it overnight to make this task easier; reheat befofe continuing.) Taste and adjust flavor with additional salt, fish sauce and yellow rock sugar. The broth should taste slightly too strong because the noodles and other ingredients are not salted. (If you’ve gone too far, add water to dilute.) Makes about 4 quarts.

Assemble bowls: The key is to be organized and have everything ready to go. Thinly slice cooked meat. For best results, make sure it’s cold.

Heat broth and ready noodles. To ensure good timing, reheat broth over medium flame as you’re assembling bowls. If you’re using dried noodles, cover with hot tap water and soak 15-20 minutes, until softened and opaque white. Drain in colander. For fresh rice noodles, just untangle and briefly rinse in a colander with cold water.

Blanch noodles. Fill 3- or 4-quart saucepan with water and bring to boil. For each bowl, use long-handle strainer to blanch a portion of noodles. As soon as noodles have collapsed and lost their stiffness (10-20 seconds), pull strainer from water, letting water drain back into saucepan. Empty noodles into bowls. Noodles should occupy 1/4 to 1/3 of bowl; the latter is for noodle lovers, while the former is for those who prize broth.

If desired, after blanching noodles, blanch bean sprouts for 30 seconds in same saucepan. They should slightly wilt but retain some crunch. Drain and add to the garnish plate.

Add other ingredients. Place slices of cooked meat, raw meat and tendon (if using) atop noodles. (If your cooked meat is not at room temperature, blanch slices for few seconds in hot water from above.) Garnish with onion, scallion and chopped cilantro. Finish with black pepper.

Ladle in broth and serve. Bring broth to rolling boil. Check seasoning. Ladle broth into each bowl, distributing hot liquid evenly so as to cook raw beef and warm other ingredients. Serve with garnish plate.

Note: Yellow rock sugar (a.k.a. lump sugar) is sold in one-pound boxes at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets. Break up large chunks with hammer.

Variations: If you want to replicate the splendorous options available at pho shops, head to the butcher counter at a Vietnamese or Chinese market. There you’ll find white cords of gan (beef tendon) and thin pieces of nam (outside flank, not flank steak). While tendon requires no preparation prior to cooking, nam should be rolled and tied with string for easy handling. Simmer it and the beef tendon in the cooking broth for two hours, or until chewy-tender.

Airy book tripe (sach) is already cooked when you buy it. Before using, wash and gently squeeze it dry. Slice it thinly to make fringe-like pieces to be added to the bowl during assembly. For beef meatballs (bo vien), purchase them in Asian markets in the refrigerator case; they are already precooked. Slice each one in half and drop into broth to heat through. When you’re ready to serve, ladle them out with the broth to top each bowl.

Vietnamese Traditional Stilt Houses

Four thousand years ago, Vietnamese people were building stilt houses similar to those in use today. Suited to flood-prone plains and to steep mountain slopes, these houses remain popular among many of Vietnam’s 54 different ethnic groups.

As well as being somewhere to eat, entertain and sleep, a stilt house is where a family worships its ancestors and works at tasks like weaving and embroidery. The most important room is the kitchen, which is usually set in the center of the house and serves as a meeting place where the family gathers at the end of the day.

Thai house

On the lower level of a Thai house, the family entertains guests, cooks and weaves.

Stilt houses are made from wood, bamboo, cane, or rattan. A traditional stilt house typically has an area for drying rice, set one or two steps below the main level. The area under the house is either unused or used as a pen for livestock.

Tay and Nung people in northwestern Vietnam (including Lang Son and Cao Bang) typically build their stilt houses up against a slope. Ideally, the front of the house should overlook fields; close views of mountains, rivers and forests are avoided. The Tay and Nung believe that a mountain peak is like an arrow, which, if pointed at a house, might injure its residents. Trees, meanwhile, are associated with fierce beasts, and thought to bring bad luck to livestock. Nearby streams are thought to cause money to flow away from a house.

Tay and Nung houses are usually narrow in front and supported by seven or nine rows of columns running along the sides. Villages typically consist of houses set parallel to each other along a hillside.

Since Viet people traditionally lived on flat, spacious plains, their stilt houses are wider. A typical Viet stilt house has two staircases on the left and right sides. The walls are made from thin boards. The roof rests on one or two pillars and two beams. The right side of the house is used for worship, entertaining guests and the men’s quarters, while the left side is reserved for women.

Muong people build stilt houses that include characteristics of Viet, Tay and Nung houses, while Thai people have a very distinctive house style. All houses in a Thai village face high mountains and forests, since this view is thought to increase vitality. It is considered unlucky to build a house facing a gap between two mountain peaks.

Like other groups, the Thai position their houses facing north to south. They divide the living space into two: a higher level, restricted to family members, is used for worship, relaxation, and sleep; the lower level is where the family entertains guests, cooks and weaves. There are two doors and two covered porches. The left-hand door is called chan and the right-hand door is called quan. Family members may use both doors, but visiting women must use the chan door, while visiting men must use the quan door.

A new son-in-law sleeps in the right porch, which is called the tang quan. The left porch, or tang chan, is used for drying rice and clothes. Thai houses have beautiful windows, measuring 60cm by 100cm, set close to the floor in the front wall. The roofs are highly distinctive in that they are comprised of four panels. Two flat panels are linked by curved gables over the porches.

Bana, Xedang, and Giarai people living in Vietnam’s Tay Nguyen (Central Highlands) build huge stilt houses known as rong. The roof of a rong is incredibly steep and tall, like the blade of a hole. In front of a rong stands a balcony. These stilt houses serve as communal halls.

The Ede, a matriarchal group in Dak Lak province, live in stilt longhouses. The homeowners’ bedroom faces east, while the guest room faces west. The roof is highly unusual in that it is trapezoid-shaped, with the longer end at the bottom.

This roof is supported by columns and extends from one to one-and-a-half meters in the front and back.

The interior is equally strange, as the roof is so tan and narrow. Most of the house is taken up with the living room, supported by four columns: the master column, guest column, drum column and gong column. Guest seating entails benches made from old trees, 27 to 30 meters in length, which are intricately carved.

Whatever their style and size, Vietnam’s traditional stilt houses complement their natural settings. Simple and unimposing, these houses reflect the unique cultures of Vietnam’s diverse ethnic groups.

Superstition in Vietnam

What is the best way to keep a child healthy? An old Vietnamese grandfather believes the charm of a certain necklace wards off evil spirits and he may give it to his grandson to protect the boy. An employee fails to show up for work on the third day of the lunar month because he believes that particular date brings him bad luck. A student tries to borrow money to buy lottery tickets because he dreamed of fire the night before.

These are some examples of superstition which may baffle the foreign visitor to this country. But, in Vietnam, it is part of tradition and customs passed down from one generation to the next. Ignorance, of course, plays some role in the traditional acceptance of superstition. Not having sufficient knowledge, faith or trust in scientific methods, a Vietnamese often relies on his prejudices, emotions and the word of his forefathers to guide his daily life.

Superstition, sometimes, plays more than a passing role in Vietnamese society. By the time a boy is old enough to marry, for example, he may not be able to wed the girl he loves because she was born in the wrong year. On the 12-year lunar calendar commonly used throughout Asia, many of the years are considered incompatible. Such years are thought to bring misfortune if they are improperly matched with other years. Thus a young man born in “the Year of the Tiger,” cannot marry his beloved from “the Year of the Horse” unless he wants to risk a break in family ties with his parents and elder relatives. To the conservative relatives, the Tiger and Horse are incompatible and sure to bring bad luck to such a marriage. The hoot of an owl is regarded as a bad omen announcing death or illness. According to ancient tradition the bird must be chased away and those who heard his cry should be extremely cautious about their personal safety.

A large number of fortune-tellers, astrologers and palm-readers owe their living to Vietnamese superstition and often made a small fortune from their clients. Even the poor save money for occasional visits to well-known soothsayers. Superstition has been known to determine the conduct of the war in this ravaged country. A friendly or enemy commander may refuse to attack or may alter his strategy if the stars are not in his favor. One story has it that an American commander always consulted a Vietnamese astrologer before planning the deployment of his troops. When questioned by his incredulous superiors, he explained that, according to his theory, he could depend on the enemy to base his attacks on the positions of the stars. So, he consulted a stargazer himself for intelligence on the enemy’s movements. Another story passed down through history is that of the famous Vietnamese generals Le Loi and Nguyen Trai. Several years ago, the pair was leading a war against Chinese invaders. Nguyen Trai decided to turn superstition to his advantage and used grease to write the phrases “Le Loi vi Quan; Nguyen Trai vi Than,” (Le Loi for King; Nguyen Trai for Minister of State) on the large leaves of forest trees. Ants later consumed the grease absorbed in the leaf tissue and left the prophecy clearly engraved. People living nearby noticed the perforated leaves and interpreted them as a “divine message.” Inspired by this, they wholeheartedly supported the war which eventually led to the defeat of the Chinese and the enthronement of Emperor Le Loi.

Another story is told of a Montagnard tribe that trapped a white elephant in 1961 and offered the rare animal to the late President Ngo Dinh Diem as a gift. Government news agencies, attempting to strengthen the already tottering regime of Diem, spread the word that a “powerful king” had been sent down from Heaven to rule the Vietnamese. The President himself flew to the city of Ban Me Thuot in the Central Highlands to accept the gift, a symbol of supreme and divine power. The elephant was given to Diem in a much publicized ceremony. Two years later, history proved no “powerful king” had come to the rescue when Diem was assassinated and his regime overthrown in a military coup. Whether by chance or not, superstition scores an occasional point in its favor. One story tells of an old Vietnamese Senator who, learning that the opening ceremony of the first Vietnamese Senate under the new Constitution would be October 10, 1967, voiced his disapproval. It was a bad day, he said, and someone in the Senate would surely suffer for the indiscretion. Four months later, during the Communist Tet offensive of 1968, Senator Tran Dien, a popular and well loved figure, was assassinated, by the Viet Cong in Hue, in Central Vietnam. The old Senator is convinced his prophecy of doom came true .

There are some social reformers in this country who believe that superstition is a problem, which should be eradicated in Vietnam is to become a truly progressive, modern nation. A young whipper-snapper, a graduate from a foreign western university, even proposed legislation to outlaw superstition in this country. How dull life would be if all our soothsayers, fortune tellers, palm-readers and astrologers were to be pensioned off and retired. We promptly took this abominable proposition to our favorite soothsayer who solemnly assured us that this is not in the stars.