Right outside the door, the flag of the Southern Fatherland Front was fluttering in the wind. Inside the shop, every corner was imbued with the mark of the historical period: old photos, radios, notebooks, faded handwritten letters, posters promoting the day of total victory... The space was like a gentle reminder: Hanoi of the past was still here, alive in every detail.
The event was divided into three parts, leading the participants through a seamless flow of emotions. At the beginning, a precious documentary about the April 30 victory was shown. The precious footage appeared, black and white mixed with a bit of color but still shining brightly in the hearts of the viewers: the image of the Independence Palace gate being knocked down by a tank, the image of the liberation soldiers smiling kindly, the image of the Saigon people pouring into the streets, cheering, waving flags to welcome freedom... The whole room seemed to be silent, to listen to the heart beat in harmony with the country returning to that historic moment.
Right from outside the door, the flag of the Liberation Front of South Vietnam fluttered in the wind.
On the morning of April 27, 2025, at Pho Hang Cafe, time seemed to stop.
After the documentary, the audience listened to the three guests share. The guests that day were as special as the space they were sitting in. Ms. Oanh, the woman in the simple black dress, had served in the army during the fierce war years. Her face could not hide the proud look. She sat there, gently telling about the days of marching, the sleepless nights in the trenches, the mornings waking up to the sound of gunshots but still firmly believing in the day of total victory.
In the photo are Ms. Oanh (black dress) and Mr. Duc Anh (white shirt)
Next to her was Duc Anh, a researcher of Hanoi and Southern history. He brought to the event rare documents - pages of paper discolored by time, fragile but containing the strength of an entire nation. When he held up the 1973 Paris Agreement, the whole room fell silent. On that old paper, each word was still clear and strong like the iron will of the Vietnamese people.
He shared: "These documents are extremely rare, each copy has only one copy. Preserving them is also very difficult, because they are just paper, very easy to rot over time. But preserving these documents is extremely important, because they are a witness, an irreplaceable milestone in the history of the Vietnamese people." Every word he said, every artifact he showed, made the room quiet in respect. People not only saw historical documents, but also heard the throbbing heartbeat of the people who sacrificed, who were resilient to be able to reach the day of peace.
The atmosphere of the event became more solemn when artist Pham Ha Linh appeared. In a traditional purple-blue ao dai, a turban on his head, and a brush pen in his hand, he seemed to carry the soul of an entire era. The strong, graceful strokes appeared on the white paper, igniting memories of calligraphy sessions at the ancient Temple of Literature. With skill and enthusiasm, Ha Linh guided each guest to hold the pen, teaching them how to pour their soul into each stroke. Each stroke of the pen was a word of gratitude sent to the previous generation.
The strong, graceful strokes appear on the white paper, igniting memories of calligraphy sessions at the ancient Temple of Literature.
Not only the elderly guests, but also many young people were present that morning. The silver-haired and green-haired people sat together, listened together, and smiled brightly. One could feel the seething heartbeat of a radiant Hanoi on the day of total victory. A simple yet generous Hanoi. A Hanoi that knows how to sacrifice, knows how to suffer, but also knows how to cheer, knows how to burst into the fullest joy. Sitting in that space, it is easy to imagine the historic morning of April 30, 1975.
From the small houses nestled in the alleys, from the old brick roads, people poured into the streets, carrying the red flag with the yellow star fluttering in the wind. Loudspeakers blared from every street corner, announcing the victory like a fire burning in everyone's heart. The liberation soldiers wore pith helmets, carried backpacks, smiled amidst the welcoming arms of the people. The elderly, the children, the mothers, the fathers... All seemed to burst into happiness that they had waited for for many years, exchanged with tears and blood. And that day, at Pho Hang cafe, that spirit was rekindled - intact, pure and emotional as ever.
The event attracted many visitors of all ages.
In that space, the chatter and eager eyes of the young people warmed up the atmosphere. A group of students excitedly shared: "We often look for information online. Luckily, we knew about the event and came to attend, to listen to real-life sharing about Vietnamese history, not just through books."
Besides, the "silver heads" could not hide their joy. An elderly man smiled gently and said emotionally: "We here feel very happy that the young generation is interested in and listens to history. To describe it, I probably have nothing more to say, because you young people have said it all, and said it so well" - (he laughed).
Each story of Ms. Oanh, each document page of Mr. Duc Anh, each handwriting of artist Ha Linh was a bridge between the past and the present. Every person attending that event, young or old, felt like they were reliving the most sacred moment in the history of their country.
These days, Pho Hang cafe also decorates objects associated with the day of total victory: liberation flags, records of achievements, pictures of General Nguyen Chi Thanh, postcards with pictures of the liberation army... A small corner also displays old newspapers, brief but decisive news reports about the day the South was completely liberated. The atmosphere on the streets around the event area is also more bustling than usual. Red flags with yellow stars are hung all over the eaves, windows, and stalls. Small markets and mossy streets suddenly light up with the red color of love.
As the morning came to a close, hands shook tighter, eyes exchanged became warmer. People left with a little nostalgia, a little pride, a little responsibility: the responsibility to preserve that memory, that flame, and pass it on to future generations. Because history, after all, is not just a matter of yesterday. History lives in every breath, every heartbeat, every choice every day of the children of Vietnam.
Some pictures at Pho Hang cafe
