Vietnam Day 28 (7/5/09)

In the morning, we hopped aboard a river boat. The boat was designed for tourists with colorful dragons on the bow. We were sitting on chairs on a patio-like platform enclosed by windows on all sides. Frankly it didn’t feel like a boat ride at all without wind and seaspray, but it was a nice way to see the river. We passed many traditional wooden fishing boats, as well as many other tourist boats with the same dragons and closed off interiors. On one of the fishing boats, we saw an entire family from grandmother to two-year old taking turns bathing on the deck by dumping buckets of river water over their heads. On the bank, we passed a number of couples having picnics in the park, some too busy kissing to notice us pass. We soon found that the boat tour was a very organized business. It was a family run boat (with a wedding photo of the owners displayed on the back wall), so each family member took turns showing us souvenirs and driving the boat. The patriarch was sure to take the wheel when we came to a checkpoint, a police boat where every vessel had to stop and provide evidence of ownership and a boating license.

Our destination was the Celestial Lady Pagoda, one of the most famous in Vietnam. The first thing you see when you walk up is the large traditional tower, which is only opened a few times a year for special occasions. Around it was a brick courtyard with small elevated stone gazebos containing bells and artistic stone engravings. My favorite was a prayer carved on a stone slab that sat atop a large turtle. The whole pagoda was light and welcoming and would probably have been peaceful were it not for the overwhelming number of tourists (one large group wearing baseball caps with the Vietnamese flag on them) taking pictures in front of everything imaginable. I did find a little peace off to the edge of the courtyard where I found a magnificent view of the Perfume River. Once again, I found myself wondering how the monks who live here cope with all the tourists that come through.

There is a large monastery at this pagoda, including many child monks (both boys and girls) who were either orphaned, sent here by there parents for their education, or came by choice to study Buddhism. We saw a group of children (with distinctive hairstyles in which the whole head is shaved except for a patch in front which is swept off to the side) facing the wall in a long room exposed to the packs of tourists looking in. They were doing a patience exercise in which they were supposed to look at the wall or read and tune out distraction. Most of them were doing very poorly, turning around to talk to each other and play games. I felt bad looking in too long and even worse when people took pictures as if these kids were in a zoo. The older monks didn’t seem as concerned – after all, the more distraction the more meaningful the exercise is. The pagoda was very beautiful but it was also overcrowded and Hue is stifling hot (the locals had almost as much sweat dripping down their faces as I did), so we couldn’t stay all that long.

Back at the hotel, I packed up, took one last look over the high city buildings in the distance contrasted against the tin-roofed houses below me, and waved goodbye to the woman watering her plants on the rooftop garden nextdoor to the hotel. After a little trouble at airport security (Phat’s shampoo was confiscated, which isn’t a big deal but for a while we didn’t know where they had taken him), we boarded the flight back to our home away from home in Saigon. The flight was pretty short but pretty horrible. You know how a certain musical pitch can shatter glass? Well, a specific altitude on a plane can do the same to my eardrums. For almost an hour, I sat furiously chewing gum and faking yawns, trying desperately to equalize my ears which were collapsing under the pressure. I never did quite get them to pop my ears certainly felt better once we’d landed. It was nearly eleven p.m. by the time we reached the guesthouse but no one had eaten dinner yet, so we decided to relive one of our first moments in Vietnam and go back to the place where we had our first pho the night of our arrival. It was still wonderful, but a completely different experience since now I was able to compare it to all the other pho I’ve eaten since that first time – the noodles are smaller and softer (much less firm that the 18 Alley pho) and the broth more oily (which can be excellent for enhancing all the hot sauce I dump in). I was expecting deja vous but instead added another layer of complexity to my perception of pho.