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every time we host a delegation from Vietnam.

The result is that American interests here are under represented now, and most of my friends and family are still a bit baffled as to why I came to live and work here. "You're going to a communist country, aren't you worried about that?" one of my sisters asked me just before I left.

Well, it is a communist country, but it likes to think of itself as modern, progressive, and open to what's called "market socialism." Marxist-Leninist doctrine isn't even taught in schools anymore, and there's a tacit admission that, while the ideology may look good on paper, hard experience here has taught them that centrally planned economies just don't work. To get some idea of how the locals see communist doctrine, I always point out the big bronze statue of Lenin that shows the old revolutionary in a heroic pose, looking out toward a brave new world with an angry look on his face.

All the images of Ho Chi Minh, on the other hand, show a kindly old man with a slight smile on his face. He's known as "Uncle" Ho and he looks like the type of guy who would slip the kids a few hundred thousand Dong each during the holidays when the parents weren't looking. He doesn't resemble in the least the rabid ideologue I always see scowling out over the new proletariat from his perch on the avenue.

Besides, some of my best friends here are party members, and I've never felt like I was fraternizing with Big Brother in any respect. The person I'm thinking of is a rising star in one of the ministries, and he became a party animal because it's a prerequisite for career advancement in any type of government job.

At the same time, most people are no more fond of their government here than we are of ours at the moment, but no one would dare publicly criticize. But I'm not concerned, since I didn't come here to agitate, just to teach and transfer some skills and knowledge that people might find useful.

I've spent a great deal of time walking around Hanoi recently, and looking around more closely, I see these faint reminders that I live in a city that was once under siege. The main railway station was built by the French at the turn of the last century and most of it looks like something out of Belle Epoque Paris.

The first time I saw it in its current state, I was a bit puzzled about the "addition" to the station that looked like it dated from the 70's. The central hall of the station looked completely out of place. But, of course, it was built in the 70's

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