Peaceful in Paradise

As I noted in my last post, we've slowed down a lot. We're not at full stop, but we're close. Today is Sunday, and as I contemplated a title for this post I thought of words to use with "Sunday" to describe our new found level of lassitude. "Soporific" came to mind along with "suspended". "Sedated" perhaps. Seriously, we know full well that in just a couple of days we'll be on our way to Hanoi, and this lovely time to read, relax, and enjoy superb food will have come to an end. Knowing that, we're enjoying every last minute of being here.

We have done a couple of things. Friday night we went into Hoi Anh and had a great meal of local food with local folks for a local price of about $5 each.

We discovered the old part of the city near the river. It is lovely, with lanterns, illuminated floats in the river, bridges. That area is closed to motorized vehicles so it's mercifully free from the noise of engines and horns. My camera battery was low that night, but we're going back tonight, and I'll take some photos.

Yesterday, Saturday, we went to My Son. My Son was the spiritual capital of the Cham empire of which Hoi Anh was the commercial capital. My Son was continually occupied for perhaps a thousand years and the temples, of which there were at least seventy, date from around 400 A.D. to 1400 A.D. They were Hindu temples dedicated to, for the most part, Shiva. In their time period and purpose, they are very reminiscent of what we saw in Cambodia. I remember seeing, in Angkor Wat, bas relief murals depicting glorious victory by the Khmer empire over the ignoble Cham. Perhaps My Son temples had murals depicting victories by the Cham over the Khmer. We'll never know because there's not enough left in My Son to show such things.

We were a bit disappointed, frankly, at how little of My Son remains. It's much smaller than Angkor Wat. Much, much smaller. And there is so little still intact. Some of the reason for that is that we carpet bombed the area during the Vietnam War. Had to be done, apparently. There was once a magnificent 70 foot tall temple. Now, it's just a pile of bricks. But, the setting is beautiful. The day we were there was misty with clouds resting low on the mountains close in the west. Despite the tourists it was serene, I thought, as though the place had fallen into deep, peaceful sleep.

Getting there was less than peaceful. I can't help but wonder what it would be like for these folks to have to get along without horns. Someone at the side of the road? Beep. Traffic coming? Beep. Passing someone? Beep. And each "beep" isn't just a "beep". It's a "beep-beep-beep-beep". Maybe more, but who's counting? The only time one does not beep one's horn is when one is the only vehicle on the road, and I suspect even then there would be occasional beeping, if only to be sure it still worked or perhaps just for the sheer, exuberant joy of beeping. And to top it all off there are not only the high pitched motor bike horns and the standard car horns, but the trucks and busses have special, never heard in the U.S.A. loud horns designed, surely, to wake the dead and alarm ships at sea. OMG!

But, I digress. The trip to My Son took about an hour. On arrival, we bought our tickets and drove over the entry bridge

to the drop off area. From there we walked in.

This map shows the temple sites. It makes it look larger than it really is.

There are well marked paths, so you can't really get lost. You wouldn't stray from the path because the underbrush tends to be pretty thick and, in addition, even though the area is supposedly cleared of land mines, you never know. Not that there's a good place for that sort of thing, but rural Vietnam would seem an especially bad place to have your leg blown off.

I need to get back to my serenity theme. Here's My Son.

This man, in his uniform, appeared to be picking berries. It reminded me, for some reason, of the song "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"

I wondered whether this might be what's left of that magnificent 70 foot high temple.

I read that to this day no one knows how the bricks were cemented in place. Also, the images, instead of being carved on some other material and inserted into the bricks, are actually carved into the brick.

A few more images.

When we were finished we walked back to our car and driver and beeped our way back to Nam Hai. Here, in our room, we dined on the bread, "la Vache qui Rit" cheese, and canned stewed pork we had bought especially for that purpose. We amused ourselves thinking we were no doubt the only guests at Nam Hai dining in such elegance. It wasn't bad at all, especially accompanied by the Johnny Walker Black and Tanqueray gin and tonic we thoughtfully had provided ourselves. Throw in "Dreamgirls" on the computer, thoughtfully loaned us by Nate and ported to the t.v. by our bed, and we were in traveller heaven.

It's a good life.