There are ways in which Hue is almost an antithesis of Hanoi. Hanoi is sprawling and bustling; Hue is small and tranquil. The sites of Hanoi are spread out over many miles; those in Hue are nearly all walkable from the center of the city.
Huy and I began this morning at the Imperial Citadel, a complex of gates, palaces for the emperor, palaces for the emperor’s mother, support structures, and all the other facilities needed to run a court in feudal times.
Heavily damaged by bombing during the Vietnam War, some of the structures had to be restored during the last few decades, although others remained largely intact. One of the intriguing features of the reconstruction was where the glass came from when the mosaics on the gates were restored. The green glass pieces are actually all bits of Heineken beer bottles, on some of which the opening (properly known as the bottle’s “finish”) is still plainly visible.
Our next stop was the An Hien garden house, built on the principles of Fung Shui. Huy was amused that I spent as much time examining the former owner’s library (classics of French literature, books on zen and meditation, and some of the same works on Vietnamese history that I read while preparing for this trip) as I did the rest of the grounds.
We then went to the Thien Mu pagoda, one of Hue’s oldest religious buildings. Constructed in 1601, the seven-storied tower pagoda stands on top of a hill with a fantastic view of the river beneath.
Probably the most famous monk from the Thien Mu pagoda was Thich Quang Duc. Protesting the South Vietnamese government’s oppression of Buddhists, he drove to Saigon on June 11, 1963, stopped at the Phan Dinh Phung Square-Le Van Duyet intersection, poured gasoline all over himself, and burned himself alive. Thich Quang Duc neither collapsed nor cried out in pain throughout the entire ordeal, and his heart was not consumed by the flames. The car in which he drove to Saigon is still on display at the pagoda, along with a tribute to him.
To reach our next destination, we traveled down the river by dragon boat. (For a one-minute video of that trip, see the accompanying photo album. Remember: You need to email me for access, if you want it.)
Our goal was a small workshop that makes incense sticks and cones. The aroma from the shops that produce incense in Hue is the reason why the local river became known as the Perfume River.
The incense made here is a combination of sawdust, glue, and scented oil that are kneaded into a substance with the consistency of clay. Cones are produced by molds. Sticks are rolled under a flat board. A proficient craftsman can produce an incense stick in well under a minute. When given a chance to imitate this work, I proved that I was neither an artist nor a craftsman (something that would become a theme for the rest of the day), and took woefully long to create an utterly inadequate incense stick.
Huy and I then continued then to the royal tomb of the Tu Duc, a king who had a hundred concubines but no offspring. (Mumps, it is said, had left him sterile.) He built his mausoleum while he was still alive and moved into the grounds from the citadel for the last decade of his life, indulging there in fifty-course meals of extravagant delicacies and spending time in solitude on an island across from one of his pavilions.
The day concluded in an artisan’s workshop where they are trying to recreate the lost art of Phap Lam, where enamel is baked onto copper sheets in a manner similar to cloisonné. Here is what Phap Lam looks like when a master creates the work:
And here’s what resulted when I tried it:
As I said before, today was further proof, if any was needed, that I’m neither an artist nor a craftsman.
A U.S. Marine proudly wears a small American flag in the band of his helmet as he stays alert for possible NVA or VC attacks in the city of Hue, Vietnam, on February 3, 1968.
Candles light, Pray on Như Ý river, Hue City, Vietnam: On the Nhu Y river in Hue City, Vietnam. The girls in Ao Dai dresses are releasing floating candles on the river to pray for peace and happiness. This is the spiritual culture longstanding in Vietnam
The first part of the day was devoted entirely to the Khai Nguyên Pagoda, a name I can only remember when I think of it as the “High Noon Pagoda.” In Vietnam, pagodas are always Buddhist centers of worship. Temples, on the other hand, may be devoted to any other deceased person who is deemed worthy of reverence. That makes the tradition different from Japan when temples ARE Buddhist structures, while shrines are dedicated to one or more Shinto deities.
The Khai Nguyên Pagoda is both very old and very new. Its history dares back to the Ly Dynasty in the first half of the eleventh century. But the pagoda we visited was only begun in 2015 and is still under construction. First of all, it’s massive: The image of the Buddha stands 236 feet tall (making it the largest such Buddha statue in Southeast Asia), and much of the pagoda is INSIDE the giant Buddha.
The plan is for the building to have thirteen stories eventually, of which roughly half are now complete. Each of the completed levels has an area for offerings, and hundreds of small Buddha statues set in niches all around the wall.
Altars are are found in several of the structures that surround the large Buddha, including one that has another large image of the Buddha carved, almost unbelievably, out of a single piece of jade.
On one of the levels of the pagoda, this recording of the chant “Om Mani Padme Hum” is played on constant repeat. It was both relaxing and haunting. I'll always associate it with the "soundtrack" of this trip. Here’s the link: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Preykgx6B1c
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One of the monks (who was 18 but looked no older than 12) guided Tony in how to properly conduct one of rituals for me before we adjourned to lunch. There, we joined a small number of monks and nuns in their refectory for a simple lunch of rice, cabbage, beans, and melon.
Everywhere you go within the Khai Nguyên complex leads to something amazing, from the entry gate with its enormous bell
to a large pond stocked with more koi and carp than I’d ever seen in one place.
Keep in mind that each of those koi is worth between $400 and $1,000. Yikes.
If you want to see a two-minute video of me feeding the koi (and thus causing a feeding frenzy wherever I directed the food), you’ll need to subscribe to the supplementary photo album that accompanies this blog. Email me for access if you’d like to see that album.
Regrettably, it was then time to leave Hanoi for the next city on my agenda: the far smaller town of Hue, which was the old capital of Vietnam. The flight lasted only an hour, and at the end, I met my next guide: Mr. Huy. If you think Mr. Huy of Hue is confusing, you should known that the airport here is actually called the Phu Bai International Airport. Phu Bai sounds a lot like Dubai (particularly when you’re sleepy and hearing it distorted over a tinny loudspeaker), and I had a slight moment of doubt that I’d actually boarded the correct plane.
Two U.S. Marines carry a wounded buddy as they exit a building they had cleared of NVA forces and were using for cover, during the battle of Hue on February 6, 1968.