T A B L E_T A L K Offer your tips to a Table Talker who plans to spend Easter in Paris with his son   How-to, why-not and what-for -- find it all at barnesandnoble.com Search by:  Keyword Title Author     R E C E N T L Y Clash of the camels! By Laurie Udesky On Turkey's Aegean coast, wrestling beasts relieve winter's monotony (03/09/99) The wizard of Oise By David Downie Vincent van Gogh still draws painters and pilgrims to the Parisian suburb of Auvers-sur-Oise (03/07/99) Siberian wasteland By Jeffrey Tayler An overland journey exposes a traveler to the hazards of radiation, desolation and snowstorms (03/05/99) The mystic-barber of Selçuk By Gary Mex Glazner How a tonsorial teen in Turkey helped me understand the revelations of Rumi (03/04/99) Special delivery By Lindsy Van Gelder Hand delivering a postcard from the Galapagos to Italy starts a string of delightful surprises. (03/03/99) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner		|------------------A VISIT TO HANOI AND ENVIRONS REVEALS |---------------THE COMPLICATED LEGACY OF THE WAR. BY JEFF GREENWALD Here was the plan: two leisurely weeks in North Vietnam. We'd explore Hanoi, sampling the local cuisine and sipping sweet coffee at lakeside cafes. When the city got oppressive we'd visit the northern hill tribes, or bask on the beaches of spectacular Halong Bay. I'd even brought my astronomical binoculars, hoping for an unadulterated look at some stars. A word to the wise: Never go to a communist country to relax. For a cultural awakening, absolutely. For an education, definitely. But not to relax. Why should this have surprised us? What were we thinking? At what point in their history, Diane and I wondered in retrospect, did the Viet Cong have time to mix up a few mai tais and sun themselves by the pool? And why on Earth should an American's visit to North Vietnam be any more relaxing than a visit by O.J. Simpson to his in-laws? But here, as travelers invariably discover, lies the Great Yankee Paradox. Never mind that we conducted a secret war here, backed a coup there or refused to buy a country's papayas for 30 years. Most foreigners (with the exception of a few Muslim clerics and beret-capped fanatics) are actually quite happy to see us. Vietnam in particular has enjoyed a renaissance of relations with the West. For the past 10 years the country has been a hot tourist destination; not just for budget travelers, but for Vietnam veterans as well. Buddhist monks such as Thich Nhat Hanh have led retreats during which American soldiers meditate on forgiveness with their former Viet Cong adversaries. News like that, I think, makes it possible to believe in evolution. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - We taxied into town from Noi Bai airport in the late afternoon, on a hazy gray day when the world looked as bleak as a communist chalkboard. It was January, and we suddenly recalled how cold Asia can get. The first thing we did was head for the Old Quarter, starting at Hoan Kiem -- the Lake of the Magic Sword -- and wandering north, into a maze of streets and markets that awaken visions of old Shanghai. The Old Quarter is a place of cells, districts of enterprise where hyperspecific goods spill from open storefronts and crowd the sidewalks. We strolled, amazed, through enclaves selling tombstones, pith helmets, xylophones, paper clothes (burned to benefit one's ancestors), Ray Bans, whole roasted pigeons and plastic fighter planes. One entire block is devoted to bamboo ladders; another to tinned cookies. By nightfall we knew Hanoi would be no place for astronomy; we'd have to find an alternate evening activity. Coincidentally, the Old Quarter's worst source of light pollution was our best bet for the night. On the north shore of Hoan Kiem, emblazoned with candy-colored neon marquees, stands the Thanh Long Water Puppet Theater. As the late show was sold out, we ducked into the 6:30 performance. At the front of the room was an artificial pond, surrounded by colorful curtains and a sort of miniature village. A platform stage to the right supported four musicians, sitting behind traditional Vietnamese instruments. The lights fell, and the haunting strains of a dan bau -- a one-stringed instrument with a sound as otherworldly as a theremin's -- filled the theater. One by one, the water puppets emerged: brightly lacquered human and animal figures that seemed to be suspended on the pond. They unfurled banners, spewed fireworks and created general havoc. No puppeteers were visible; the troupe stood in knee-deep water behind the backdrop, manipulating the figures with rods and pulleys concealed beneath the surface. There was an element of magic about the performance; indeed, the techniques of each troupe are closely guarded secrets. Water puppetry is an art unique to Vietnam. It started centuries ago, and was originally performed in actual ponds. Unlike its cultural equivalents in India and Indonesia -- all-night marathons that recount the great Hindu epics -- water puppetry has no narrative thread. The entire performance, which took only an hour, was a series of disconnected vignettes. The program listed 17, including "Catching Frogs," "Fairy Dance" and "Returning to the Native Land After College Graduation." The short skits were clearly intended for kids, and their manic energy, fireworks and simple themes reminded me strongly of their Western equivalent. "The Indonesian wayang kulit is to water puppets," I remarked to Diane, "as Opera is to MTV." N E X T+P A G E | Total chaos in Hanoi   PHOTOGRAPH: UPI-CORBIS/BETTMANN _________________________________ For more information: _________________________________