The Spy in Hanoi: They Are Watching You

Changing of the guards takes place every day at the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.

Our Hanoi street photography outing began with a tripod, a tree-lined avenue, and a photograph I had in mind. It ended with us wondering whether someone was following us. Somewhere between those two moments, an ordinary walk acquired the plot of a very low-budget spy film.

It was around 40°C (104°F), and we had found a long avenue where sunlight filtered through huge old trees above the busy road. I loved the contrast between the shade and the bright patches of pavement. The camera was ready, the tripod was set, and I was hoping a fruit seller carrying baskets on a shoulder pole would pass through the frame. We took a few test shots and waited.

The avenue that made us stop, set up the tripod, and forget to pay much attention to the buildings beside it.

When Our Hanoi Street Photography Attracted Attention

A woman approached and pointed at our camera. I could not understand what she said, though her gestures suggested that she objected to what we were photographing. We understood that her concern was a nearby government building. We had been concentrating on the trees and the street, so we showed her some of the pictures on the camera screen.

I assumed she was connected with the building, possibly in some security role. We never established who she worked for. Calling her a “spy” became our joke about the encounter, not something we knew about her. At that point, all we knew was that our camera had attracted more interest than we had expected.

Laundry drying against a yellow wall. Small scenes like this were what we had gone out to photograph.

Let’s Be French and Act Normal

Our rather questionable strategy was, “Let’s be French and act normal.” Why French? I cannot offer a convincing explanation. We carried on walking, and about 15 minutes later the same woman was still nearby. At one point, she appeared to be watching us from behind a large tree. “I can still see you, you know!” I called out. Subtlety was clearly in short supply on both sides.

A bread seller in Hanoi. Our improvised French identity at least gave us an excuse to think about baguettes.

Underneath the absurdity, I was worried about the photographs already on our memory card. We had built up a collection of Hanoi pictures, and I did not want an argument about a building to put them at risk. Nobody asked us to erase anything. That possibility was running through my head, so we leaned into the most conventional tourist behavior we could manage: maps, a nearby church, and photographs with very little potential for intrigue.

A turquoise entrance that could easily have become a secret passage in our increasingly imaginative version of the day.

Eventually, we saw her speaking into a walkie-talkie. We had no idea what she was saying or whether the conversation concerned us. When she walked away, we were relieved. Our brief career as suspicious tourists was over, and we could get back to looking around Hanoi.

A church facade for the tourist photo collection we suddenly wanted to emphasize.

Be Careful Where You Point the Camera in Hanoi

The useful lesson was to look beyond the composition and notice what else was in the frame. We had been admiring an avenue without giving much thought to the building beside it. Looking back, our tactical-style backpack, bagged tripod, dark sunglasses, and pollution masks probably did little to make us inconspicuous. I can understand why someone might have wanted a closer look at what we were doing.

For photographers visiting today: Canada’s official Vietnam travel advice says that photographing sensitive installations, including military sites, border crossings, and police checkpoints, is prohibited. Such areas are not always marked. Follow signs and instructions from local authorities, and ask permission before photographing people. The current photography guidance for Vietnam is a useful starting point. It does not establish what restrictions applied to the particular building in our story.

The heat and air quality were wearing us down that day. Later, we went for afternoon tea at The Hive Lounge in Landmark72, where the view from above made the haze over Hanoi more obvious. I cannot attach a reliable pollution measurement to that particular afternoon. What I remember is wanting shade, a break from the street, and a chance to breathe more comfortably.

An old villa behind the trees. We will leave its role in any espionage plot to our imagination.

I still remember that avenue for its huge trees and the light falling through them. The encounter gave us a story, along with a reminder that a photographer’s attention can become very selective. I had spent so long thinking about who might walk into my picture that I had barely considered who might already be watching me take it.