Everyone should have a võng in their home.
I have a lot of contentious opinions — all food is better cold; cash is preferable to digital transfers; film studios should never make a sequel; Saigon’s best feature is its zoo. Most of the time I can understand the perspective of those who disagree; I’m the odd one. Yet, I’m confident about my võng opinion. They are the best home item one can purchase and should be in every living or bedroom.
Depiction of an early American hammock. Photo via Academia Salvadoreña de la Historia Facebook page.
Võng gets the English name hammock from the Spanish hamaca, which, in turn, was appropriated from a Taíno Arawakan word. When Europeans first came to South and Central America, they encountered its widespread use and adapted it as the preferred accommodation for centuries of subsequent naval voyages, because sailors could be cramped into tight spaces while tolerating ocean waves. The first astronauts to walk on the moon even had them in their landing module to rest in between lunar strolls. But hammocks likely evolved independently in Europe centuries earlier as evidenced by old medieval artwork and vague description of “hanging beds.”
Photo of a high-ranking mandarin in a võng-like palaquin. Photo via Flickr user manhhai.
In Vietnam, võng’s precise origins are uncertain, though it's known to date back at least as far as the 13th century. In that era of extreme class distinction, kings and nobles would be carried by servants atop palanquins, which are just sturdy võng; while lower-ranking officials were afforded more rustic versions to save them the labor and indignity of walking.
While folk songs mention võng in the context of babies being lulled to sleep in idyllic countryside scenes, they also have a connection with war. When Nguyễn Huệ and his scurrilous Tây Sơn rabble-rousers took their rebellion on the road and stunned the Trịnh Lords in the north, they are said to have traveled in groups of three without stopping; two men would run while supporting a third who rested in the hammock carried between them.
Photo of a man taking a break in a hammock in decades past. Photo via Flickr user manhhai.
Alas, today võng seem mostly associated with old-fashioned, unsophisticated lifestyles and rural poverty. They indeed populate miền Tây with cafe võng lining the dusty roads connecting the outskirts of towns devoid of big city sheen or glamor. If you observe one in the city, it's likely occupied by an auntie, grandfather or blue-collar worker who has strung it up to escape the brutal heat at a construction site. They certainly aren’t offered at trendy coffee shops, bars or high-falutin corporate breakrooms.
For a brief time, I had a võng set up in the Saigoneer office much to the chagrin of my co-workers. When I transferred it to my home, friends similarly scoffed at the concept, suggesting it belonged outside. They said it's unseemly for a man nearing his 40s to have such a piece of furniture in his living room.
But why?
My bedroom hammock (with Mimi for scale).
For pure comfort, few can beat a hammock. The gentle distribution of weight thanks to gravity and cloth caught in delicate balance is as close to floating as one can get outside of water. While the research is incomplete, and it depends on the specific hammock and one’s health, they might actually improve one's back condition and sleep. Moreover, they are cheap and, thanks to sturdy, foldable stands, convenient for just about any location. When reclined in one you can imagine yourself to be a powerful feudal bureaucrat, a mighty Tây Sơn soldier, or even an astronaut. I personally like to daydream about fond memories of taking a break from careening around the delta with my friends to have relaxed conversations with strong coffee. How is that not cool? Besides, it doesn’t matter if someone else thinks it is cool, võng are for people who care about comfort over superficial expectations.
