Well, we had a wonderful time exploring Hon Tre island with the girls, the Vietnamese version of Disneyland. But if I had a hand on the weekend, there would be a little culture for the family. I can’t visit a local without visiting some historical and cultural sites. And Nha Trang had a few that were clearly on my radar. But these things must be handled diplomatically, as few share my passion for history, so I had to be delicate in my approach. Most want the new and glitzy. I like the old and fragile ones. Everyone wasn’t exactly eager to get moving. So I had to be a little slick to get precisely what I was after.
A tiny tangent
A thing that you must do when visiting a city in Vietnam is going to the local mall. I secretly love it. It conjures up images of my formative years. We were heading to Northlake, Southlake, or if we were lucky, Lenox. You would arrive with your parental units, which would shuffle off to peruse Macy’s, Belk’s, or whatever the hell it was. And we, with hopefully a few bucks in our pockets, would grab a slice of pizza, Chinese food, or maybe a burger. Whatever, mall food courts were heaven’s lobby. Everyone got exactly what they wanted. Then we would go to the arcade or music shop and listened to the music for free on one of the old listening stations that filled the music stores.
That was next to the arcade near the fringe clothing store in an era when that was everything, and it’s what we did every Saturday. Then we would return to our petite Covington, where Chinese food barely had its foot in the door. No restaurants that served alcohol existed. The Wal Mart barely sold food. Mostly just chips and junk. If you wanted a video game, or the big thing at the time, you had to drive an hour to the Toys “R” Us on the death trap of a street known as Candler Road. In the recently incorporated city of Panthersville. You go in there these days. You better be packing for Panther. That’s all I’m saying.
What?
What does any of this have to do with a post about finding some culture and history? Pay attention. I hate repeating myself. Mallrat culture is alive and well in Vietnam, and I love it. And if you’ve never seen the movie Mallrats, it’s exactly what I remember my teenage years being. So watch it sometimes. It’s a great flick. Reel it in, where were we. Oh yeah. Everyone in Vietnam loves going to the mall. They are still busy and packed like in the ’80s and ’90s. There are arcades, movie theaters, and it’s just incredible. And they are all either a Vincom Plaza or Big C mall. So anyway, even with an exhausting day at VinWonders behind us, a trip to Vincom Plaza Nha Trang got everyone up and at it.
We hopped a green taxi south across the mouth of the Cai River and jumped out at the always glamorous mall entrances. There is a large circular driveway to let you out at the door, door attendants, and an always clean glass entrance—a modern palace to commerce that can be found in every city across Vietnam. Malls in Vietnam are typically high and tight. And the Food court is always on the top floor, as many go to the mall to eat. Vietnamese malls have some pretty good restaurants. Yes, they’ll no doubt have a fast food restaurant or two. Still, they will always also have an American casual style restaurant serving up wings, pizza, quesadillas, burgers, you know—additionally, usually a sit-down Thai, hotpot, and Korean Barbecue spot as others.
Breakfast
We arrived at the mall at an odd time in between. About 10 am. The mall had just opened. Quan and I checked out some of the electric motorbikes on display. I’m interested in a new motorbike. We drive an old beat-up SYM. Of course, we got it under two pretexts, it was under 500 dollars, and we didn’t expect to be in Vietnam that long. But spending two or three dollars to fill it up every two or three days and it’s gotten us all over the city and kept us on the move. No monthly insurance or payment. It’s remarkably affordable to get around in Vietnam. A new tire, maybe $15., oil change a few bucks. If it gets too bad, you buy another one.
Anyway, we made our way to the top floor, but our choices were very limited in the pre-lunch hour. We settled on a place called Magic potato. It looked kid-friendly. Whatever the hell that means in Vietnam. The name was a bit of an inaccurate portrayal of what one might find inside. As one would think, the menu was heavy on the potato and had fried chicken, and these like potato pizza—kids, potatoes, fried chicken, pizza, what in that equation was unworkable. But unfortunately request after the request was declared 86’d, or for my non-service industry readers, out of stock.
Neither Magic Nor Potato
They had just enough chicken to feed the girls, but the rest of us settled on things that were not what I would have expected to find as an offering, but it was good nonetheless. I enjoyed a healthy pile of stir-fried seafood noodles, and I think Diem had a rice dish of some sort. The young lady who took our order was the only employee in the restaurant at the time, so it was a slow-moving brunch. The dishes came out as they were ready, and I knew she struggled to meet our table needs and prepare all of our meals.
The old restaurant mindset was churning as I found these situations frustrating. And not for myself. I understand the problem and try to encourage my fellow diners to ask for everything at once. I knew it would make both our experience and her mental health best for all parties involved. We discussed the day’s primarily open plans. At least that’s what everyone thought. Then, of course, we would have to find an excellent coffee house after brunch to enjoy some coffee. Planning my cultural outings and knowing how the day would need to play out, I had already researched a beautiful coffee shop that happened to be very close to a famous regional Buddhist temple and Monastery.
Miss Bamboo
We grabbed a cab out front and headed to the southern edge of downtown Nha Trang. A beautiful little tiki bar-style coffee hut known as Miss bamboo. Just across the boulevard from a restaurant called Crazy Fish, which sits right on the beach. Miss Bamboos had an insanely carved wooden dragon out front that utilized the natural aspects of the tree. It even had more trees growing down its back. Additionally, the coffee house had an attractive wooden archway entrance with stepping tiles crossing a fish pond. It was a great place to grab some post-brunch coffee and drinks. Of course, when at the mall, we had to stop and look at a few items for the girls, and they played with their newly acquired toys as we ordered our drinks.
Beautiful bamboo wicker furniture with comfy cushions and solid wood tables from cross-sections of what I would guess to be teak. There are several sections to the coffee house, and we found a spot under a very architecturally interesting Polynesian style structure. I always enjoy people watching, and we sat in general conversation as we watched the busy street aflutter with activity. Diem knew I had plans and was just waiting for the details. We were strategically located to catch two cultural sites I wanted to see. But it had to be balanced with the promise the girls would get at least a couple of hours on the rooftop Infinity pool at our condo. So there was no time to waste.
Some Pictures of Miss Bamboo’s
Moments that..
I had perched us at a great spot—the corner of Tran Phu and Le Thanh Ton. We could head northwest on Le Thanh Ton and take a slightly averted route from the coffee hut to the hotel. And thereby driving by two places, I just happened to want to experience. It’s become a family understanding. A little fun, a little culture. It works from the smallest temple shrine on a remote island to the massive complexes of the major cities. Diem always lets me explore my mind in the realm of everything around us, enables it, encourages it. So I sat at the moment as the Girls played, and we enjoyed our beverages.
I am learning that one must be patient in the morning showers that keep the early daylight hours damp and sticky. While staring at the table, I began to think about the profoundness of the moment. I get in these strange places at times, contemplating the world around me. So often find me in what many may view as a very negative or isolating reality, absent from communication through language in the world around me. I have discovered this to be an incredible advantage, particularly in my long and complicated spiritual journey throughout my life.
Connectedness
I see the toys the girls play with, the mango shake I’m enjoying, the beautifully carved table they sit upon. If you look close enough, you can almost see the fingerprints of humanity on everything. The lack of relationship through conversation opens a world of understanding in the connectedness of us all. People you may never meet may never know even lived or died, impacted your life in some way that connects us all in a very intimate way. The person who grew the mangoes in my drink, the person who packed the mango, the person who made the box that it was loaded into, the person who printed that box, the person that drove the truck that delivered that mango, or the dock workers if it was shipped, the glassmaker, down to the lady who handed it to me.
The complicated connectedness of all of us in every way makes us all intimately connected. So just realize that your entire life is dependent on others in every aspect. It creates a deep appreciation for people. To love one another is a common thread found in many modern-day religions. This is not an accidental coincidence. Everyone you ever meet you is already intimately linked to before you even say hello. So all I can tell you is always say hello. So now, in a very reflective frame of mind, it was time to do some meditation and pray at a local holy site.
Long Sơn Pagoda
Long Son Pagoda was initially built in 1889 on a nearby hill. It was destroyed by a cyclone in 1900 and moved to the base of the current elevation. 1900 was a ruthless year for Buddhist sites. We visited a Pagoda north of Da Nang that, though not destroyed, had been remodeled after heavy damage from a cyclone the same year. I couldn’t help but research Pacific Cyclones in 1900, French Indochina at the time, and the importance of French Naval power around the world. I was shocked at the rather extensive information on the topic.
The Main Gate
The entrance to the Pagoda was, as in most important Buddhist sites, beautiful and grand. The standard three entrance gate. It is a lasting architectural time of the feudal kings and emperors. Only kings and Emperors could enter the main gates, while mandarins, officials, and peasants used the two side entrances. It is believed to bring good luck to enter the left and depart the right. In most modern temple sights, you may or may not find the central gate open. But if it is a gate into a former King or Emperor’s Burial sight, which always act as temples, the center gate is permanently closed. The gate represents the boundary between the secular world and the realm of the Buddha.
The Main Yard
As in most temple sites in Vietnam, you come to the main yard through the gate. The yard will contain a symmetrical layout of statues, beautiful plants, and Vietnamese-style bonsai. We walked the yard taking in the beauty of the scenery. You can always expect that the temples will usually have a beautifully landscaped yard no matter how far out or how less affluent the region may be in Vietnam. I say this as even a temple in An Lao that supports predominantly agrarian rural villages still was a lovely place to worship.
The Pagoda
As we continued towards the Pagoda, Diem found a shaded area for her and Xu to rest. I began to rise a few steps to the base of the Pagoda and took a pause at the beautifully carved step rails one often sees in such places. Depending on the region, local customs, and many factors, it will often determine the form used. Typically in Vietnam, it is almost exclusively the dragon. But even the dragons can change from region to region. The central areas in Vietnam tend to be bearded and have large rounded noises. My favorite, though, maybe the beautiful Naga rails in the Buddhist temples of northern Thailand.
The Naga and Dragon
I’ve become very interested. I guess you would say, in the tradition and mystique of these mythical beasts. The Naga may sometimes be portrayed as multi-headed or hooded like a cobra. I find a striking difference between the western idea of the dragon or Naga-like figure and the eastern. My western upbringing and European culture saw the dragon as a winged, territorial, fire-breathing bringer of death. Whereas here in Vietnam, the dragon is a benevolent creature. Shy, and often living in the depths of lakes and seas. Wingless but possessing the magical ability to fly among the clouds, the dragon protects and brings good luck.
This protective nature is why these formidable and scary beasts often line the stairways into temples and holy sites—believed to protect the temples and consume the evil spirits that often cling to us. And though evil spirits and demons are what I’ve learned to be brought on by our negative impulses in life. Frustration, anger, resentment, all of these negative feelings harbor and nurture these demons within us. So I always feel a sense of release when entering holy sites, which is why I visit them often. I am a devoted Christian but understand a profound spirituality in all religious and sacred sites. I feel the same overwhelming presence in a Cathedral, Temple, or Mosque. God does not differentiate between holiness. That’s what humans do.
Some old images
The Buddha
Of course, every Pagoda has a Buddha in some form to pray before. He was protected in standard tradition at his flank by Tứ Thiên Vương, the four heavenly kings. He who hears everything, he who causes growth, he who upholds the realm, and he who sees everything. This particular Buddhist image is of the Shakyamuni style. Thin, robed and sitting in the lotus pose gilded in gold. I waited for the worshippers to finish praying, placed a few dollars into the donation box, and said a prayer. Yes, I always pray at such sites and sometimes fall prone. But, as I have said before, God is present, always.
Continuing on
After a prayer, I admired the artful woodwork that housed the Buddha before preparing for what Diem did not want to do, and I don’t blame her. Nevertheless, it was a decent pilgrimage to the top of the hill to the sight of the seated Buddha that sits on a lotus flower and looks down on the city. There were 152 stone steps to the statue site above. It wasn’t the most steps I’ve climbed to visit a holy sight, and I’ve found it’s usually worth it. I believe my record is just over 450 obsidian-like, hand-carved, and at times almost vertical climb to visit a holy sight and take what may very well be the most excellent selfie, and picture in terms of profoundness, I will ever take.
One hundred fifty-two relatively standard steps seemed a small price to pay for what might be a moment of greatness. A young student joined us and showed us the way. Her services were free, and she only offered to sell a stack of postcards of Da Nang for her services. She spoke excellent English and began to show us the way. The steps were very manageable and also offered a few other sites on the way up. This made the rise less noticeable. Finally, we reached the first turn in the staircase, and a beautiful representation of the reclining Buddha came into view.
The Reclining Buddha
The reclining Buddha is a representation of what is often referred to as his last illness. Always on his right side and head in gentle incline. It is believed he had already reached Nirvana in life but is preparing for Parinirvana. In some Buddhist teachings, when one achieves true Nirvana in life, then they are freed of the shackles of reincarnation, karma, and the five conditions of being. You become one with the cosmos. It is believed to be good luck to rub the Buddha’s elbow and your crown three times. I did so, admired the beautifully carved monument, and continued.
The Seated Buddha
We continued up the stairs to a bell tower just below the statue. A well-crafted cast bronze bell housed in a beautifully constructed pagoda-style pavilion. The heat and humidity were natural, and I had brought a bottle of water with me. By the time the Buddha came into view, my water was depleted. Though I felt a surge of energy as I made my way up the final steps. The statue of Buddha here was cast in 1964, at a time of great turmoil across the land. The statue was installed the following year on the hilltop and insight of the original Pagoda.
It instantly became the symbol of the city. It can be seen for miles away from every significant roadway into the city. And inversely, from the statue mount, you can see most corners of the city. It was a beautiful view and an interesting site. We viewed the city, and I said a little prayer for each of the abbots of the Pagoda. It had been incredibly lasting stewardship. The current Abbott arrived in 1964, Thích Từ Mãn. It was an incredible view and a remarkable moment in space-time.
As I looked out, I absorbed the truth of the infinitesimal reality of the moment in the history of everything. I noticed my breath, heard the birds chirping, felt the breeze against my face. I listened to the cosmos. I stood and stared into the very eye of God. He compassionately peered back. Acknowledged my search. Understood my soul. It understood my very essence. The being whispered to me in a voice of ultimate empathy, and he said to me, “Dennis, it’s hot, and your wife is waiting. The path down is a far easier road. It’s time to go”.
Ancient Ruins
I found Diem and Xu still under the shade. Quan informed her we were coming, so a car was on the way. So we loaded in the wonderfully cool taxi and headed to a place I had waited to visit. And I was excited in a way that manifested elements of childhood Christmas’ and new toys. I knew I would find some incredible, awe-inspiring, childlike wonderment in what I was hoping to see.
Po Nagar is a major coastal city and ruins of an old civilization I’ve written much about. The Cham. The greatest unknown superpower of the region for a thousand years. I’ll spare you redundancy and leave links to other articles of the Cham. But know that they touched and controlled a sea trading route between China and the Persian Gulf for a thousand years. Central and Southern Vietnam is filled with their ancient sites. And I was on my way to one of the most well preserved in the region.
Po Nagar
Before you even arrive at the riverside hill temple. Its presence is instant and powerful. The structures are believed to have been built in 781. An ancient stone stele announces the date of the founding of the city. The number is deduced from a lot of scholarly work. It’s not as if they used the Julian calendar. The sight is old. In a part of the world, they were built by a group of people who controlled vast trade routes and commerce ignored in western education. They dabbled with the Romans, traded with the Khans, and outlasted four Chinese dynastic rules. But their lot in history is only that they preceded European control of the region.
We were dropped off at the front gate and needed to purchase tickets. It was a historical sight of a forgotten empire. It had to be maintained, after all. The temple site sat on three levels of a mountain known as Cù Lao. The first significant structure is the ruins of an ancient pavilion or market known in ancient Hindi as a Mandapa. Often associated with social activities, I started my exploration there. To be about 1,500 years old, I could see the engineering of the ancient pavilion in my mind’s eye.
The Mandapa
Mandapa can be either an open or closed pavilion. This site is an incredibly preserved foundation of an ancient Hindi Mandapa. One can see the remnants of a wood-framed roof supported by the massive brick columns—two central rows of high columns, with an outer row of shorter columns on each side. I could see the signs of fire and destruction as I closely examined the structure. The notches in the stone columns that held the wooden beams—additionally confirmed by the soot that had formed around the slots that carried the wooden beams. I could imagine this sizeable open pavilion—possibly a thatched roof on hardwood rafting. Or a roofing material of which we know nothing.
I again get lost in these times. Most people see history as their worst subject, a thing that only matters because you are told it does. But people throughout history breathed as you breathe, sweat as you sweat, bled as you bleed. They saw the world in a view the same as you. An opinion on their lot, complaints about their superior, or admiration for another human. The things that you feel and experience are no different than anything anyone has ever felt. The only difference is the scenery.
Another climb to the top.
I made my way through the Mandapa and the winding path to the top. The grounds were filled with beautiful plants and gardens. Through slow walking meditation, I eventually reached the top. I found a beautiful but not unique scene. The towers were there, yes. But the ground had been replaced with a standard Vietnamese sidewalk tile, and of course, there were tourists every. I took no valuable concern in this. The Champa and their remnants were disappearing as fast as iPhones were appearing. To see tourists, mainly locals in a time of closed borders, was a sign of preservation. No matter how capitalistic its nature may be.
The temple mount
It was one of the most well-preserved Cham sites I’ve visited. But it is also the only one I’ve ever seen in the heart of a modern city. Most require travel, tour groups, or are long gone by the consumption of modernity, in its often slightly noticeable gentrification across the ages. Today the site acts as a modern Buddhist shrine but was built in praise of Hinduism. Converted to Islam in the 15th century through trade with the middle east. The Cham introduced Islam into the West Pacific and why Islam is the majority religion in Indonesia, Brunei, and Malaysia.
The architecture itself speaks to the changes across time. Images carved and re-carved. But if you look close enough, you can see diversity in its history. I walked the towers and looked closely at the crevices and carvings, re-carvings, and depictions. It’s an incredible cross-section of civilization across time. It’s a moving realization. From the first day to the last, we all see, hear, feel, belief, and disbelieve. How many eyes have peered as I peer now? I think the central theme of this post is the interconnectedness of us all.
A Deeper Look
To fully enter and explore the temple sight, I had to dress appropriately. This was beyond the active Monastery we visited early in the day. This holy sight spanned a distance and importance beyond me, or anyone, almost beyond time. No visible tattoos, nothing above mid-shin, beyond mid-forearm. It was important. And I was more than happy to oblige. It’s not the first place I’ve had to cover up to enter. As I headed towards the temple in my newly fitted attire, I pulled out my camera and was asked to put it away. Photos were not allowed inside the temples.
I believe it was a combination of respect, the darkness, and the flash needed for a photo. The building-style inner ceilings flow high in the manner of the outer structure. Thus, creating both a haven for bats in its tall recesses, as well as a pitch blackness. Once inside the shrine, the only light allowed was cast from the entranceway at your back. As I stepped into the farthest recesses of the temple, I received both a profound feeling of the ages, chirping of bats high above and the importance of the shrine that offered pilgrimage and service to countless souls both now and through the expanse of history. I stared briefly into the heights of the chamber. It was as if I was staring into the vastness of eternity.
A peek inside
An Architectural Investigation
I have an affinity for ancient architecture, to the point where, especially in this part of the world, I’ve begun to recognize specific images. Even in the wear of time and weather, I could remember long-forgotten images in carved brick and stone. I was quite surprised at the well-preserved nature of the site. It survived multiple empires, religious transitions, and vicious wars. I took most interest in recesses on the outside walls of the central tower. I feel that I’ve become an amateur expert on the Cham and their art and architectural style in some way. I’ve explored a number of their ancient city sites and museums. And though I know this does not make an expert, I have developed a deep appreciation for their art and style.
A living museum of sorts
I eventually came to the backside of the temple site and discovered a most exciting area. A handful of Cham, still a recognized ethnic minority in Vietnam, exhibited their regional and historical skills. Textiles were one of the region’s first plentiful exported commodities. Through centuries of Chinese occupation dating back thousands of years, Vietnam is one of the first to acquire its skill outside China. The Cham heavily exploited this, who used both textile manufacturing and silk production from their Dai Viet northern neighbors. It caused the rise of Hoi An in the North, the world’s trading port city.
The humble silkworm
I’ve learned a great deal about the silkworm in my days here as well. They are not only a delicacy in Vietnam but supporting a booming silk trade. Silkworms must be killed to harvest their silk. They wrap themselves in a tightly knit and valuable web of silk as they form their silk cocoon. Shortly after the cocoon is created, the pupae are removed and the silk processed. Then, in a very waste nothing Vietnamese style, the pupae are sauteed with onions and chili for a richly nutritious dish. One of my wife’s favorites and something I’ve come to appreciate. And simply for the shock value, but for the spirit of the exchange. A species is protected, nurtured, fed all the mulberry leaves it can acquire, and its existence is in stewardship to humanity to preserve its future.
Hunger and the wind
In exchange, it only must offer as many of its children as are required not to cause the cessation of its species. And so the silkworm’s life goes on. But I appreciate the Vietnamese palate of enjoying it as nourishment. It sustains the world while sustaining itself. There is a saying I’ve heard before around here, but I can’t directly quote it. So these are my words, but the message is the same. And mind you, silkworms grow on the Mulberry tree. “He who holds stewardship over a mulberry tree nurtures it, aids it, and cultivates all of the bounties it has to offer, this man and his house will neither experience hunger nor the cold chill of the wind.”
Ancient skills at work
I made my way towards the stalls to get a closer look at the work being done. They were selling everything from backpacks to fabric key chains and knick-knacks. But the most interesting aspect was that they were manufacturing the fabric themselves. I should dive deeper into these moments as they arise. But I knew Diem was waiting. So I didn’t engage the proprietors as I should have. That’s a moment I did not take full advantage of.
I observed them do between selling and maybe having lunch or many things as Quan and I inspected the merchandise. Quan was no doubt buying something, and I wanted to also. But I rarely carry money or anything for that matter. I don’t drive, so I need no license. ID is not required on the streets as it is in many parts of the world. Diem usually pays for everything and negotiates. And that isn’t to say she’s forced in any way. She prefers it that way. It’s a cultural thing. A Vietnamese saying says if the man says he wants something, if the woman pays, she already has it.
A closer look
As Quan negotiated, I, penniless, was free of expectation. I was able to explore the intricate and beautiful handlooms the women were using to compose their fabric. I just got lost in the understanding of its weighted bags pulling thread and yarn in perfect tension. How the action of the shuttle adds the string, and the reed tightens fabric. How it all comes together in a complex yet simple event. I stared and imagined the complexity and lasting history of this simple yet immensely profound piece of humanity. I guess myself, armed with only my intellect, figuring this process out thousands of years ago.
Just like we have walked the moon or flown helicopters on Mars, It’s that same genuinely unique aspect of being human that all of this was ever possible. At one time, solving the significant problem of creating better clothing, something other than roughly stitched animal hide, was as monumental, impossible, and species changing as, say, preparing to send humans to Mars. I lost myself somehow in looms and rocket ships as I looked deeply into the intricate, yet a simply human, machine that clothed humanity thousands of years ago.
To keep a commitment
I had been given ample time to explore things that were important to me. And I promised an afternoon swim on a rooftop oasis. I made my way to Diem, gathered the girls, and Quan, and we called our car. We made our way across Nha Trang. We crossed the river, hugging both it initially and then the ocean as we made our way to our condo palace. It is a more visually beautiful beach and boardwalk than Da Nang. But here, it doesn’t extend beyond the reaches of the tourist trade.
The water culture continued
I wrote a post that seems like a lifetime ago now. It was filled with ignorance. And I mean that in the most affectionate of ways. I knew nothing of the culture at the time. Nothing that wasn’t told to me by Rambo or Colonel James Braddock. I discussed an aspect of Vietnamese culture that caught me by suspected surprise. Cleanliness. No shoes indoors were the extent of my knowledge of Asian culture firsthand. It was an awful article, and I am ashamed in some ways of the ignorance of its subject matter. We had tried the pool our first night but discovered that it had specific hours that we missed, which were not posted on the website.
One of your first customers was an American. That policy may have been corrected quickly. Much of the building wasn’t opened yet. A casualty of construction was nearing completion as the pandemic struck. We procured a massive balcony. I’d call it a Veranda, three bedrooms, two baths, pool access (during pool hours), full kitchen, living room, it was an impressive spot. The brand new building, probably some of the first tenants. First-class building. All of that for four days was $200. Five plane tickets, I think we busted out $250. $450 for five-star accommodations and plane tickets for five people. Tell me where else?
The sky high seahorse
I will never forget the look on the girls’ faces. When, after the knowledge of, but the inability to reach it, the elevator door opened, and the celestial gate to the water realm in the heaven’s doors were splayed open. I was taken back by the incredible beauty of the sight, moment, and joy that radiated through everything and everyone. It was one of those moments when you find awe and inspiration in the greatness of the earth.
Then you hear, dad. You join in the fun, and the time, experience, and moment are something full of deep emotion. Sadness for those I can not be with, and immense happiness that I bring joy to those I can be with. The infinity pool had a white mosaic seahorse amidst the sea blue tiles. I’ve seen and experienced some unforgettable moments in my life, intimate moments. This one left an incredible impression on my memory.
Dinner
Eventually, everyone was hungry—a snack here, a banh mi there. I was determined to go out with a culinary bang. The best seafood restaurant in one of the most beautiful bays in the world seemed the only honest answer. But I left it to the professionals. I gave Diem the parameters. She knew I wanted some incredible seafood, she wanted a place to be seen. I knew she’d come up with the perfect solution.
The night was falling as we were all getting cleaned up from the refreshing dip on the rooftop. We hailed a cab and headed south to the mouth of the Cai River. The cab came to a stop in front of a rather sizeable multi-floored restaurant. The hostess went to the curb and ordered a young gentleman to open our doors. I viewed the evenings offering’s as they swam around taunting me in a come hither and eat my kind of manner. As I looked, Diem spoke with the lady of the house, and in short order, we were hurried into an elevator and taken to the top floor.
Hang 66
Hang 66 is, and its neighbors are considered some of the best places to get a great seafood dinner in the city. A series of three or four similarly named restaurants, Hang 3, Huan Xuan, and so on. We were sitting at the mouth of the river Cai overlooking the Tran Phu bridge. Night had not entirely fallen, though; Twilight was upon us. We took the best table on the roof, as it was still relatively early for there yet to be a packed house. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful view. In the distance, you could see the lit Eiffel-style towers that carry the cable cars to Hon Tre Island. The mouth of the river, the expansive Bay of Nha Trang, really was one of the best spots in the city.
I did as usual and told Diem what I saw that looked good, and she discussed our order with the servers that had gathered around. I took in the view and the moment. There was another parallel bridge about a quarter of a mile upriver. The space between them created a small harbor. A few rocky outcrops sat in the sanctuary along with fishing, boats, and canoes anchored in the calm waters. The sun was setting quickly as I watched the boats gently rock in the failing light. Little by little, the city’s rays began to burn in the coming night, and our food began to arrive.
A seafood feast
Diem knows me very well. The first plate to land in front of me were five freshly shucked oysters. They sat over ice and were garnished simply with slices of Thai chili, cilantro, lemongrass, and slices of lime. I need next to nothing to eat an oyster. A shucking knife and maybe a beer is about as good as it gets. Unfortunately, they hadn’t dislodged the adductor muscles, so it required a mild amount of work with a pair of chopsticks to loosen the oyster from its shell and down the hatch, as they say.
Another oyster plate arrived with grilled oysters with roasted peanuts, chili, and wilted greens. I consumed the raw ones almost exclusively. I managed to get Quan to try one, but everyone grabbed at the grilled plate. It was something that I chuckled at a little inside. I’ve enjoyed the wild variety and often strange items among people who saw it as either a treat or typical everyday food. Raw blood puddings, steamed duck fetuses, shark liver, squirming grubs wriggling in soy sauce, chili, and cilantro. But put a raw oyster on the table, and somehow a line is crossed.
The feast goes on into the night
I’m always surprised at the amount of food that always finds its way to a table when a Vietnamese family goes out to eat. The Vietnamese style of dinner is usually a family format. Food is shared. No one orders what would be considered “their plate.” Unless, of course, you’re at a street stall containing a bowl of noodles or banh mi. At dinner, it’s a family event. Every dinner is a feast. And the food is generally served as it’s ready. So things kind of come and go as plates are emptied, and more dishes arrive.
An egg drop like soup, sweet (not spicy) chili crab for the girls, spicy salted chili crab, grilled shrimp, French fries, roasted peanuts for snacking, fresh vegetables, greens, herbs, rice paper, a blistering array of dips, chilies, seasoned salts, and sauces. Eventually, the plates had to be stacked to fit. It was wonderful. The night was incredible, the view was perfect, I was with people that I loved greatly, and the food was delicious. It was one of those moments that one must be present in. Slow down the mind, not think of the next thing or the last. Be present in a moment.
Not done just yet
I couldn’t imagine much more could fit, and I contemplated this thought as I surveyed the carnage that was once a table full of food. At that moment, in what can be described as a moment of surprise, a whole herb-crusted grilled pompano was set in front of me. Again, I couldn’t imagine that this would be eaten, and yet we did. We began making spring rolls with the delicious flaky white meat, unripe mango, herbs, and greens that accompanied the fish. I don’t know if I’ve expressed this, but I love the Vietnamese cuisine aspect of using unripe fruit as vegetables.
We wrapped up dinner and discussed what our last night in Nha Trang would look like. Diem wanted to visit the main square and the night market, which was perfect, as I wanted the same things. One can’t go to a big city in Vietnam and not visit its night market. Typically like mini carnivals that can have everything from activities for the kids to local food and vendors selling the region’s specialties.
Night Markets
In Da Nang, a coastal city and ancient port area, the night market is filled with seafood, leather goods, cheap Da Nang souvenirs, and toys. Hoi An’s night market has barbecue carts selling grilled frogs, octopus, and local noodle dishes, as well as fabric goods and handcrafted woodwork. In Da Lat, the cool mountain retreat is the valley of eternal spring, cool-weather clothing, strawberries, flowers, and wine products. There was no way we were leaving Nha Trang without experiencing its night market.
Chợ Đêm Nha Trang
Chợ Đêm, the night market, wasn’t far from the restaurant. It was in an exciting location and gave the area a relaxed vibe. The entrance to the market sits right across the street from a large plaza that butts up to the sea and beach. We started by heading into the market. The girls knew they would talk themselves into some sort of trinket or small toy and were eager to see what the market had to offer. A classic market, only this one didn’t have many food offerings. We walked the street’s length, passing by each shop as the girls examined the displays—everything from cosmetic jewelry to the next best herbal remedy.
An interesting culture
An unusual fact about Nha Trang is its culture. Russia heavily influences it. It’s a strange sight sometimes. You hear Russian spoken everywhere. Many Vietnamese in Nha Trang speak Russian over English. It’s often the first language found in menus or on signage. For those who don’t remember the Soviet Union, the USSR established an embassy in what was then known as North Vietnam in 1950. One of the first countries in the world to recognize and formally establish relations with what would eventually become modern-day Vietnam.
This early relationship became a lasting one, and Russia is one of the only countries to maintain a consistent ally relationship with Vietnam. Even though Russia’s turbulent transitional years. During the ’80s, the Soviet Union held a naval base in Cam Ranh just south of Nha Trang. The city we flew into, and only airport that feeds Nha Trang. The US originally built the naval base during the Vietnam conflict. After reunification, the Soviet Union, the then benefactor of the fledgling communist nation, was allowed to take over the base as a strategic port for Russia’s Pacific fleet. It is still used today by Russia, but only as a supply depot.
Deeply connected
This lasting relationship has caused intense relations between the two nations. Not only on a diplomatic level but a social level. A recent poll in Vietnam showed that 93 percent of Vietnamese see Russia favorably in world affairs. Making Russia one of the most positively viewed countries by Vietnam. But don’t take that to mean they are not friendly towards the US. Everyone strives to be the US. Wealthy, powerful, meaningful. Celebrity culture is something highly prized in Vietnamese society, especially in the younger generations. I think I wrote an article about that very thing the first time I went to Tet in An Lao with Diem. I’ll leave a link at the end.
It was in many ways comical walking down the market street. The Vietnamese have a very almost hidden and unacknowledged sense of humor. They will claim to not notice it or act utterly oblivious to it. Like that the most popular coffee brand is Phuc Long, and that they have a variety of coffee known as Phuc Long King. Or the hotel and spa parlor in Da Nang with the giant lit sign 20 stories up that says Phuc My An Hotel and Spa. My in Vietnamese is pronounced me. Or the well-crafted Bart Simpson sign, with his butt hanging out and the word toilet under it.
A little souvenir shopping
We continued through the market,, checking out the variety of stalls: their two-for-one shirt deals and attempts at offering some sort of deal to entice a potential sale. We stopped in front of a small booth that had tucked behind a small shop with printing and carving tools. You could get everything from custom printed shirts to engraved bracelets. It was the stall where everyone seemed to be able to find what they wanted. Diem and I purchased bracelets with each other’s names on them, a key chain with our picture from yesterday, and the girls had fun sifting through the countless little options to build charm bracelets.
I get this way sometimes
A operated the stallA young man and woman operated the stall. I do not know if they were siblings or partners. It was most likely a family business, and they very well have been siblings. I often wonder about these things. Imagine the life of those I come into contact with throughout my days. The story behind the taxi driver that just dropped us off, the woman that served our dinner, the man and woman are helping us make our purchases now. The contemplation of lives, to imagine them as people living life much as I am. In many ways, this makes them me, and I become them.
Thích Nhất Hạnh and the true nature of compassion
Thích Nhất Hạnh is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk who has spent much of the last 50 years in exile. He now lives at a Monastery known as Plum village in Southwest France. Thich co-founded the Monastery in 1982, and it currently has the distinction of being the most significant Buddhist Monastery in both Europe and the Americas. He was allowed to return to Vietnam for a brief visit in 2007. But his activism against the war and criticism of both the North and South found him with few political friends at the time.
In a public letter, he was nominated by Martin Luther King Jr. for the Nobel Peace prize in 1967. A prize King was honored with three years earlier. The open letter was quite controversial and harply violated Nobel traditions and protocol. It was a time of great turmoil around the world. The social fabric of American society was at a momentous moment domestically. The war in Vietnam was becoming increasingly unpopular, the world was on the edge of falling into further Chaos as global powers began to take sides and the cold war reached its apex. The Nobel Peace Prize was not awarded in 1967.
An excerpt from Doctor Martin Luther King Jr’s letter to the Prize committee.
“I do not personally know of anyone more worthy of [this prize] than this gentle monk from Vietnam. His ideas for peace, if applied, would build a monument to ecumenism, to world brotherhood, to humanity”
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Find the full letter here.
The girl and the pirate
Thích Nhất Hạnh recalls a time when he was in exile in France during the time of the great Vietnamese exodus after the fall of Saigon in 1975. One month alone, as many as 54,000 refugees arrived in Hong Kong. The UN convened a special conference and said, “a grave crisis exists in Southeast Asia for thousands of refugees.” It is believed that 200,000 to as many as 400,000 died at sea. He speaks of the terrible news.. They waited for information of the many that were fleeing. Instead, they faced storms, fuel, food, and water shortages, overcrowding, and pirates operating off the coast of Thailand.
He speaks of a particularly tragic bit of news. Pirates had raided a boat, taken any valuables they could find, and raped an eleven-year-old girl. Her father tried to stop them and was thrown overboard. As she was released, in her anguish, she too jumped into the sea. They both perished. He talks about how he couldn’t sleep due to overwhelming sadness, compassion, and helplessness. He goes on to explain his meditation on how to understand the situation more deeply.
The meditation of Thích Nhất Hạnh
“I visualized myself as a little boy born into a poor family in Thailand. My father an illiterate fisherman. From one generation to the next my ancestors had lived in poverty. Without education, without help. I too grew up without an education, and perhaps with violence. Then one day someone asks me to go out to sea and make a fortune as a pirate and I foolishly agree.
Desperate to finally break out of this terrible cycle of poverty. And then, under pressure from my fellow pirates and with no coastal patrol to stop me, I force myself on a beautiful young girl. My whole life I have never been taught how to love or understand. I never received an education. Nobody ever showed me a future. If you had been there on the boat with a gun, you could have shot me, you could have killed me. But you wouldn’t have been able to help me.
An excerpt from “The Art of Living” by Thích Nhất Hạnh
Meditating that night in Paris I saw that hundreds of babies continue to be born under similar circumstances. And they will grow up to be pirates, unless I do something now to help them. I saw all of this, and my anger disappeared. My heart was full of the energy of compassion and forgiveness. I could embrace not only the 11-year-old girl in my arms, but also the pirate. I could see myself in them. This is the fruit of the contemplation on emptiness, on inter being. I could see that suffering is not only individual, it is also collective. Suffering can be transmitted to us by our ancestors, or it can be there in the society around us. As my blame and hatred dissipated, I became determined to live my life in such a way that I could help not only the victims, but also the perpetrators.”
Rings and Che
We finished our purchases, and I snapped out of my momentary meditation. We continued through the market, passed the plastic US class rings, always a strange sight, and found a sweet shop at the end serving Chè. A delicious, vastly diverse dessert that often seems odd to outsiders. It is varied by region and even just across the cuisine. So even in one city, you will rarely find two identical Che shops. Che is typically anything from cubed agar jellies, chunks of fruit with lychee nectar and chunks of ice, to sweetened mung beans with coconut cream and shaved ice.
This particular shop, like most, displayed their ingredients. The liquid was a sweet cane syrup with fresh yogurt and shaved ice. The offerings included a mashed variety of purple yam, chunked strawberries in syrup, cubes of jellied grass, and a wild variety of sweetened beans and seeds. We ordered lotus seeds, and she stacked our glasses with the seeds, a ladle of sweet syrup, fresh yogurt, and crushed ice. We sat at a table in front of the stall and enjoyed our sweet delicious, and refreshingly cool dessert in the warm night air.
The Central Square
We made our way quickly back through the market to the central square of the city. It’s an exciting square and something that is not uncommon in Vietnam. The main square in Qui Nhon is on the sea, there is a large square on the ocean in Da Nang, but it is not the city’s main central square. As we left the market and began to cross the street to the main square, its expanse and beauty came into view. It is flanked to the North by the architecturally interesting Agarwood tower. In the shape of a sandalwood flower, its orangish-pink color is an interesting sight in the square.
To the west, and next to the market entrance, sits a beautiful French colonial theater. A theater that today offers shows in the traditional Vietnamese water puppet art form. As we made our way into the square, I realized why there were so few food stalls in the market. They were all in the central square. So we strolled to the center of the square to take a look around. THe beauty of the buildings, the waves crashing on the eastern edge, the families running, and playing. It was a beautiful scene.
Some snacks
We strolled the square and came to an old lady selling these little plastic cups of sweet treats. She was just a lovely old lady trying to make a dollar, so I purchased a cup for a few cents. They were tapioca balls, rolled in fresh coconut, and tossed in what I only can best describe as a graham crust for a cheesecake without the butter, still in its dry form. They were pretty tasty, and I enjoyed them as I slowly walked around the plaza and took in the experience of a Sunday night in Nha Trang. The plaza was filled with food carts, clandestine grills selling roasted snacks, children learning to ride their bicycles or roller skates, teenagers practicing their skateboarding tricks. It was a moment that brought a deep connection to the moment.
Peering into humanity
I am often humbled in such moments. I am just walking around a plaza around 8 p.m. in a city I have never visited before. Yet I feel deeply connected to it, what it is, what is going on around me. The laughter of children, the countless conversations are swirling through the air, the waves crashing on the shore just behind me, the flag is waving in the ocean breeze, the cup of sweets in my hand. No matter where I find myself, no matter how different it may seem whether culturally, or architecturally. I always look at what there is that is familiar.
We are all in this world different, but we are also the same. This gives me a foundation of oneness with the world around me. It strips away any fear or trepidation. Only then can I embrace the differences as an opportunity to learn. We walked around the plaza and took in the view for some time. But eventually, we had to go. We had a flight home in the morning, and the girls were getting exhausted. We scooped them up as they were ready to fall. They slept shortly into the taxi ride. It had been an exciting and exhausting few days. But now it was time to return home.
Below you will find a series of articles that relate to much of this subject matter.
Below, you will find an article exploring the National Cham Sculpture Museum and Da Nang Museum.
For a random assortment of articles, click here.
