It is a beautiful day for our excursion to My Son today. We have our breakfast at the restaurant near our room which serves continental as well as Asian (the Red Bean restaurant only serves Asian) – and what a spread they have. You name it, everything from traditional eggs to sushi. There is enough here to feed you for the entire day, if not week! We pick and choose our way through fortifying proteins, enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning pool (by mid-afternoon, once the Chinese appear, that peace and quiet is all but a memory). While we aren’t on an “organized” tour as we were in India, we are still looked after. As we are sitting at breakfast, one of the front desk managers comes over to ask us how we are, how our sleep was and if we are ready for our My Son tour today, which leaves at 8:30. They know everything! It is like they have a tracker attached to us so they can find us any time of day or night. (I actually think they got the time wrong on the tour and came to find us, thinking we would miss it, because it was originally scheduled for 8:00 but the desk manager changed it to 8:30 yesterday when we were reviewing our itinerary!)
Anyway, we finished our breakfast and headed down to the lobby to meet our guide Hung (whose name means hero), who was already there and waiting, re-enforcing the fact that we think they messed up on the timing. After the pleasantries and another quick itinerary overview, we are handed snack packs (they think of everything) and off we go with our driver, Yung (whose name means courage – which is apt if you are driving on these roads!), expertly navigating the hour or so drive to My Son. Along the way Hung gives us history lessons and talks about a million different things I’ll never remember. He is so personable and intelligent, and so happy to talk about Vietnam and its history, that it makes for a very pleasant trip. Along the way, we also pass a monstrous “parade” of concrete trucks – seriously, maybe 100 or more trucks of all shapes and sizes, all owned by the Le Van Sa company, which Hung tells us is a huge local company here. He says they are going to a carnival (I think, sometimes I do have a little bit of trouble understanding him), and that today is a good day to work. So maybe it is a festival, celebrating something in the New Year. Whatever, it is crazy the number of trucks that keep coming toward us, heading in the direction of Hoi An. Think it was probably a really good day to be out of the town with all that heavy equipment rumbling through.
On to the history: My Son, which means beautiful (My) mountain (Son), is a Champa (or Chiem Than in Vietnamese) holy site with Hindu temples and royal burial grounds constructed beginning in the 4th century and used until the 14th century. It is considered one of the most important Hindu temple complexes and one of the longest inhabited in the SE Asia region. Sadly, the temples are mostly in ruins now, with the passing of time, and of course the American bombing during the war (this particular area was destroyed by carpet bombing that occurred in just one single week). But, they have been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so protections are given to the area and restoration is being done on some of the major temples through a partnership with India (of all places – sort of karmic that we were just there).
We arrive in the car park, then take a little motorized golf cart type shuttle up into the hills for our first glimpse of My Son. Hung tells us we have a choice in how we can tour My Son, the easy tourist way, or the harder local way. We of course choose the harder way, and are led onto a path that veers off from the main “easier for tourists” paved route, looping through the valley between tall grass and sparse tree cover. We are essentially touring “backwards” through the complex, thus avoiding the vast majority of other tourists. Good plan Hung!
Our first stop is the K group (all the temple areas are lettered and numbered), a small sanctuary from the 11th century believed to be dedicated to Brahmi, a goddess incarnation of the Brahma, God of creation. It is little more than a couple of sections of walls where Hung points out different restoration attempts from the 1930s when the French began research and conservation of the temples. He talks about construction techniques, and how to replicate the red brick clay used as mortar for the bricks. As we continue to make our way further into the complex, we begin to see the bomb craters left from the 1969 bombings, still so readily visible today and a stark reminder of what military bravado that lacks a true understanding of an adversary will get you in the long-run….a senseless effort with no winners in final analysis. But I digress….
At groups E & F, we see how the temples fell – either through the aging process, earthquakes or the bombings, not quite sure – but the buildings are in rubble, with bricks strewn about the area (looking very much like the earthquake damage in Nepal). In and amidst the falling bricks, you can still pick out Gods and animal carvings and statuary peeking out from the ruins of the now crumbling temples. There are also large pillars laying on the ground, next to their bases – some female (round) and some male (square) that have some cultural significance that is lost on me, but that Hung likes to talk about, male, female, etc. There is a story associated with every temple – from a god of goddess to what it was used for before being abandoned in the 15th century when the Champa lost their territory to the Viet. It’s all pretty amazing, but information overload for me. I’m just happy to wander around in the overcast morning, looking at these amazing structures nestled here between two mountain ranges.
Along the way, Hung will quiz us about things he has told us, and delight when we answer correctly. He’s such a hoot. We stop at Group A to watch some traditional dancers accompanied by musicians with a crumbling temple as a back drop, then press onward through overgrown fields that match the overgrown ruins rising up from the earth. The idea that some of these structures, ruins or not, were built 1500 years ago is mind-boggling. And that so much has survived is even more astonishing. Some of the carvings are so detailed and clear, you wouldn’t believe they are centuries old. Hung is happy to wander around with us, pointing out different carvings for us to photograph, and playing photographer himself, posing us in a bunch of different areas to get just the best shot. He also delights in telling us how the Champa worshipped the Linga here, a symbol of Shiva, which looks like a penis. He actually just delights in saying the word penis, I think, because he says it over and over again. See, a total hoot this guy is!
We arrive at the outermost edges of the complex where peaceful and quiet descends, offering us an abundance of time, alone, to enjoy the beautiful views of crumbling temples juxtaposed against vibrant green trees and mist covered rolling hills in the distance. The only sounds are the birds and Hung’s voice explaining what we are seeing. When we turn to head back to the main temple area, the peace and quiet evaporate (sort of like at the La Siesta pool in the afternoons!) as we run smack dab into hordes of tourists milling about the main B, C & D temple area. Yikes! Nonetheless, Hung deftly maneuvers us around most of the people for good looks at the store house, towering stories above us and the carvings that surround it. He also guides us into a little museum set up inside one of the temples, which houses some beautiful examples of carved stone taken from the site. Many of the statues have been taken away to other country’s museums, but fortunately the conservation efforts have saved quite a few carvings to house here on the grounds.
We continue our circuit through the other temple structures, with Hung providing his overview and photographer services. It’s crazy crowded though, which sort of takes away from the history a bit. We have timed our touring though, so that we can watch another Apsara dance, this time in the main auditorium by the golf cart station. This dance exhibition is far more intricate and much longer than the first (so long in fact, the video we have has to be edited quite a bit before we can load it up to YouTube!). But it is nice to sit here (in the front row, because that is where Hung has put our chairs!) and watch the beautiful dance (and dancers) go through their routines.
After the performance, we hit the restrooms and wait with the crowds for a golf cart to shuttle us back to the car. Hung of course commandeers one for us, and another tour guide he knows along with her charges, so we jump to the head of the line. Our return trip to Hoi An will be by boat, so we say goodbye to Yung as he drops us off, and we follow Hung who buys us some water and also a rice paper crunching snack (which is so totally good, I want to find more!!) for us to munch on as we walk down the dirt road to get to our boat, idling in the river.
We have our own private boat, with an adorable boat driver who offers us chocolate cookies as we board, which we decline because we have our awesome rice paper crispy snack right now. But, what is it with all these food offerings? It is so nice, and later, after reading a great book about a Vietnamese-American who goes back to find his roots, we learn that it is Vietnamese custom to offer guests something to eat and normally drink whenever they visit you, but it isn’t something we’ve experienced before.
On the boat, Hung again acts as our photographer, then also asks if we want to make a special visit to a 400 year old pottery village. Well, heck, he said the right word: pottery! We all know I’m all about visiting a pottery village. He gives us an additional price – for the boat driver, and for admission – to which we agree and our driver veers off to the north bank of the river heading for the village. Hung has told us that we can take a tour from our hotel, but that it is more expensive to do it that way, this is a bargain, and it is easier because we are right here. As it turns out, the village is maybe a 5 minute ride from the hotel – and as it turns out it is sort of hokey. There are tons and tons of pottery stores and little “factories” so to speak, all making pottery in the old ways – which means taking the red clay, forming it, letting it dry in the sun, then putting it in the kiln for final fire. But really, all the stuff that are on the shelves look like the mass produced pottery you can find everywhere – they are definitely made from molds, not hand thrown or hand worked. The highlight though is definitely when we stop at a potters store and she shows us how she throws jars and tops. The first interesting thing is that she uses a huge slab of clay, and takes the jar off the top of the slab, leaving enough left on the wheel for 2 or 3 more jars. She doesn’t use individual pieces of clay for each piece. And the second interesting thing is that she is not using and electric wheel, but a manual wheel pushed by her husband’s foot while he stands above her. It is truly amazing that they used to create pottery this way (and truly amazing in terms of exercise too!). And I use the past tense, because Hung is talking to the woman while we watch, and then after she stops, and while I don’t understand the language, she shows him underneath the wheel where there is definitely an electric motor there – obviously to be used when the tourists aren’t watching. But no matter, the demonstration was still fascinating, and I could watch her throw those jars all day long, she was so good, and fast and efficient.
We wander about, looking at the different pottery, but there isn’t a thing there that I couldn’t try to make or buy in a souvenir shop. I do see some great wind chimes made of ceramic conical hats – but these are definitely mass produced, and if I take another pottery class, then I’m making them myself! We do stop at one shop and buy some chopsticks that catch our eye – they look like wood (they aren’t, they are plastic) and are super heavy – and cheap! The lady there gives us tamarind candy to snack on as we leave. There we go with the food again, although she was probably trying to sell us some candy too. LOL. When we go to pay for our “entrance” fee, we get a bonus – little pottery whistles in the form of each of our birth year signs. I’m the oxen – which starts Hung off on a tangent about what it means for me to be an ox – and Ed is a tiger. No arguments there! Hung insists we blow on them, but that’s not happening – not without a very good Purell washing first (he doesn’t know us well enough yet), so he plops them in these cute little bags (another bonus) and we circle back to the boat, passing a small temple with a fig tree in the courtyard that had a carved stone elephant in an alcove created by the roots of the tree. It is a little shrine in the tree, representing the Champa-Vietnamese cultural integration from the 8th and 9th century here in Hoi An.
Back on the boat, it doesn’t take us but a few minutes to glide our way back to the banks of the river near our hotel. Our exit from the boat is a little rocky – literally, as the rock Ed climbs out on shifts and almost tumbles him in the water – but we both make it safely, and dryly, ashore and follow Hung along the river road and through a hard packed lot to arrive right across the street from the front door. Along the way, he informs us that he will also be taking us to Hue tomorrow. He says he has traded for us – huh, we wondered what was going on with the long involved telephone conversation he was having on the boat, guess now we know. That works for us – he is a great guide, very knowledgeable and very humorous, we’re happy to send another day with him.
He deposits us in the lobby, wishing us a good rest of the afternoon and telling us we’ll see him in the morning. And with that, we have the whole afternoon to ourselves. We decide that it is time to just chill out, and we do just that. Hanging out in the room and on the balcony, then hitting the gym for an afternoon work out. We go downstairs to The Temple restaurant for their 2 for 1 happy hour special, sitting in the cool queen size swing (its like a huge swinging mattress with a little breakfast in bed table atop it) off to the side of the pool, so we can avoid most of the noise and Chinese revelry over there.
Tonight we are using our included set course menu credits for dinner at the Red Bean, so we don’t have to go anywhere or do anything special – just freshen up and walk around the gardens to the restaurant. We are seated outside on the patio, which has cooled off quite nicely and sit back to enjoy our Asian set meal (we had hoped to each have a different set menu, but that’s not how this works, so after some discussion with the waitress, we settle on Asian). The food is excellent, a nice fresh spring roll to start, then soup that Ed can have all to himself and a sautéed chicken and vegetable dish. Yummy and just the right amount. The waitress comes back to take our plates and tells us they would like to serve us dessert on the house because of the confusion with the menu – which again is lovely and completely unnecessary, but that is just the way these guys operate – which is one of the reasons we love them. We thank her profusely, but decline the offer of sweets this late in the evening and repair to our balcony to spend the rest of the evening just hanging about relaxing in general.
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