Blacksmiths in Hanoi’s famed old quarter are the last of a dying breed.

Lo Ren Street now has the same glittering colour like any other street in the old quarter

The street is small like many others in Hanoi’s old quarter and its name, Lo Ren, or blacksmith, also represents the trade that the residents here have traditionally followed.

However, in this day and age, it is hard to imagine this place used to be the hub of Vietnamese blacksmiths. The street has the same glittering colour and is always bustling like any other street in the old quarter. Fortunately, there are still two addresses where visitors can learn about the place’s erstwhile trade.

At the place of old craftsmen, at Number 30, you can still see a small furnace. Being the fourth and last generation in his family to follow the trade, Nguyen Huu Lai, 65, seems rather proud to recall his family’s long tradition in the trade.

“In the past, Lo Ren Street was a familiar address for almost every farmer and construction contractor in Hanoi and its neighbouring areas,” he proudly shared, “To meet the demand of customers, my family’s furnace used to work every day from early morning until late at night.”

Not everyone can watch the old blacksmith at work. Lai directs visitors, who do not arrive on the right day, to No. 26.

“I do not forge very often now. Once in a while, I make some small tools, mainly for fun. Hung at No.26 works every day.”

Situated just a few metres away is Nguyen Phuong Hung’s tiny shop, tucked away between glittering garment and jewellery shops.

Born to a blacksmith father and with seven siblings, Hung is the only one that has carried on the trade.

“I may have witnessed the biggest changes in the history of the trade,” the middle-aged man says.

Hung’s family has practiced the trade for three generations but the golden period was during his grandfather’s time, he explains, “My grandfather brought the trade from Hoe Thi village and settled here. He was a skilled blacksmith who made the first weaving machine for Van Phuc Silk village based on a French version. My father mainly forged theatre instruments like swords, knives, etc.”

During his own early years in the family job, Hung forged agricultural tools like sickles, hoes, and ploughshares. “Now, machines are replacing them all. Also, our handmade knives, scissors … can’t compete with the cheap Chinese products on the market.”

Hung remembers that just a decade ago there were a few other families doing the work but now he is the only blacksmith on Lo Ren Street.

Hung is the last blacksmith in the capital now

“Like many other streets in the old quarter, services are booming here. Renting out a small room can earn you tens of millions a month. So who will be crazy enough to do such hard work like me? My friends started looking down on my work and advised me to quit this hard, humble job but I think every job has its own glory. I am proud I can make more sophisticated products than many modern machines. I love my work and I’ll do it all my life.”

He seems sad that his children don’t want to follow their family trade, “Like most young people today, they just don’t want to do manual work.”

Today, Hung mostly makes borers and concrete drilling tools. However, since he is the only blacksmith here, he has many orders to keep him busy and earn enough to enjoy a comfortable life.

The compensation is small compared to the amount of work required.

Sitting beside his 200-year-old furnace, wearing a torn shirt, dampened with sweat and smeared with soot, the blacksmith talks in a loud voice and tells his visitors to do the same.

“Anyone who has done this work will have problems with their ears. We have to live with the deafening noise every day,” he explained.

He also shows us many scars on his arms and hands.

On a hot summer day, the middle-aged blacksmith still seems very relaxed. He says he is always happy to welcome visitors who want to learn about his work in a trade that seems to be disappearing.