Hanoi

Travel runs in Lea Seibert’s blood. Her father works as a forester for development aid services. Lea lived in Indonesia until she was six years old, after which the family moved frequently. “There’s no real place I could call home,” says the 27-year old. “I feel it perhaps most in Asia.” Lea has a warm and open mien; she glows as she speaks. “I am something of a cultural mediator,” she reports of the insight she gained during her studies of performing arts in Hildesheim. It was there that she organized a theatre festival and became aware that she would spend her future more behind the stage than upon it. “I especially wanted to organize cultural events overseas.” Encouraged by her experiences at a festival of the German Embassy in Singapore, one of her job applications was to the Goethe-Institut Hanoi and – four days after handing in her thesis – she took up the challenge of boarding a plane to take part in the Percival project at the Hanoi Opera.

Her boyfriend, an Englishman, accompanied her from Berlin to Hanoi. They met in 2009 in, of all places, Hoi An: “I spoke to him, not because I wanted to get to know him, but to borrow a chair at his table. We got to talking and got along so well right away that we continued our travels together.” For Lea and her boyfriend it was understood that they would go to Vietnam together – just as they are now moving together to London. “I think it’s great that he understands me so well,” says Lea, for whom intelligence and humour are the most important qualities in a man. Equality is essential for her in a relationship. “But, for me emancipation also means that each partner is what they are: I love to cook, so he’s not allowed to interfere. He, on the other hand, worked as an investment banker so he takes care of financial matters. Yet it’s not a matter of roles, but of interests.”

It is too soon for Lea to consider marriage. “I don’t know if that’s necessary. It is always a daunting prospect for children of divorced parents. But, I think we’re a good couple.” Having children is more on Lea’s mind than a wedding. “Three would fit perfectly in a car,” she says, laughing heartily. To give up work for her offspring is something Lea cannot imagine, however. Yet, she appears to have come to a point in her life in which something is changing. “I have travelled about so much. After three years in the same place, I’ve become restless,” relates Lea. “But for me as a person it’s not good. Although it has been a great luxury to see all that – so far my friends and family are my home and I would like to find a place that I can call it.”

The fact that Lea is unmarried and childless at 27 corresponds to the statistical trend in Germany. According to the Federal Statistical Office, the average age of marriage in 2009 was 33 for men and 30 years for women. The number of births is also dropping; in 2009 it reached a record low of 1.36 children per woman – making Germany the country with the lowest birth rate in Europe. In addition, those who have a child are getting older; the average number of births among younger women declined in 2009, but increased among women over 33 years of age. Childlessness in Germany has become a social phenomenon and educational standards play a decisive role in it; experts consider the increase in the time it takes to acquire an education one cause for the low birth rate. In western Germany, the higher the educational level, the fewer women have children.

In Vietnam by contrast, upon visiting the Women’s Museum of Hanoi, the entrance foyer already offers an insight into the female ideal: a large, golden statue depicts a heroic-looking woman holding a child – she is both a mother and a pillar of society. “The family is an important element of society. Marriage is the goal of almost every woman,” explains Elena Hansen, who worked at the museum for one year as a Junior Expert for the DED, now the GIZ. “Having children plays a far greater role here than, for instance, in Germany.”

Motherhood was also important for Vietnamese Huong Ly. The impression she makes is that of a modern young woman; she wears stylish clothing, a modern hairstyle, speaks very good English and has a self-confident air. Nonetheless, she hesitates to describe herself as modern. Hanoi is her home; she was born here and likes living here. “I would not want to live overseas. My family is here and I am doing well here,” says Huong Ly. The 31-year old lives with her relatives and is very close to them, while many young people in Germany are more drawn to leave their parents’ homes and become independent. But, for Le Huong Ly, the family is also a community that supports and bolsters her; Huong Ly would never have considered leaving her job after the birth of her son. That is why the grandmother helped her with childcare until the three-year old began kindergarten. Huong Ly has a great deal of responsibilities and a labour-intensive day as the manager of her family’s own hotel for the past seven years. Yet in spite of the family link, Le Huong Ly has a highly professional and cordial manner in running the hotel. She greets each guest – most of them visitors from overseas – with a glowing smile and creates a personal atmosphere. She gives them a feeling that they are more guests than customers.

“However, I could envision myself in a different profession in future.” Le Huong Ly would like to open her own shop with her husband – in spite of the fact that she does not like to cook. “But, I could recruit a good chef,” she says with a hearty laugh. Le Huong Ly was married five years ago at the age of 26. She appreciates her husband for his strength, that she can trust him and that he loves and takes care of her. For Le Huong Ly it is understood that their relationship is that of two equal partners – unlike that of their grandparents perhaps. “We ask each other’s opinions in important decisions,” says Le Huong Ly. She has hired help for cleaning. “The wife needn’t do it all herself – but it is expected of her to organize the household and childcare, while the husband earns more money.”

Mai Lan Thai embodies a little of both cultures: her parents are Vietnamese, but she grew up in Munich. Therefore it was no culture shock for her when she began working in January 2010 at the Goethe-Institut Hanoi in the area of cultural mediation. It was also a geographical move that her boyfriend accompanied her in. “That was very important to me, but only because he agreed to do it. I wouldn’t force him to by hook or by crook. Still, I would go with him if he went somewhere else, too.” Now, her boyfriend has the opportunity to get to know her roots – and a part of herself. For her, the time here is “exceedingly important” because she was able to polish her language skills, yet mainly because her “Vietnamese side has become far more confident.” Even so, the 29-year old cannot imagine staying in Hanoi forever, just as little as any place in this world. Immediately following her studies in Sinology, philosophy and business, she moved to England to acquire a master’s degree in urban development. In Hanoi, she has also worked twice under temporary contracts. “I love moving around. But, that may change, of course.”

For Mai Lan wants to have her own family one day. She can also imagine marrying, “but it’s not essential for me.” The social pressure on young women in Vietnam is perplexing for Mai Lan. “I tried to explain to my girlfriends that it’s not important elsewhere to be married. It’s awful to be considered an old maid at 28.” The dismayed reactions she receives when asked about her marital status in restaurants also come as a surprise to Mai Lan. By contrast, she feels Vietnamese in the way that she cares for her boyfriend. “I enjoy taking care of him.” She appreciates the humour and the good conversations in their relationship and thinks highly of equality – not only for housecleaning, but with regard to work. “It is the absolute centre point of my life. I identify strongly with my work.” But no matter how long Mai Lan spends in the office, her family is so important to her that she phones her mother daily. “I notice that my thinking is very German – but I often feel Vietnamese.”