Lightly Toasted

I’m reading an amazing book at the moment. It is the biography of Michel L’Herpinière. Bittersweet memoir of French Indochina. I have only finished the first three chapters and it is terribly exciting to say the least. To a point that I find it hard to put this book down…. It is reminiscent of our holidays there last year. The little boys journey traversing though the landscapes of Paris, Morocco, south to Madagascar, Khenifra and then on to Ho-Chi-Minh City and finally the enfant d’Empire — french quarters of Hanoi. 1936.

Its written by Mandaley Perkins. She lives in Brisbane and Michel L’Herpinière is her step-father. Of the little I’ve read it is an enchanting story of passion, war and peace, life and death and the seeming mix of orient and occident. Captivating and skillful. I have a secret love for Vietnam from our holiday there and the many lovely people we met and shared our time with… it has left an indelible spoor for me for many years to come but even if you haven’t been there pick up a copy. It will not disappoint.

Here are a few lines from Chapter 3. It amazing reading through this as we walked through the same garden, the lake, the arches bridge…

We were in Hanoi. The platform was mayhem, a confusion of luggage and passengers, an olfactory cocktail of armpits and coal smoke. Grimy hands clutched at the bag……..

Near the centre of town as we turned down one side of a serene lake, where an arched bridge crossed to an old pagoda on a tiny island on one end. Facing the lake was a row of ochre and white two storey villas, as typically French as those I knew on the other side of the world, each with a front garden and a brick and wrought iron fence. At one of these the driver pulled up and we got out to explore our first home in Indochina.