As written in its birthstone, Tadioto is where… the monk gets drunk, the punk gets laid, and the wasted gets home. This is not only a bar. It’s a parade of a personality, a character. AnyArena sneaks a peek into the curious case of Tadioto and its owner, Duc.

In the swamps of bars that dress on category-indicating outfits which shout Latino, French, international, modern styles and what-not, Tadioto steps aside and says, quietly but firmly: ‘This is me.’

Gaining its flesh from an individual’s imagery, the hideaway Tadioto hardly fits in any style that’s ever been defined. Rustic but tastefully elegant, it’s just sexy in the way a raw beauty sends her aura out, make-up-free, naked, and barefooted.

The narrow room is surrounded by rugged earth-red brick walls and floored with unpolished and un-patterned cement. In there sit dark round wooden tables and low, unpadded armchairs of Vietnam in 1970s. In the gentle lighting of bare yellow bulbs, a poignantly good collection of music sings from Turkish and Lebanese tunes to Leonard Cohen, Depeche Mode, Chet Baker and fantastic guys like Dominique A and Alain Bashung. 

Opened just before the end of 2008, Tadioto’s quickly gained the hearts of Hanoi’s artsy batches. Behind its charm is the charismatic Duc - a social chameleon as he admits, and a versatile artist himself.  In the name of the goodstuff preservation society, Anyarena had a brief conversation to learn more about Duc and his brainchild Tadioto.

How did the idea come up to open such a place? 
I was hoping to create a space where artists, writers, journalists, etc, and friends could meet, exchange ideas, work on projects, have a glass of wine together, etc. The readings and music performances, the art shows and special dinners, etc., are all geared toward that.
(The renovated old-style building also hosts a theatre design office, Duc’s personal exhibition room featuring his own and his local artist friends’ artwork, a meeting room for presentations, private dinners and special events, and  Dong Tay Today Foundation, a non-profit artist supporting organization.)

If Tadioto is a woman/man, how would you describe her/him?
A fun but quiet, relaxed person, searching for ideas and expressing him/herself among peers, welcoming others.  Someone who listens.

Who would fall in love with Tadioto?
A French filmmaker came by recently and said many artistic projects and ideas start out with people sitting at a bar, and Tadioto seems to be that kind of place. I hope people can be comfortable with others and themselves there. 

Who translated the idea into real life?
I worked with a Hanoi architect, and we kept to one idea: everything should be simple, using existing material when we can, no fancy stuff.  People compare it to places in Tokyo, New York, London.  The architect had a lot of problems with my ideas but he did a good job. 

A bit about you, you’re a writer, painter and…?
I wish I could say I am a writer and painter.  I’ve published some short stories and essays in Vietnamese and English, and a book.  Mostly I’ve translated a lot of short stories and some poetry.  I’ve had a few shows of my weird photography; but I’ve spent most of my adult life being a journalist.

What is your background?
Born in Dalat, grew up there and in Central Vietnam.  I spent many years abroad, working and being lost in big cities and small places everywhere; I came back to Viet Nam in 1989 for the first time and became very fond of Ha Noi.  I moved here over two years ago.

How have you adapted back into Hanoi in particular and Vietnam in general?
There have been difficult moments; Viet Nam has changed a lot, and so has Ha Noi.  But mostly it’s me—I need to constantly be aware of when I think like an Asian, and when I think like a foreigner.  I need to watch my habits, assumptions, and I hope I can be forgiven when I don’t act according to customs and new social rules.

How’s life being an artist running a bar?
People say people who work in a bar end up not drinking.  I suffer from an addictive personality, however, and must be careful.  The bar owns me at the moment, but I try to get a lot of work done during the day, even if I stay in the bar late at night.  Artists tend to work alone, and I isolate myself when I am writing.  So it’s wonderful having a bar to go to at night to meet friends and interesting people.

There’s a painting in the restroom which caricatures you and comes with the line, ‘once a con artist, now just a con’. Is there any story behind?
I’m always saying such stupid things.  Words and a funny way to look at yourself.  I also have an old picture of sinister characters gathered around a bottle of wine, and I’ve added my odd description for Tadioto – “a real classy joint for the gooks, the bad, and the ugly.”  I have a strange sense of humor.

If there is a thing you would like to change in this bar, what would it be?
It’s not the bar, but me.  I’d like to have more than one of me, so I can talk to more people.  Everyone is so interesting and I want to talk to them all. 

If there is a thing you would like to change in your life, what would it be?
I’d like to know how to fly a helicopter. I’d like to speak Japanese fluently. I’d like to have a year to live in India and Pakistan, and Turkey.  I like to be able to go across the Long Bien Bridge, turn left three steps and be in Morocco, turn right two steps and be in London. And then Venice.  And then I’d like to have grace.  To be a graceful person.  Generally I am grateful for the life I’ve been given.

What’s next with/after Tadioto?
Drifting quietly into the sunset, my head and conscience clear, my heart … well, that’s another life, another time.

Tadioto: 113 Trieu Viet Vuong, Hanoi. Tel: 04 2218 7200

WORDS: Chi Mai, PHOTOS: Tadioto + Chi Mai