TRAIN STREET

Everyone calls it Train Street or Railway Street, but its not actually a street at all. It’s a railway line taking the train south from Hanoi to Saigon and places in between. Each side of the line, and as close as they dare, are minute one room dwellings mainly occupied by migrant workers from the country villages. So small are they that most have to cook and carry out domestic chores outside. Some are small businesses a few restaurants and a beauty salon. It is a microcosm of village life, fascinating and welcoming where children play and old men sit and dream.

On the first and fifteenth days of the month in the Chinese Lunar Calendar those who participate in “ Ancestor Worship” burn their fake “lucky money” and paper made gifts, such as cars and houses, gifts for their family members who have departed from life on earth. Seeing piles of $100 bills being burnt in the streets and here on the railway line was quite a shock! Until explained.

The train to Saigon speeds through three times a day with no regard for anyone or anything that might be on the track . Minutes before, makeshift sun canopies are pulled in, furniture moved back and the kids put safely inside. Before the train is out of sight life returns to normal

The two old ladies in the photos were interesting. One showed me her blackened teeth, once a symbol of beauty but rarely practiced now. When young, over several weeks, the teeth are softened with citrus juices, iron pieces are kept in the mouth for the oxide to colour the teeth and then lacquered with a substance made from insects. Her teeth were in very good condition for a women of her age. The other had no teeth, which didn’t stop her laughing which she did incessantly. Hers had been eaten away from chewing Betel Nut. Now, unable to chew, she grinds the nuts in a little brass cup and spoons it into her mouth.

UPDATE
Unfortunately, before the Covid restrictions, the backpacking selfy and Instagram generation had taken over train street. Many dwellings had become makeshift bars and coffee houses with customers sitting alongside the track on those ubiquitous plastic stools. Perhaps once Covid is over and life assumes the “new normal” it will return to as it was when I was there. I hope so.

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