Thứ Sáu, 7 tháng 8, 2015

An annual market to wake a tortoise




Incense burns at Dinh market to pay tribute to those who have fallen to protect the land and to pray for good luck
Photos: Van Thien Tung
Vietnam Heritage, February 2011 -- Dinh Market, at the communal house of Bich La village, Trieu Phong District, Quang Tri Province, in Central Vietnam, runs from midnight to dawn on the third day of the New Year (it begins 48 hours after the start of the New Year). It is not held at any other time of the year.
According to oral tradition, a golden tortoise used to live in the nearby lake. It appeared on the morning of the third day of the New Year, and the harvest was good. One year it didn’t appear and the harvest failed.
Then every year people sought to make a commotion to wake the tortoise, and so the market came into existence.  
Toward afternoon on the second day of the New Year, people in my own village, about 5 kilometres away, are in a hurry getting ready to go to Dinh market. It seems everybody wants to go early in order to receive good luck from the saints.
Tradition is like the spring yeast that enables people to develop their divine feelings deep in their heart.
Four years ago I had an occasion to go to the market. I left home when it was still dark.  The market wasn’t excessively loud.
On both sides of the driveway leading to the communal house, women were sitting under dim light of oil lamps or candles. Vegetables were on sale. I could smell coriander leaves, the attractive stink of the houttuynia leaves and the sour smell of wild plants growing on the edge of a rice field.
I bought a clay whistle and played it. That year I was giving my mother a ride on my bicycle to sell fresh tea leaves, small bunches bound with string made from dry banana bark. The women sold young pepper plants to tinge fields green for the New Year.
The communal house is spiritually alive, with the sweet smell of incense sticks.
People light an incense stick and pray. I followed my mother into the house, made three bows and lighted incense. Since I didn't know what to wish for, I asked my mother what she wished for and she said she didn’t wish for anything. Are the people in my village strange? Even though they know the village god is spiritually alive, they do not wish for anything for themselves at the beginning of the New Year. They light the incense just to show respect toward their ancestors and deities.
Dinh Market brings villagers closer physically and mentally. In the middle of the night, the light coming from a few lamps is dim enough for people to elbow each other in the crowd.       
By Hoang Cong Danh

Bia Hoi In Hanoi

Armed with an unquenchable thirst for answering philosophical conundrums, Noey Neumark and Dara O Foghlu set off across the capital, fighting typhoons and falling trees in search of the holy grail of watering holes. Photos by Julie Vola

 Life is short and brutal, and before you know it you’ll be dead. So it’s important to find a good place to enjoy a drink with friends. Thankfully, there’s no shortage of bia hoi in Hanoi. However, it can be hard to find the right one. Of course, the 8,000-dong question is, what makes a good bia hoi? We decided to find out.


 
 1/ Bia Hoi Ha Noi
5A To Ngoc Van, Tay Ho

Our beer-a-thon kicks off on a Saturday afternoon in Tay Ho. A popular expat haunt, this bia hoi is also frequented by a steady crew of shirtless Vietnamese men, so there’s a nice mix of cultures here. The beer, at VND8,000 a glass, is very fresh, and they can rustle up a mean plate of ribs for VND90,000. Decor-wise, there’s not much to write home about, but the vibe here is good, and that counts for a lot.

The legendary ‘Soda Kid’ runs the place. A nocturnal beast, this five-year-old is fizzing with mischief. They say he is 90 percent bubbles and sugar water. At 4.47pm, he appears and promptly attacks another child with a green plastic sword. At the same time, the light drains from the day, and a purple storm cloud bursts overhead, with rain coming down so heavily that everyone must shout to make conversation. An end-of-the-world giddiness comes over us, except for Soda Kid who feels upstaged by the typhoon and takes to sullenly poking the ground with the tip of his sword. Then lightning zaps the roof, and a blonde English girl falls off her chair. She laughs. We laugh. These are some good times. After two beers, the rain eases and we head to our next port of call.

Come Here For: Soda Kid; pre-gaming for Hanoi Rock City, Madake or Eden; a good mix of expats and locals; top-notch rain plan.

Drawbacks: At night, the fluorescent lighting gives this place the atmosphere of a dental surgery. The bathroom is terrifying during a power outage.


 
2/ Bia Hoi Cuong Hoi
264 Thuy Khue, Tay Ho

This massive drinking emporium on West Lake’s southern shore spreads over two dining rooms and houses fish tanks and a factory-scale beer pouring station. The crowd ranges from Vietnamese hipsters to buttoned-up businessmen to extended families going all out for a reunion. Our neighbours welcome us with jubilant glass-clinking and the servers are friendly, too. The beer here (VND6,000 / glass) lacks proper fizz and leaves a disconcerting aftertaste, but the food and atmosphere more than make up for it. We devour some exceptional tofu in a pool of tomato sauce (VND40,000). The flavour is heavenly and the tofu’s crisp is legit. Seeking comfort from the apocalyptic storm, we slurp the sauce from our bowls like starving cats. It’s that good. We want to stay forever but must pry ourselves away from our miniature table and forge onward.

Come Here For: Starting out with a day drink and stumbling out at midnight not knowing what happened but being certain you had a fantastic time; the food; the view; the impeccably clean bathroom.

Drawbacks: Not the best beer. Also, the first sight upon entering was the head of a cooked dog.


 
3/ Bia Hoi Ha Noi
19C Ngoc Ha, Ba Dinh

Adjacent to the botanical gardens and Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, it’s possible that on a sunny afternoon this is an Eden-like escape with welcoming waiters and friendly patrons. On this night, however, which is wetter than an otter’s pocket, that is not the case. The benches under the trees are open to the rain, so we sit in the covered area under the bright strip lighting.

Our surly waitress takes our order of beers (VND10,000 / glass) and deep-fried frog. The frog is delicious, making it all the more heart-wrenching when Miss Personality returns and tells us that the dish is not for us. She plucks the half-eaten frogs from our bowls, and rearranges the dish to make it look full again (using her hands — no, no, no!) before serving it to the table behind us. As the frog is now sold out, we begrudgingly order cuttlefish stir-fried with pineapple (VND125,000). When it arrives, we greet it like parents disappointed in their second-born child — smiling weakly and muttering false platitudes. We scrape off the ungodly amount of dill, scoff the cuttlefish, and get the hell out.

Come Here For: Nice garden area; private rooms for plotting world domination; fantastic deep-fried frog.

Drawbacks: Unfriendly waiting staff; squat toilets.


 
4/ X98, Beer 2KU
X98 Hoang Cau, Dong Da

The X98 complex is modern and artsy, with nary a fluorescent bulb in sight. We meander through the multi-level, multi-room beer complex, settling on the most bia hoi-esque option, Beer 2KU. Unlike your standard bia hoi, we have a range of beers to choose from; it’s overwhelming but appreciated. Beers are served in glasses or towers, and we seem to be the only ones here who’ve ordered the former. Now there, friends, is a good work ethic.

Groups of Vietnamese twentysomethings surround us. The ratio of men to women is nearly equal. American pop music blares. It seems we’ve happened upon a bia hoi for the next generation, something approaching a beer club, and the future looks good. We make light work of our 500ml beers while stuffing our faces with nem nam (fermented pork skin rolled up in herbs), banana flower salad with pig ear, and spicy-sour nem chua.

Our mouths are on fire and somehow seven hours have passed since we first convened, so we call it a night.

Come Here For: Great food, great vibe; dark beer.

Drawbacks: No shirtless men. Also, as much as Noey has a soft spot for American pop music, every time she hears Maroon 5’s Animals, she says she wants to hide for 10 years in a soundproof beer keg.



The Next Installment

Day two begins with a swerving motorbike ride around strewn tree branches; that storm has left the city with one hell of a hangover. The clean-up crews are out in force taking chainsaws to Gulliver-sized trees whose roots have hauled up sections of pavement. The city that always beeps may be in disarray, but there is some serious drinking to be done, so we meet at 5pm when we’re feeling human again.


 
5/ Pacific Bia Hoi
281 Doi Can, Ba Dinh

Sequestered behind a bus depot some way from the road, thePacific Bia Hoi is another large-scale affair made for wholesale drinking. The place is quiet when we get there, however, and is nicely gilded by the evening light. We sit on adult-sized chairs at tables overlaid with white and purple tablecloths. It’s an incredibly sophisticated start to what will inevitably be another messy night.

We pop open an aluminium jug of Bia Ha Noi, which is good and even slightly malty. There is a narrow margin of quality and flavour when it comes to bia hoi brews, so when you find something with even a modicum of taste it’s a rare pleasure indeed. The Thailand-style beef is fine, but decidedly un-Thailandish. The Pacific nem (VND80,000) on the other hand, are good enough to make a hungover man cry tears of joy.

Come Here For: Mad decent VND70,000 beer jugs; friendly staff; the sunset.

Drawbacks: Nothing much to gripe about here, although the layout gives the place a bit of a wedding party vibe, which is not necessarily a bad thing, especially, say, if you’re there for a wedding.


 
6/Bia Hoa Vien
1A Tang Bat Ho, Hai Ba Trung

Hai Ba Trung District is a fancy area, so it’s no surprise that this Czech-style beer drinking hall is a bit more upmarket than your bog-standard bia hoi. Approaching the colossal facade of the Brauhaus is like coming up to Willy Wonka’s brewery with a golden ticket in your hand. Sure, the ‘typical Czech’ décor probably came out of some identikit box, but any lack of true authenticity in this regard is redeemed by the truly authentic beer, brewed in-haus. Oh, the beer! A one-litre bottle of cloudy and robust beer costs VND100,000, and it’s worth every last dong. The source is a gleaming copper vat behind the bar. That heroic patron saint of childhood gluttons, Augustus Gloop, would find a happy home inside it.

Sadly, with more bia hoi joints on the agenda, we must leave. But we leave fortified in the knowledge that such beer exists in Hanoi. As Wonka himself once said, “So shines a good beer in a weary world...”

Come Here For: Possibly the best beer in Hanoi; the fried cheese; the Hoa Vien sausage.

Drawbacks: All beers after this are relegated into a minor league.


 
7/Bia Hoi Huong Hai
56 Yen Bai, Hai Ba Trung

Our caravan scoots through sheets of rain, getting lost and then found in the Hai Ba Trung jumble of one-way streets before finally reaching the narrow alleyway of Yen Bai. Topless men cheer us on as we weave towards the entrance: an auspicious beginning. We’ve come for the black pepper beef, which has the consistency of goopy snot. However, what the beef sauce lacks in aesthetics it makes up for in personality; the pepper’s spice is tempered by sweetness and just the right amount of MSG.

We drink enough beer that that one of our group is forced to check out the bathroom. A server pulls them across the street to a door in the kitchen. She yells to a chi inside and our compadre hears water shut off and the sound of someone scampering. Giggling, she nudges them in, leaving the sliding door ajar. To the right, buckets of laundry litter the ground, and a ladder leads upstairs. To the left, a small drain. Our friend pokes their head outside and says “Where?” Shrill laughter ensues and the drinking partner understands that there’s nothing waiting for them upstairs; it’s only the drain.

Come Here For: Black pepper beef; nice beer; the service; the crowd.

Drawbacks: The bathroom-laundry room hybrid.



At this point it’s pouring again, and we’re stuffed to the brim with beer and beef, so we responsibly plan to resume after the Monday workday.


 
8/ Quan Xanh
67-69 Tran Nhan Tong, Hai Ba Trung

A festering foot injury unrelated to the previous nights’ drinking prompts Dara to visit the hospital. The doctor asks him what he does here, and he replies that he’s writing about bia hoi in Hanoi. “Oh,” she says, and makes a face like she’s just burp-puked. “I don’t like them. My husband is an engineer, and he goes there every day, good or bad. There are too many reasons to go to a bia hoi in Vietnam.”

After the doctor reassures Dara that his foot isn’t going to fall off, he goes to the bia hoi to drink to his health (a solid reason). Quan Xanh is an oasis of calm next to the circus rotunda at the north end of Reunification Park. He’s two hours too early to meet the others, so he gets comfortable with a book under a canopy of creeping vines and hanging roots. Although the draught beer is unexciting and relatively expensive (glass of Tiger / VND30,000), this place still has the garden, the attentive staff, the quality food. It’s a bit like Singapore, really. Some people like it because it’s clean and orderly, while others hate it for exactly the same reasons.

However, if you like okey-dokey beer in a place where fancy beer girls saunter around in green velour cocktail dresses, then this is the place for you.

Come Here For: An intimate beer garden, and a free salad with five beers.

Drawbacks: Middle-of-the-road beer; kinda pricey for what you get.


 
9/ Bia Lan Chin
22 Hang Tre, Hoan Kiem

Pulling up to the last stop feels surreal. Have we become the beer equivalent of Soda Kid? Delirium is setting in. The penultimate round of beer emerges, and it’s as perfect as bia hoi gets: frothy, crisp, sweet. We order another round and flip through the massive menu, which reads like a passenger list for Noah’s Ark. Dishes range from stir-fried geoduck with polygonum leaves, something straight out of Harry Potter, to snail with green banana and tofu (VND150,000). Fearing wizardry yet craving some intrigue, we opt for the latter. It’s odd but tasty, and the bites of juicy shallots and fatty pork steal the show.

The air is soupy and the fans point elsewhere. The ladies in our group are forced to pile their sticky hair into high buns. Ah, to be a woman in a bia hoi. Noey says she could write a whole feminist discourse on the gender inequality inherent in these establishments, but she’s far too drunk for that. Some preliminary evidence: the ladies’ room has been bolted shut. Only urinals here, folks.

Come Here For: Experimental eating; good cheap beer; local vibes.

Drawbacks: The bathroom, if you don’t stand to pee; the heat from the street and lack of fans.



In Conclusion

Did we get to the bottom of our philosophical pondering on bia hoi-ness? Perhaps the only things we got to the bottom of were 50 glasses of beer. However, in a world of doubt and subjectivity, our extensive scholarly research yielded, at the very least, some drunken opinions that we can defend with belligerence.

Bia hoi joints are more than just the fresh beer, cheap food, and fluorescent lighting. A bia hoi is its particular atmosphere, a unique experience on a given night, and a social pivot point where cultures meet. Of course, what makes any one better than another depends on your wallet, taste in beers, and tolerance of dinginess.

Before you get all huffy at us for leaving out your favourite bia hoi, let us state for the record that had we done an exhaustive bia hoi crawl of Hanoi, we’d probably not have the lifeblood in us to write our last will and testament, let alone this article. So we selected nine bia hoi that, as far as bia hoi go, offered diversity,

Now, onward comrades. If the question is to bia or not to bia, the answer lies clearly ahead.

Com Ga Xoi Mo

Fried chicken with rice. Photo by Glen Riley
This month, Simon Stanley samples Saigon’s take on a classic — fried chicken and rice. Photos by Glen Riley

There aren’t many corners of the globe where poultry and hot oil isn’t being combined in some glorious, crispy, sizzling manifestation of deliciousness. And Vietnam is no exception. With over 140 KFC outlets now in operation across the country, the good Colonel’s offerings are never more than a website click away. Of course, for the connoisseurs among you, a branch of Popeye’s isn’t too hard to find either. Now I’m not here to judge, but I’ll take eating from a china plate over a bucket any day.

But enough preamble. This is Vietnam, and we are street snackers. The pavement is our dining room — and I’m hungry.

Napkins At The Ready

SuSu fried chicken joint. THE place for the good stuff. Photo by Glen Riley

Tucked inside the ground floor pocket of a crumbling colonial residence, beneath a large illuminated cartoon chicken and flanked by a lineup of crooked patchwork parasols, Com Ga Xoi Mo Su Su is one of Saigon’s favourite spots for fried chicken and rice.

Without menus, the choice is simple — leg (including the thigh) or wing (including the breast). My dining companion and I point to our own legs in unison and our order is placed. And here’s where things get interesting.

Peering inside the kitchen, it’s clear that this is no ordinary chicken shop. A literal translation of xoi mo comes out as ‘flush the fat’. Doesn’t sound too appetising, but hang in there. While most commercial frying methods see either partial or complete submersion in hot oil, another traditional option is to continually pour the bubbling inferno over the meat by hand.

But dinnertime is nigh and the hungry masses are approaching. Cooking each piece of meat to order will take a lot of hands or a lot of time. What to do?

Enter Su Su’s secret weapon: a veritable fried chicken factory of a machine designed and built by the restaurant’s owner. In standby mode, it could be any normal industrial catering device — a shiny aluminium grill perhaps — but flick the red power button and stand back. Somewhere in its core a motor whirs to life and from a raised reservoir a deluge of hot oil rains down tropical-storm fashion, blanketing the wire rack of chicken below before being collected and pumped back to the top. I’ve never seen anything like it.

VFC

On the grill. Photo by Glen Riley

Inventiveness aside, how does it all taste? I’m quite picky when it comes to chicken skin — it has to be crisp and not too slimy. Su Su’s is just that. Arriving steaming and still sizzling, it’s textbook golden brown in colour and smells divine. The meat inside is juicy without being saturated (a result of the pouring method), and the secret recipe dipping sauce adds a kick of flavour. Tasting like a soy-barbecue-teriyaki hybrid and loaded with fresh garlic, we’re devouring it.

Looking at the plates of other diners, it seems that some portions are bigger than others. Su Su’s chickens clearly vary in plumpness. I make a mental note to ask for a fatter bird next time as my serving is stripped to the bone and gone all too soon.

Com Ga Xoi Mo Su Su is at 55 Tu Xuong, Q3, Ho Chi Minh City. Meals are VND40,000, or VND30,000 for chicken only

The Expat’s Guide to Travelling with Dad

Though it had been a while since Ed Weinberg went on vacation with Dad, two father-son weeks reminded him what boys’ vacations are all about

On my third trip home since moving to Saigon, everyone started coming around. This time, the standard question “When are you coming back?” lost a bit of its currency. And Dad started to make vague comments about coming for a visit.

After some back-and-forth — involving food photos, viral videos and a harder sell than I’d yet given him — our plans evolved. He’d come over at the start of Tet break, celebrate his 70th birthday on Feb. 19 with all the other ‘Tet orphans’, then accompany me on my first whole-country travel. 

On Feb. 17, Dad arrived. Fresh off 24 hours in transit, he was raring to go. I took him to the Tet flower market on the back of my bike. He thrilled at seeing a passing biker with seven beer cases stacked between his legs. He’d never expressed too much interest in my adoptive home, but now I could see it written on his face, and in all those photos he made me pose in.

Over the next couple Saigon days, we puttered around a bit. We saw the fireworks, and went over to my cleaner’s house the next day for Tet lunch. That night he blew out the candles on another birthday. A few friends came, and we Skyped my mother in when it was time for the birthday speech.

The next day we woke up, scrambled to the airport, and started our 12-day, five-stop grind.

Dad’s Dream


I’d budgeted in three nights for Siem Reap — the only stop he’d explicitly requested — and booked the hotel. We thought getting the tour guide would be the easy part. But nothing is easy over Tet. We booked a car to take us around the temples, starting at sunrise. When our driver told us he’d wait in the car, we realised the deal. Siem Reap buyers beware: you will get charged for everything.

We chinned up and went exploring, along with 1,000 other people. But after an hour of bumping around and taking pictures of statues, we decided to look for some guidance. And here’s where we encountered our first challenge.

All of the tour guides were booked up, of course. But Dad improvised. While I went to the bathroom, he chatted with strangers. And a nice couple from California ended up inviting us to share their tour.

Our guide was the cheeky and knowledgeable Ho Kimhoeun — Kim for short (kimhoeun.kpt@gmail.com). He had jokes, which my Dad loves. He also had a good amount of experience. I can’t remember the number of times my Dad expressed our good luck at finding him.


Day 1 was the small temple loop — Angkor Wat, Bayon (the one with 216 faces of the god-king carved in) and the tree-swarmed Tomb Raider temple. Then we attended the Vaudevillian Phare circus (pharecambodiancircus.org). It was super cool. Dad loves cultural stuff.

Day 2 was the large temple loop — far less crowded, no less beautiful. That night we went to Park Hyatt Siem Reap’s (siemreap.park.hyatt.com) free Apsara dance performance — damn spectacular, taking place twice weekly in the Hyatt’s pristine, fire-lit central courtyard. Then we met some friends at 1940s Shanghai-style Madame Wong Cocktail Bar (misswong.net) for a drink, which is more my kind of cultural experience.

Day 3 we headed to Kulen Mountain — the magic mountain where the Angkor kings harvested their temple stone. This was a holy place, a place of pilgrimage, where even the tourists seemed to be part of the magic.

The Fortune-Telling Monk


When Kim offered us a turn at prophecy, Dad told him a story. It was nearly 30 years ago that he got his last fortune told, this time in tarot. And it was damning. That night, he got a call about his mother — she’d just had a stroke. Over the next year, as both of his parents’ health deteriorated, his business struggled. The young man who’d told his fortune — one of my mother’s students — never read tarot again.

I, however, told Kim I’d do it.

I put a thin folio of Hindu Vedas on my head, parting its pages with a pencil. Handing it back to the monk, he told me about the page I’d landed on, describing Armara.

“Armara was chosen by the king, Mohov Shuth, to be his queen,” Kim translated. “She was a commoner, and was elevated to the royalty. Armara was really good, she was really educated, really useful. Everything got better.” 

I asked about her parents — I’d made my pre-fortune wish for the happiness and good health of mine — and Kim said, “Sure, of course! For her parents too.”

Seeing my good luck, Dad decided to give it a try too. And he landed on the worst page in the book — about Yama, the god of judgment, who normally exists between hell and earth. When I asked Kim about Yama, he said, “In one day, the god of Yama got into hell to see what was going on. In one day, the assistants of the Yama burned everything in the hell.” 

His wish had been for my good fortune.

On Kim’s urging, we started spreading money around — 100 Riel notes (VND500) to anyone who asked. We went up a winding staircase to pay our respects to the golden Buddha carved into the mountaintop, touching his eyes and mouth, dropping 100’s everywhere we could.

Later, swimming under a nearby waterfall, dunking young monks underwater while Dad watched, I felt like we’d finally redeemed ourselves.

Father Knows Best


Dad warned me that if we did certain things in our fairly upmarket hotels, we wouldn’t be invited back. He reminded me to write a TripAdvisor review for Karavansara, our Siem Reap accommodation. The sweet young manager Rel apparently talked with him for “10 minutes” about how nice it would be if we would do this. “It’s a good job for her,” he reasoned, “and it’s a small thing we can do to help her out.”

Sideways related to this is something I slowly realised: Dad is a prototypical mark. A woman approached us after our overpriced boat ride into Cambodia’s Tonle Sap Lake, holding plates adorned with our blinking, mid-conversation faces, and Dad seemed to entertain her US$10 offer. Small moves that help me to avoid rip-offs in my daily life — like ordering food in Vietnamese — were futile. We paid VND50,000 a bowl for our streetside pho on our first night in Hanoi. I wasn’t looking to cause a scene. 

The next day, Dad wanted to do some washing. Our schedule was pretty tight, only two nights in each place minus travel time. But Dad brought the Woolite. 

After he did some sink washing we headed out for the night, leaving the shirts and underwear hanging by an open window. But Hanoi’s a bitch for line-drying, especially when your window opens onto a wall. 

Everything was still damp when we got back, and we were leaving the hotel at 7.30am the next morning. So Dad improvised, and took the blow dryer to each article of clothing separately. I can still hear that sound in my mind. 

This ties into Pro Tip #1: if it makes him happy, don’t fight it. Maybe Dad wants to spend your siesta time washing clothes he doesn’t need in the sink, maybe he wants to buy a US$10 T-shirt at Angkor Wat. If he’s happy, you should be happy. 

Understanding Vietnam


I don’t know about your dads, but mine is the smartest man in the world.

In the morning, Dad was reading a book I bought him before the trip, Neil L. Jamieson’s Understanding Vietnam (never mind the two other books he tore through in the first week). Though I bought the book for him, I didn’t get past the first 30 pages, and he was teaching me things.

He read a poem to me at breakfast about colonial resentment:

Marry a mere boy for rice and a tunic?

Even in hunger and rags one still knows shame.

My parents taught me long ago,

A girl who runs after boys brings ridicule upon herself.

— Nguyen Khuyen

Like our tour guide in Siem Reap, this book gave Dad some context. It helped him to better understand what’s evolved here. 

Later, we wandered into an exhibition of art about Hanoi’s Long Bien Bridge, at Maison des Arts (maisondesartshanoi.com). Dad had just read about its birth, and this encounter was one of those synchronistic travel threads it seemed we were meant to pick up.

The owner, Nga, told us about her project, while Dad wisely held back. He’d just read about Paul Doumer, the governor-general of French Indochina at the time. During the bridge’s three-year construction, 3,000 forced labourers were drafted, many dying on the way to its completion.

But when Nga told us her motivation for preserving Long Bien, Dad began to understand how Vietnamese people make sense of their complex history.

“We believe there are many souls under the bridge,” Nga said.

The Rest of the Trip


I don’t want this to turn into one of my Skype phone calls home (Mom will be more than happy to fill you in on the details). Suffice it to say we had fun, through cafés, hotels and laundry blow-drying sessions. We did some light tourism in Hue’s Imperial City and on Victoria Can Tho’s up-river excursions. I tried to match Dad up with some cool, age-appropriate friends. Even now, a month after him leaving, my friends are still asking about him — and teasing me about having had a glimpse into my future.

We slowed down after Hanoi — we did about six different things in our one full day there — instead concentrating on eating well, hanging out in our lush hotels (and swimming in La Résidence Hue’s and Victoria Can Tho’s lush pools) and walking around aimlessly. These are basically the things I do in my everyday life here, the life I wanted to let Dad see.

When we returned to Saigon, we met more friends, went to more cafés. We bought more shirts (to make a total of 20+ on the trip), and spent one of our dinners going place to place to get in as much of my local favourites as we could. The next night, Dad took my friends out to Cuc Gach Quan.

On the morning he was leaving, he told me something he’d expressed a few times already. “I see why you want to live here,” he said. He saw the energy of this place, he went on, it was all around.

And that’s the best thing he left me with, besides for a five-pound salami and two loaves of rye bread. The idea that he gets what my life here is about, and he approves. 



A Quick Intro to Dad

— He was born in Philadelphia, and currently resides in New Jersey

— He owns a documentary film distribution business

— While working in the New York City Dept. of City Planning, he supported my Uncle Fred’s petition about releasing snakes in the city to help with the rat problem 

— He loves classical music, and thinks our cat does too

— He once ate 14 lobsters at a single lobster buffet sitting

Where We Stayed

Siem Reap — Karavansara Retreat (karavansara.com)
A boutique-styled hotel with a trellised, white Modernist concrete facade. Their sister property is in Kyoto, Japan

Hanoi — Tryst Hotel (trysthotel.com)
A tidy, sleek and inexpensive location near Hanoi’s Old Quarter. We never did learn why it was called “Tryst”

Hue — La Résidence (la-residence-hue.com)
A luxury hotel adapted from the old French governor’s mansion, with a beautiful pool added on. The colonial aura was strong in this one

Hoi An — Pomelo Garden Homestay Villa (pomelohomestay.com)
This four-room homestay was built by two former five-star hotel employees, right near a bucolic shrimp pond

Can Tho — Victoria Can Tho Resort (victoriahotels.asia/cantho)
Our last stop of the trip, Victoria Can Tho provided the relaxation we were looking for — in an all-inclusive resort type of setting

The Old Houses of Duong Lam

Where people are hospitable, there’s no need to confine your urban exploits to abandoned houses. David Mann (words), Julie Vola(photos) and Mai Thu Trang (translation) found such people in Duong Lam, householders of some of the oldest houses in Vietnam

For the average tourist, getting lost in the alleys of one of Vietnam’s oldest villages, Duong Lam, probably doesn’t rank high on the to-do list. But there are plenty of reasons why it should.

Located just a smidgen over 50km west of Hanoi, Duong Lam was once the heart of a bustling urban centre, famed for its trade and pottery, and the birthplace of not one but two of Vietnam’s founding kings.

Recognised by UNESCO in 2013 for its restoration efforts, Duong Lam’s centuries-old laterite brick houses, gated archways and paved alleys are a far cry from the concrete and steel leaping out of the ground in the nation’s capital.

Accessible by motorcycle, the fairly comfortable ride to this ancient citadel follows the Red River to the historic town of Son Tay, offering amazing views of rural agricultural landscapes along the way.

Duong Lam isn’t exactly a bustling tourist hot spot, and the foreigners who do visit are whisked through the town from the north, with routine stops made at Duong Lam’s best-known attractions.

These are well worth a look themselves, especially Mong Phu Temple in Mong Phu Hamlet, Mia Pagoda and Ngo Quyen Temple, dedicated to the general who expelled the Chinese from northern Vietnam at the end of the 10th century.

But it is away from Duong Lam’s celebrated attractions that the erstwhile explorer can really uncover the layers of this serene, ancient city.
 
Alley Detour

Starting at the southern end of Duong Lam Village on Doai Giap Road, you’ll soon find yourself navigating a maze of narrow stone alleyways, weaving their way past high walls and wooden doors concealing secret gardens and passageways.

While these parts are rarely seen by tourists, that isn’t to say that visitors aren’t welcome. In fact, quite the opposite.

Our first stop was a house we stumbled upon in the back alley ofCho Mia. The roof was old but fragile, the laterite masonry aged but beautiful. Bike tyres hung suspended under each pillar holding up its dilapidated roof. Then Quang beckoned us in.

The house was 135 years old and had been in Quang’s family for three generations. The decorated army veteran lived with his wife, who told us the town’s prized heritage status had been a double-edged sword. “The house is old and needs work, but we have to get permission to renovate,” she said.

Half-an-hour later we were back on our unguided walkabout, and soon stumbled upon a handsome wooden facade surrounded by high brick walls and emerald vines — the vines completely covering the top of the wall, further hiding it from the outside world.

We knocked and heard footsteps approaching from the other side. An aged face appeared, bewildered by the two foreigners standing and smiling sheepishly. Our translator jumped in to save us, detailing our crusade to see the ancient wooden houses hidden behind the walls. The householder, Binh, then smiled and beckoned us to follow him.

“You’re lucky, not many locals would invite a foreigner inside for tea unless you paid them,” our translator said as we climbed our way through the shutters of the 300-year-old timber house.

“This house has been here since before the French,” said Binh. “Even before my grandparents were born — and it is still standing strong. It even withstood fighting from the war.”

We looked up and admired the dark wooden beams, decorated with photos of airbrushed smiling babies and of a time when Binh and his wife once toiled in the fields as farmers.

Despite being 72 years old and barely clearing five feet, Binh wasn’t short on personality. At one point, he slapped my chest and raised his hand up to my head, questioning the source of my six-foot, two-inch frame.

As we prepared to leave, he showed us his cheeky grin and poured us a second glass of tea. Raising his glass, he said, “A good life is one with tea, adventures, alcohol and beautiful women.”

I say cheers to that, Binh.

Where the lover lived

In 1867, after occupying the entire southern region of Vietnam, the French colonists built many villas for their officials. Since then, French architecture has influenced many Vietnamese wealthy landlords’ houses. Nowadays, there are still many old houses with the combination of Eastern and Western architectural style left in Mekong Delta, a locale once famous for playboy landlords.
The most well-known old house is at 255 A, Nguyen Hue Street, Ward 2, Sa Dec Town, Dong Thap Province, though it is neither the oldest nor the biggest.
Its fame is due to its being frequently mentioned in a best-selling semi-autobiographical novel, which has been translated to 43 languages, has sold 2.4 million copies and was awarded the 1984 Prix Goncourt, a prestigious French prize. It is “L’Amante” (The Lover) written by the French writer Marguerite Duras and was published in 1984 by Les Éditions de Minuit.
The novel is about a love affair, which started “at first sight,” but ended in resentful tears, between the owner of the house - a Chinese-Vietnamese landlord named Huynh Thuy Le, 32, and the author, when she was 15. The affair was said to be real and set in 1929 in Saigon and the Mekong Delta.


Mr Huynh Thuy Le.

The house became more famous after the novel was adapted into a film under the same name. Director Jacques Annaud included many erotic scenes, which are reportedly so steamy that they were censored when the film was shown in Vietnam.


Inside of the house of Mr Huynh Thuy Le.

In 2010, the government declared the house a ‘national relic’. According to the information stated on the Dong Thap Province website, after the death of Mr Huynh Thuy Le in 1972, his five children left to reside abroad and the house was requisitioned as the police station of Sa Dec Town. In 2007, the Department of Culture, Sports and Tourism of Dong Thap Province proposed that the police station be moved to another place, so that they could open the house to public and offer tours to visitors.
While I was sipping tea and having ginger jam with other visitors, Ms Tuyen, a tourist guide, told us that the house was built in 1885 by Mr Huynh Cam Thuan, Le’s father and a real estate magnate. At that time, the house, designed in the Chinese – Vietnamese architectural style, was made completely from rare wood and has an area of 258 square metres. In 1917, Mr Thuan built a brick coat in the French architectural style over the wood house.
‘Mr Thuan was one of the richest men in Sa Dec Town, and his house was renowned for being the biggest,’ Ms Tuyen said.
‘The Vietnamese architecture is displayed outstandingly on the three-compartment structure and the roof covered with yin-yang double tiles, while the French architecture can be seen on the house’s façade, floor and ceiling, which are embossed with Renaissance-style patterns. In particular, the domes above the doors, windows and gates are in the Roman architectural style, which gives the house spacious and airy feeling. Furthermore, the Chinese aspects can be recognized on the wardrobes, beds and altars, which are carved and lacquered skilfully with dragons, birds and plants such as orchids, champacas, chrysanthemums, bamboos and apricots to show the landlord’s wealth and superior rank.’
Ms Tuyen added that since 2010, tens of thousands of foreigners have come to visit the house every year, of which French visitors account for 50 per cent. Many cultural researchers and architects also visit the house.
Standing in the living room, Ms Tuyen pointed at the wall displaying photos of Duras in her childhood and after completing the novel, and of Mr Le’s family: himself, his Chinese wife and children.
‘Mr Huynh Thuy Le married a Chinese because Mr Thuan strongly disapproved his son’s marriage with a “white girl” and because Duras’ mother and her older brother refused to let her get married to a local man. As soon as he married, Mr Huynh Thuy Le became the heir of the house.’
The ceiling of the living room is carved with a big dragon encircled by four bats holding coins in their mouths. Ms Tuyen said, ‘These decorations symbolize the affluence of the owner.’


The altar honouring saint Guan Yu

Stepping to the front of the altar at the centre of the living room, which is dense with encrusted and lacquered patterns, Ms Tuyen said, ‘This is the altar honouring saint Guan Yu (also named Guan Gong). According to the ancient customs, the Chinese, especially businessmen, often worshipped this deity for power and prosperity. Because the altar of Guan Yu is the soul of the house, it is encrusted with ornate patterns which characterize the most typical of Chinese culture.’
Behind the living room are two wooden bedrooms carved elaborately with various patterns. On the left side is the room for the boys of the family, whose door was carved with images of urns, swords and books. On the right side was the room for the girls of the family, which was identified by silk ribbons, flowers and leaves. Nowadays, visitors can rent these rooms for a homestay night at the price of VND900,000 for a room for two.’
Scattered inside the house are tools and furniture, which are said have been used by Mr Huynh Thuy Le’s family, such as a safe, a make-up table, a wine cabinet, and a bookshelf.
    There is a one-night tour for VND800,000 – VND1,000,000/person (depending on the number of visitors). Price includes a visit to Sa Dec school - where Marguerite Duras’ mother worked as a principal, a visit to Kien An Cung pagoda- which Huynh Thuy Le’s father donated to about 100 years ago, a visit to the flower village of Sa Dec - one of the biggest traditional flower growing community in Vietnam and a sailing trip to discover Xeo Quit forest - a national historic relic. Tel: +84 (67) 3773 937, or Email: nhaco_huynhthuyle@yahoo.com. Entrance fee to the house is VND25,000/person with guides in English and French.
Text and photos by Nguyen Dang Khoa

Allure of the land of the fabled mountain


  
Balck Lady Mountain. Photo:Than Tinh


Inside the Cao Dai Complex. Photo: Thu Ba

From the top of a high building in Saigon, if the weather is clear and you face northwest, visible on the horizon is a lone mountain. Mountains for me have a magnetic quality. I feel the desire to conquer them; this one particularly, as it has the mysterious name of the Black Lady Mountain.
Black Lady Mountain is situated near the town of Tay Ninh. Tay Ninh has two main tourist draws. Firstly, the mountain itself has a temple complex and remnants from the ‘American War’. Secondly, a tour of Cao Dai Grand Temple complex makes a trip worthwhile. Most folk would do this on a day tour from Saigon, perhaps even doing the Cu Chi tunnels on the way out or back. However, I would recommend taking a more leisurely approach, as we did, by staying at Hoa Binh hotel for a couple of nights. It is government-run, so do not expect anyone to leap to carry your bags, but we had a well-appointed VIProom which came with a balcony and a superb view of the mountain for only 600,000 dongs per night, including taxes and extras you do not find in Saigon such as bird songs and fresh air. With its simple Vietnamese rice dishes, I can vouch the food we tasted here was also clean, good and cheap.
On the afternoon of our arrival, my son-in-law, Lam, turned up with his motorbike to take me to the Cao Dai complex. It is large, with dual-lane roads running through it and occupying eight hectares. Lam was the right person to go with, as his family are Cao Dai adherents. Housed on this land is a school, a large garden nursery, part of the original forest conserved as a monkey sanctuary and a mausoleum to a founder. There are in fact, two temples. The smaller, often left off the itinerary, is dedicated to the Divine Mother, but it is beautiful and worth a look at. The ‘Kingpin’ attraction is the Grand Temple of the Divine Father.
Cao Daism, the religion of the era of improved transportation, is syncretic in nature, drawing on elements of all the world's great religions. The architecture of the Grand Temple with apse, nave and columns borrows heavily from that of a church. Much of the very ornate decoration is oriental, featuring dragons, snakes, storks and figures in Eastern garb. Some people, including Graham Greene, have found it Disneyesque, but I disagree. For me it is colourful, cheerful and aesthetic. Look up to the vaulted ceiling to see a heaven painted sky-blue with fluffy white clouds and a scattering of stars. In the lobby, a mural gives a summary of the religion. It is of the three ‘signatories of the third alliance between God and Mankind’. They are author Victor Hugo, Sun Yet Sen and the home-grown prophet Nguyen Binh Nhiem, writing the Cao Dai mantra of ‘God and humanity, love and justice’ in French and Chinese onto a shining celestial tablet.
The next day was New Year's Day and traditionally a day for visiting pagodas. The Nui Ba Den, or Black Lady Mountain, was packed. All human life was here, from little old ladies in sandals down to four-year-olds clambering gleefully up the steps. Though steep in places, the wide staircase with railings goes all the way up and there are plenty of benches to take a rest. Many tea and souvenir shops were also open, making for a carnival atmosphere. Proceeding at a leisurely pace, it took Lam and I just under an hour to reach the Lady of the Mountain Pagoda and ten minutes more to reach another housed around a cave.
We descended via the new cable car. We sat back and enjoyed superb verdant views of the sugar cane and rice fields, orchards and rubber plantations. To one side, we could also see the blue of Lake Dau Tieng, which according to Lam, is Vietnam's largest. Also, we could something like a bobsleigh run twisting and turning through the trees. This is the slideway. I would have loved to have taken that, but it was closed for repairs.
Once near the base, Lam took me along a path and over a footbridge to a cave, which had once been occupied by liberation forces. There are realistic mock-ups of fighters planning a raid, communicating by radio and preparing food. If you climb all the way to the summit, you can see the remains, including bunkers and the heliport of the American Camp Ba Den.
What of the legend of the Black Lady? There appear to be several different ones. One is of a woman who, upon being attacked by robbers, opted to save her honour by jumping off a cliff. I have heard that one more than once on my travels in China. Another Khmer legend has her as a young woman who wished to devote her life to Buddhism. Rather than obey her father's command to get married, she committed suicide on the mountain.
Back at the in-laws' house, my wife had returned from a shopping trip. She was full of praise for the Tay Ninh Market. It is huge, occupying two hectares, and is privately run. In Mrs de Rouvray's opinion, it surpasses the Ben Thanh Market and is, of course, a great deal cheaper.
On the subject of food, in Tay Ninh Province, closer to Saigon and on the same road, sits the town of Trang Bang. In this area, you will see many roadside stalls selling Banh Trang Bang, a double-layer rice paper. The process of preparing it is complex and involves, among other steps, grilling it over a peanut shell fire and finally leaving it out overnight to be wetted by the dew. It can be used as a wrap for a salt and shrimp roll. You might also want to stop in this town to try a pork noodle soup, which includes the rice paper along with herbs and is called Banh Canh Trang Bang.
On our final day in Tay Ninh town, I took a stroll down the 30th of April Boulevard to the Tay Ninh Provincial Museum. All explanations are in Vietnamese and it is not a modern museum. Nevertheless, it is interesting and offers insight into Vietnam's past at provincial level. Much of it is devoted to the grim story of the twentieth century, from party and liberation forces formation to the struggles against the French and the Americans, Tay Ninh being the end of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. The Khmer Rouge incursions into the province and massacres are also documented. There is a poignant photograph of scared, captured Khmer female fighters-no more than girls. Also interesting are artefacts from farming history and reminders of the Cambodian and Oc Eo civilisations that preceded Vietnamese settlement here. Finally, there are displays dedicated to four ethic groups that inhabit the province, namely the Khmer, Cham, Chinese Han and Ta Mun.
And so, we climbed into our car and said farewell to Tay Ninh, making a vow to return, perhaps to explore the lake area or to see the province's remote National Park. If you have a couple of days, I would urge you to see Tay Ninh as a mini-destination and not merely as a day trip. It offers a chance to escape the motorbike rush and see the real Vietnam as well as a glimpse at a home-grown religion and a romantic mountain.
By Pip de Rouvray

TRAFFIC