Finding the Đàn Bầu

I was wandering the streets of the city, in a rush to go nowhere, to see everything. Every turn was somewhere new, even if I had already been there two times before. I didn’t mind getting lost. If it was hopeless, I’d find a café or stop at one of the roadside stands. Or write in my journal, check everything out. Just notice the habits, the small things- the timbre in someone’s voice, the way a friend reached out to another, the crazy traffic, the way it all coexisted and worked.
I had read about a puppet show, and I had nothing to do that night, so I went. Nothing but tourists and a couple wealthy Vietnamese families. Oh well, I am one, I am one…I was constantly reminded, but when the music started, I was put in a trance.
Beautiful ladies in flowing dresses and men in traditional dress had set up unnoticed, at least by me. The first note was the haunting and sublime sound of the dan bau. It enchanted the air. I immediately fell in love with the angelic lady playing it. I barely had the wherewithal to press start on the cheap analog tape recorder I had brought. But it was for this moment I did bring it.
4 years later, and I’m back in Hanoi. We are set to leave tomorrow. I had been keeping an eye out for instrument shops, but today was the day to actually find one. Over the last couple years, thinking about my experiences here, I would often listen to the recording I had made. It captured the sadness, grace, and tradition I had seen here. A couple days back, while looking through an old government building, we saw two musicians playing, one was playing the dan bau. There was something about the instrument that spoke of this country, and I was still haunted by the sound from before. So I wanted to see if I could find one.

In a guide, we read about a shop that sold native instruments, so we set off on a trek to find it. These little day trips always felt like small journeys, cause it always involved getting lost, keeping your calm, stopping for the best food, being infused with all that was going on. The looks, the flow, the smells, all new, all old.
After a couple hours of searching, we took a turn into a street lined with shops. Yes! We found it, but I had no idea the connection I was about to make. The shop had the usual popular Chinese zithers that were used quite often in traditional Vietnamese music, but my eye was searching for the dan bau. In the back of the store, up on a shelf, I saw one. I approached it, not knowing how to play it or get a sound. The nice younger lady who was running the shop that day knew that I was curious and just wanted to get a sound out of this exotic instrument. She had probably seen many tall westerners roam her shop, only to ask a couple questions and leave. But 30 minutes later, she was still showing me the way harmonics are made to get the crying, emotive sound that is this instrument. We were having a good time and she was handing to me a little knowledge of the Vietnamese culture. What a good experience. She told me that they had made this instrument in the shop in the back of the store. Her father had started the shop many years ago, and he had died recently. She showed me a photograph of him working and planing the wood on a dan bau, scraps lying all around him. Over his life, he had taught his family how to make these elegant instruments, along with others. This was truly something special, part of her family's story right in front of me in this instrument. With scenes of life on the side all outlayed in mother of pearl, it was an instrument and a work of art.
Everything about this instrument was beautiful to me. And this experience was beautiful as well. As long as I had played music in my life, I had never been this enchanted by an instrument and it's history, origin, sound and tradition.

It was a good while later that we left. We said a heartfelt goodbye to her, and I had a handmade dan bau in my hands. It's years later, and I consider this instrument one of my dearest possessions. Instruments fill the walls of my room, but only one is handmade and native to the country I bought it in. The care taken to make this instrument and reverence to traditional forms of art are what make it special. This instrument has guided my thinking towards finding more like it in other countries. Countries with life as chaotic and serene as Vietnam, where there are ways of life that tie people to their ancestors and the land they lived in.

Here's an example of how it sounds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYSgPobFndk