AMAZING ANGKOR WAT

Stone sentinels on the causeway, leading to the famous Angkor Temples

The kingdom of Angkor was once the greatest empire that Southeast Asia had ever known. Their lands included not only Cambodia, but what are now parts of Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. They were a culture far ahead of their time, accomplished in architecture, engineering, irrigation and agriculture. 

Recent history during the Khmer Rouge era was a low point in Cambodia, but through it all the glorious sights of Angkor survived the wars, survived communism, survived the jungles, survived the ages. Long unknown to the outside world, these wondrous Angkor temples are again open to foreigners like me. 

On this tropical day, I’ve departed Siem Reap, an unromantic town that is awash in hotels, restaurants and bars aimed at tourists. Fortunately, the town is far from the temples. I've rented a tuk-tuk and driver for the day, and headed out to the temples to explore. I won't be disappointed. 

Archway used by royalty to mount elephants!

On my way into the temple complex, my tuk-tuk crosses onto a long causeway bridge. The railings on both sides are like those I’ve never seen. Each is formed from a long line of ancient stone statues. Stern warrior faces are topped with Khmer headresses. The long snake-like railing they bear has broken off in some places. Some of these statues have been decapitated by looters, in years gone by. 

Reaching the end of this bridge, I'm met by an amazing archway of stone. At the top, enormous faces look out from three towers, as if keeping watch over all who enter. This high archway was made for elephants! Used by Angkor royalty, the king and his family used to mount and dismount elephants from the steps beneath the arch. Elephants still occasionally walk through here today, though most traffic passing through these days are tuk-tuks and bicycles. As I pass through, I look up to see numerous bats clinging to the high ceiling. Like most of Angkor nowadays, there are more animals here in this ancient city than anything else. 

Continuing on through the jungle, we soon reach my destination, and I leave my ride. My eyes widen, and I stare. 

Angkor Wat! 

I gaze at a wonder of the ancient world. It is the unmistakable outline of Angkor Wat, the largest religious building in the entire world. It's spectacular, awesome, stunning, mind blowing. The Angkor temples are one of those places, where adjectives are insufficient in describing them. Angkor Wat is so synonymous with Cambodia, that this temple is on the country's national flag.

Amazing Angkor Wat, the largest religious building in the world

Approaching the complex another causeway leads me across an ancient man made lake, arriving at a stone entranceway. A doorway between two stone pillars leads inside. I notice some lightly colored dots and marks to the sides. These were bullet holes from the war years, only recently filled in with cement. Renovations are still underway. 

The doorway takes me through the outer wall of this grand complex, and onto a long stone walkway. Angkor Wat is directly in front of me in the distance. It’s blazingly hot! It’s afternoon, and the tropical heat is at it’s peak, easily over 90 degrees. I’m unfazed though, since the heat at this time of day will keep away many tourists. There are some visitors about, but not the masses that will be here for sunset. It’s a long hot walk; seems a mile. But it’s fitting for me to walk this way. It is better to approach Angkor Wat just as its pilgrims did centuries ago, on foot. With each step, the great 12th century edifice grows larger in front of me. 

Remains of a brightly painted interior hallway, the whole temple was once this color

Finally arriving at the temple itself, I climb the steps and walk into the cool shade inside. 

Along the interior, there is a noticeable splash of color. The exterior is all dark stone, but here I see the originally painted colors. These pillars still have patches of dark crimson. As magnificent as this temple looks now, I can only imagine how Angkor Wat must have looked back before the paint started to fade.

There are many great carvings upon the walls. Common among  them, are the Apsara nymphs. These female Apsara dancers are depicted performing their graceful dances in front of the Khmer king. They wear shapely outfits, low cut skirts, tight tops, and ornate headdresses. Some have mysterious smiles. 

There are few statues to be found in Angkor Wat, and I soon find out why. Coming into one hall, I find many Buddhist statues. Most have been decapitated, by looters, or by the atheist Khmer Rouge. With so much else to fill the senses here, the lack of statues is hardly noticeable. 

Monkey resting in temple shade

There are many faces, friezes and bas reliefs all over the walls, along with the stunning architecture. I find a long covered walkway in the back, with a bas relief stretching the entire width of the temple depicting a religious scene from antiquity. It’s crowded with carved Hindu deities, royalty and mythical figures. Gods, chariots, and soldiers, with fighting depicted. Like many of the Angkor temples, Angkor Wat was originally made for Hindu worship, and converted to Buddhist use later. 

As I walk along, I notice a stray dog far ahead of me, and it walks out a corner doorway. Taking my time, I finish my stroll admiring the huge bas relief, until I walk out the same door. 

I freeze in my tracks. That wasn’t a dog walking in front of me, it was a monkey, and a big one at that! It’s now only two steps in front of me. Brown with a long tail, and white fur on his chest and neck, it’s a macaque monkey. He’s seated, resting in the shade of the entranceway. 

Upon seeing him, I jump back with a start, and he glares up at me, perhaps annoyed that I’ve disturbed his privacy in the shade. He turns, walks down the steps, and makes his way across the grass before disappearing into the jungle. 

Before it gets too late, I take my leave of this magnificent place. 

Buddhist monk walks in Angkor Wat

On my way out, I head down the walkway from whence I came. A Buddhist monk slowly walks towards me, on his way to the temple. He wears the simple orange robe and sandals that all Buddhist monks wear. The only thing modern about him is his orange umbrella, which is  shielding him from the hot sun. 

As these temples were once a place of conflict, I'm glad that they are once again a place of peaceful religious worship. Angkor Wat is now a place loved by many; both tourists and Buddhists alike. 

Apsara dancers on the temple walls

MEETING A BUDDHIST MONK

Young Buddhist monks (photo:Wikipedia)

Although much of Cambodia’s cultural heritage is decaying, one important part is thriving: Buddhism. Much like Vientiane, numerous Buddhist temples and monasteries, (wats) are all over Phnom Penh. There are more than I can visit, and they are grand. Cambodia may be a very poor country, but you’d never know it by looking at their Buddhist temples. They are far more elaborate and grandiose than those in neighboring Vietnam.

In recent years, many new Buddhist temples have been built, and old ones are being restored. The French may have brought Catholicism here, and the communists brought atheism, but Buddhism survived them all.

Tonight, a friend is introducing me to Cheuh, a 24 year old Khmer with a different view on life. Originally from Kampong Thom in the countryside, he has lived for years in Phnom Penh. Cheuh loves books, and has a real thirst for knowledge. He speaks a fair amount of English that he learned back in school. His occupation, is a common one in Cambodia.

Cheuh is a Buddhist monk, and he’s been one for ten years.

We’re meeting Cheuh at Wat Sarawan, a monastery and pagoda downtown. As we enter the living quarters, it resembles a dormitory. Curious monks look at me as I walk down the hall; once again I’m venturing where few white people go.

We walk in, and Cheuh gets up to shake my hand. Short like most Khmers, his head is shaved, and he wears the bright saffron orange robe that all monks wear. I already saw many more robes hanging out to dry on clotheslines in the hallway.

Buddhist temple on the Mekong River

Cheuh shares this small room with another monk. He invites me to sit on his small twin bed, while he sits across from me on his roommate's bed. He apologizes for the room’s size, but I say it’s no problem. This is about the size of the dorm room that I occupied for two years back in University. The shelves above his bed are loaded with books, in both Khmer and English.

As we chat, more monks gather in the doorway, curious about the tall foreign visitor. Many monks come from poor families; it’s likely they don’t understand my English. I ask Cheuh how many more monks live here in this large dormitory.

“Wat Sarawan have 200 (to) 250 monks,” he tells me.

Like all monks, 24 year old Cheuh leads a strict, celibate lifestyle. His is the monastic life, even more conservative than that of Catholic priests. Buddhist monks in Cambodia neither smoke, nor drink. They are not allowed to touch women at all, not even to shake their hands. If a Khmer woman hands a glass of water to a monk, it is common for her to place the glass on a plate first. This manner respectfully avoids physical contact.

Statues of Buddha in a temple (photo: Wikipedia)

“Is it difficult for you to lead a life, with no touching of women?” I ask curiously.

His answer to me is a bit evasive. “The rule,” he says, “I respect.”

Back when the Khmer Rouge were in Phnom Penh, Cheuh wasn’t here, but he knows all about it. “They don’t like the Buddhism,” he says of the radical communists, “they hate (it).”

Cheuh relayed to me how when the Khmer Rouge took over the city, they immediately invaded all the Wats. “They make the monk leave the pagoda,” he said, speaking of the forced exodus. “Go work in the field, feed the animal(s).”

The violently atheist Khmer Rouge targeted the wats, pagodas, and the monks too, aiming to eliminate all facets of Buddhism. 

“Some of the pagoda, they destroy,” Cheuh told me of those terrible days. “Some monk, they kill.”

But for Buddhists, everything is temporary. After the war ended and the Khmer Rouge were demobilized, many of their former fighters returned to their Buddhist faith. These killers had returned to the very religion, that they had once been ordered to destroy.

Like in Catholicism, I’m learning that forgiveness is also important in Buddhism. Among the world’s religions, Buddhists are certainly among the more tolerant that I’ve met. Cheuh and I briefly discuss other religions, and he says, “Buddhist, Catholic, Islamists, we can respect other religions.” Indeed.

A Buddhist spirit house

As it’s getting late, I thank Cheuh for his time, and take my leave. As I head for home, I ponder the simple, yet admirable life that Cheuh and other young monks are leading. Their life seems to be totally detached from the rat race that us westerners know too well. Beyond his books he has few possessions, yet he truly seems to be content. Just by speaking with Cheuh, I felt a sense of calm, an aura of peace.

So much of what I’ve heard about Cambodia before I had came here was negative, and I’m pleased that I’ve seen a new side of the Khmer spirit. The chaos of the capital and the government corruption may have blinded me during my days here. True, I'd seen corrupt policemen with AK-47's, shaking down street vendors. I’d also seen politicians with too much power shut down entire streets, simply so that their motorcades could pass at high speed. They are all chasing the dollar, all pursuing more power.

With all these pessimistic scenes, I had forgotten that most Cambodians don’t live solely for those worldly, empty pursuits. The tenets of Buddhism remain a part of that honorable culture.

It’s been refreshing to get to know Cheuh tonight. He represents the real spirit of Cambodia, far more than those in power.

THE TEMPLE, THE HILL AND THE OLD RUSSIAN GUN

Climbers reaching the peak are rewarded with a view of the old capital and the Khan River

Today the skies are mostly clear, so I head back into the downtown of the old capital of Laos, Luang Prabang. On my way I find a coffee cart, so I stop to buy a mocha coffee shake. At 6,000 kip, it only costs me around US $.70. It’s delicious, and I slurp it down quickly as I walk away. Then I get to the bottom of the shake, and something gets stuck in the straw. 

It’s a rubber band!

Oh well, I don’t think the coffee vendor put that in there intentionally. Or did she charge me extra for it?

Tossing what’s left of it in a bin, I continue to Chomsy Hill, near the royal palace. Today I’ll climb it. I get winded as I head up the numerous red brick stairs, since this is the highest point of Luang Prabang. It’s a tiring climb, and after pausing at different levels on the way I reach the top step, number 228. I’m thankful I didn’t have to deal with anything dangerous on this climb, unlike that mishap that I had back on Marble Mountain in Vietnam. 

A young lady shaking sticks in a cup, a Buddhist ritual

There’s not a lot of room atop Chomsy Hill’s peak, but there is a small temple. Since I’m sweating from the climb, I wonder if ascending this hill is a type of Buddhist pilgrimage. 

I look through the window of the tiny temple, and two young Lao women are within praying in front of a small altar. Burning incense is in the air; one young lady is shaking a can of sticks between her hands. Resembling chop sticks with writing on them, these are Buddhist fortune sticks. The young lady shakes the canister up and down at an angle repeatedly, until one stick falls out onto the temple floor. This stick will be taken to a monk, who will interpret the stick’s message as her fortune. Each stick can also be matched to a longer written fortune, to be taken along for reference. 

Beyond the temple is the highest point of Chomsy Hill, the golden Phousi Stupa. It looks familiar, much like the immense golden stupa that I saw in Vientiane, though smaller. But the view from here is far better. As a pair of butterflies flit by me, I walk around the stupa and get a panoramic view of Luang Prabang. With fewer clouds today, I can see for miles. 

The golden Phousi Stupa adorns the peak

To one side is the Khan River and the approach to the airport. Without tall buildings, most of the cityscape is thankfully blanketed with old trees. The highest structure in view is another golden temple off in the distant hills. 

From the other side of the stupa I look down on the old colonial town, with the Mekong River and many mountain chains beyond it. It’s very tough terrain, I can only see one dirt road beyond the river that heads into the rugged mountains. Anyone hardy enough to cross the many miles beyond those peaks will find an important boundary. There is the center of the ‘Golden Triangle’, where the borders of Laos, Myanmar (Burma) and Thailand meet. Further beyond in that direction: China. Laos may be poor, but it does have its strategic places. 

I’m grateful for the excellent view, but today it’s blazing hot up here. I’m still overheated from my ascent, so I find a bench to sit in the shade. Taking a seat, I’m startled to find I’m sharing the bench with two tiny birds, inhabiting an equally tiny bamboo cage. This may seem a strange place for caged birds, but a vendor is selling them up here to the Buddhist faithful. One way a Buddhist can earn merit at a temple, is to buy caged birds, and release them back into the wild. Of course this only encourages the vendors to go back out into the wild and trap more birds, to be used for the same purpose. But it works for the Buddhists. 

Almost on cue, a Laotian Airlines plane swoops nearby in the valley, straight across from me at eye level, at the same altitude. As the plane’s engines blare, the birds hop around and chirp excitedly from within their cage. They want to fly too. 

Russian anti-aircraft gun mount on temple hill

Not long after, a Buddhist woman who bought the birds returns to retrieve them. Soon the bamboo bars are pried apart, and the feathered ones are set free. They quickly dart into the air, landing in nearby trees. I hope that they won’t be re-captured, and have to go through this all over again. 

Feeling sufficiently cooled, I walk to the other side of the temple ridge. Beyond a flagpole flying the Laotian flag, I find something completely unexpected. The communists have been up here too, and they left behind the remains of an old Soviet 23mm anti-aircraft emplacement. The gun itself has been removed, leaving the base and the mount behind. 

I wonder to myself, why on earth was this placed here next to a temple? Probably because this hilltop has an excellent view overlooking the valley, facing the approach to the airport. Perhaps this old Russian weapon was brought up here in the post-war 1980's, when Pathet Lao communists were worried about conflict with Thailand. 

I find the gun mount’s supporting arm unlocked, and I give it a strong shove. The steel arm swoops around in a full circle, creaking loudly as it rotates. The mount isn’t level, so the arm continues to swoop back and forth like a swing, until it finally comes to a stop. 

The gun’s arm is aimed straight at the flagpole, and at the temple buildings behind it. 

How eerie.

Really, they ought to drag this old gun mount down from the temple peak, and recycle it for scrap. It doesn’t belong in such a peaceful place. 

Another view from atop Chomsy Hill facing the Mekong River, with mountain ridges beyond

BUDDHISM AND RELIGIOUS OPPRESSION IN LAOS

Buddhist monks by the Mekong River

It’s as though I’ve been transported back in time. 

I’m on an old stone stairway overlooking the Mekong, when a simple wooden boat pulls up to the riverbank below. It docks at the base of the long staircase, and four Buddhist monks step ashore, then begin ascending the steps. Their bright saffron orange robes stand out against the natural earthly colors of the surrounding landscape. Like all monks, their heads are completely shaved. These humble monks carry nothing, since they possess nothing. They are silent, and the only sound they make is the light slapping of their sandals as they rise the steps towards me. They pass by me quietly, then enter the monastery that is their home at the top of the hill. 

There is no hint of modern technology in what I’ve seen. This scene typifies the simple life that has existed in Buddhist monasteries of Laos for centuries. In this quiet town Buddhism is the dominant religion followed by Lowland Lao, the country’s largest ethnic group. The Lowland Lao are traditionally Theravada Buddhists, an early and traditional form of the religion.

As one of the world’s older religions, Buddhism predates Christianity. The religion is based on the idea that life is suffering. But by accepting this idea as fact, through Buddhism suffering can be avoided and happiness attained. Reincarnation is a central theme, and they believe that good deeds and charitable donations build merit for each to improve their position in their next life. 

Buddhism was first brought to Luang Prabang in the 13th or 14th century, making this town the spiritual center of Laos. It’s no wonder that I’ve walked by so many temples and shrines during my stay here. 

The old wooden temple of the Buddhist monastery

Visiting hours are over, so I come back another day. When I return, I climb the old steps and enter this revered place known as a wat, which is a monastery temple. The name of this particular Buddhist monastery is a mouthful: 
“Wat Xiengthongratsavoravihanh”. This aging complex was originally built way back in the 16th century on orders of the King. It’s one of the few wats in all of Luang Prabang that wasn’t destroyed over the centuries during various pre-colonial invasions. 

As opposed to the great stone temples that Southeast Asia is known for, this temple and most others in town are made of wood. Despite their lack of heavy stone, they are grand architectural structures. Looking up at the dark temple, curving, traditionally tiled rooftops slope over heavy wooden pillars. The tiles were at one time red, but have been heavily darkened from years of aging. Snakelike nagas emerge from the rooftop’s corners. These serpent-like figures are the only thing that looks threatening in the entire monastery. 

One of many elaborate mosaics decorates a temple building

Many buildings and shrines in this compound are adorned with mosaics, depicting life in old Luang Prabang. There are colorful scenes of men riding elephants, boats conducting trade, farmers working the rice fields, and of course monks conducting Buddhist rituals. 

As I approach the main temple, I can hear the unmistakeble sound of chanting. Reaching the door, I peer in to find an impressive sight. All of the wat’s monks, around 30 of them, are seated cross legged on the floor. They are chanting in unison. Facing them at the far end, is an immense, elevated golden statue of Buddha. Like the monks, it wears an orange robe across one its golden shoulders. Smaller Buddha statues and colorful flowers surround the tall icon. 

To the sides, six massive wooden pillars support the ceiling, with intricate gold detailing covering them from top to bottom. Each pillar has been fashioned from a single giant tree taken from the jungle. There are no windows here and lighting is dim, giving a somber feel to the scene. Since there are only monks inside, I decide to stay at the door and watch. This is Buddhist ritual as it has been for centuries.

Buddhist monks of all ages inside the temple

Buddhist monks renounce worldly pleasures, and theses men live a very basic life of study and meditation. For sustenance, they rely on donations from their neighbors. At dawn in Luang Prabang, gongs heard in the streets announce the approach of a procession of monks. Holding metal containers, they accept gifts of rice from Buddhists, who earn merit from their donations.

Looking over these chanting monks, they appear to be arranged by age. The oldest are seated in front, with the youngest in the back near me. Some of these novice monks look no older than 12. One way that families earn merit is by having their sons enter a wat, and most Lao males become a monk for at least a three month period. If they decide to become a monk for life, they may pursue the ultimate goal of 'nirvana', or enlightenment. 

Buddhism was the official state religion for centuries, until Kaysone and the communists took over. Pushing toward the secular, they began discouraging the practice of many Buddhist traditions. Families were discouraged from sending their sons into wats, and it was forbidden to give rice or alms to the monks on their morning rounds. 

But the ethnic Lao identified with Buddhism far more than they did with the communists, and these restrictions lost them support from devout Buddhists. Fortunately these restrictions didn’t last; policies were relaxed in the 1980’s. By the 1990’s, government officials of the communist party were openly supporting Buddhism again, even taking part in Buddhist celebrations. Government meddling isn’t completely gone though. Most monks now receive some government indoctrination as part of their training. In the past half century, Communism in Laos has changed far more than Buddhism has.

Young monks pile into a truck in Luang Prabang, the country's spiritual capital

Although the communists' restrictions on Buddhists have lessened, these reforms have not extended to all faiths. Government repression has shifted from the Buddhists, to Protestants. Although a small minority in Laos, the government still fears the rise of Christian converts. 

According to a 2008 report from the US State Department, “Local officials have pressured minority Protestants to renounce their faith on threat of arrest or forceful eviction from their villages in Bolikhamsai, Houaphan, and Luang Namtha provinces. In some areas, Protestants have been forbidden to gather to worship.”

Threats of arrests sometimes lead to imprisonment. One example in the report refers to oppression in Bokeo: “The village had previously experienced problems, as in late 2005 when local officials destroyed an unapproved LEC church in Houaysay Noi Village and arrested six church leaders. One of the six died while in jail, and the other five were released in early 2006."

Although freedom of religion is supposed to be guaranteed in the current constitution of Laos, what actually happens in practice is something else. The communist government has made a peace with Buddhism, but they aren’t about to grant genuine religious freedom anytime soon. 

THE GOLD TEMPLE

The impressive looking, 'World Precious Sacred Stupa' in Vientiane

I’m not quite believing my eyes.

I’m looking at a grand religious tower, and it appears to be made of gold.

This must be the largest golden structure I’ve ever seen. Like something out of an old movie, it’s a tall, golden Buddhist stupa shining in the sunlight. I never expected to see something like this in a poor country like Laos. This beats other golden icons I’ve seen anywhere, the size is just enormous.

This is Pha That Luang, also known as the, 'World Precious Sacred Stupa'.

Surrounded by a dark stone wall, three golden levels reach up to the center stupa. Approaching, I find the stairs to climb and and around the different levels. The platform around the tower is surrounded by a wall of gigantic, golden lotus flower petals. Continuing up, the great stupa is surrounded by many smaller stupas, forming what almost appears to be a gigantic golden fence.  

Of course the stupa isn’t constructed of gold itself, Laos is far too poor for that. Most of the interior of this grand monument is brick and plaster, covered with gold paint. That doesn’t take away from the stunning view though, the gleaming center stupa reaches 147 feet high, almost as tall as the Statue of Liberty in New York.

Much like Lady Liberty is a symbol of America, the Grand Stupa is the national symbol of Laos. Pha That Luang Temple is for Buddhist worship; it represents the human progression from ignorance to enlightenment. The Supreme Patriarch of Lao Buddhism, the most revered monk in all of Laos, lives in one of the wats (monasteries) of this elaborate complex. 

The first stupa here was probably built around the 11th century. Local legend disagrees, many believe that the original stupa was built way back in the 3rd century, by Buddhists from India. The original relic located underneath the stupa is said to be one of the bones of Buddha himself, making this one of the most revered places in the country.
 

Old king of Laos statue guards the temple

Three golden levels lead to the stupa

In 1991 as communism collapsed worldwide, the Great Stupa replaced the hammer and sickle as the national symbol of Laos. This was very telling, since this national symbol has nothing to do with communism, and everything to do with Buddhism. The government finally returned to their real Laotian roots.

As I step back outside the protective wall, I notice a soldier passing by the entrance with a metal detector. As I watch, he sweeps the detector back and forth nearby. I’m puzzled to see him here. In Laos, anyone with a metal detector is usually looking for unexploded munitions, like the boys I had already seen along the old Ho Chi Minh Trail. But here, at their most revered monument? Perhaps the military still has concerns about possible terrorist attacks. Or maybe it’s a simpler reason; he could have been looking for dropped coins from visitors.

Gold statues in the temple complex

On the walkway leading to the stupa, there are numerous benches where Buddhist pilgrims can rest. I notice these benches are all painted with an advertisement for an airline from Thailand. How ironic to find them here, in a place that was once destroyed by the Thais.

When Thailand (then called Siam) invaded Laos in 1827, their soldiers destroyed this grand icon. The country’s beloved stupa, along with the rest of Vientiane, were left in ruins for decades. This wanton act of destruction hasn’t been forgotten by Laotians, and it’s one of the origins for their ongoing distrust of the Thais.

A somber statue of a Laotian royal, King Setthathirat, sits on a throne nearby. He has a sword laying across his lap, and he’s facing Thailand. It’s as though he’s guarding the stupa from future invaders.

As with other countries in Southeast Asia, over the centuries Laotians were usually dominated by their stronger neighbors. Kingdoms in the region would rise and fall, resulting in frequent border changes, and shifting regions of influence. The Khmer kings, the Vietnamese, the Thais, the Burmese, the Chinese, and the Chams all moved in and out of Laotian territory through the centuries.

Thailand (Siam) retained control of Laos for decades, until the French came onto the scene in 1893. That’s when the French sent two Navy gunboats up a Thai river, and anchored them off of Bangkok, directly threatening their capital. In negotiations that followed, the Thais were pressured to cede control of the land east of the Mekong River to the French. Laos became a French colony for decades to come. It was only in 1953 that the country once again became independent. They still fear domination by their neighbors in Thailand and Vietnam. 

I depart this impressive temple, and head back into Vientiane. 

SHOCKING BUDDHIST PROTEST

The auto which drove monk Thich Quang Duc to Saigon

I’ve headed upriver from downtown Hue, and gone to a quieter corner of this former royal capital. Today I’m exploring a calmer, more relaxed place. I’m wandering through a Buddhist complex known as the Thien Mu Pagoda, and I’m enjoying the serenity. No matter what your religion is, everyone will agree that a pagoda is a place of peace.

Hue has always been a prestigious center of learning, and this tradition of education carried over into the pagodas, where novice monks still learn the ways of Buddhism. Thien Mu means ‘heavenly lady’, and the complex was established way back in 1601. The pagoda overlooking the slowly flowing Perfume River is impressive in itself. At seven stories in height, it’s one of Vietnam’s tallest.

I meander past the monastery, where the monks in their robes are going about their simple daily tasks of maintaining the complex. They clean, cook, study and meditate.

As I walk past a side building in the rear, I’m puzzled to see an old parked car through open doors. This is an odd place for a garage. Inside is an old blue Austin sedan that hasn’t been driven in ages. Strangely, a white and brown rabbit is seated underneath the old auto. This car is connected to this pagoda, and its place in history. A sign in front of it reads:

“A relic. In this car The Most Venerable Thich Quang Duc went from An Quang Pagoda to the intersection of Phan dinh Phung street and Le van Duyet street on June 11, 1963 in Saigon. As soon as he got out of the car, The Most Venerable sat down in the lotus position and burnt himself to death to protest against the Ngo dinh Diem regime’s policies of discriminating against Buddhists and violating religious freedom.”

Unlike most Vietnamese, the dictator Diem wasn’t Buddhist, he was Catholic. But Catholics and Buddhists alike feared him, since he ruled South Vietnam with an iron fist. With Diem oppressing Buddhists, Thich Quang Duc and several other Vietnamese monks committed suicide in this way as an act of protest. In recent years, several Buddhist monks in Tibet have died in this shocking manner, as they protest against the Chinese government.

A rabbit sits underneath the old car

On the wall behind the car, is a copy of the famous photo of the monk’s death,  seen in newspapers around the world. Seated on a Saigon street, the dying monk is surrounded by gasoline fed flames. In the background behind him, is the car parked here in front of me. Witnesses said that as Thich Quang Duc was consumed by the flames, he never cried out at all. To prepare himself for this final ordeal, he had been meditating for weeks.

Fast forward to 1993, and a Vietnamese man killed himself in the same way near  this very pagoda. After he set himself on fire, he chanted the word, “Buddha”. Although the earlier monks who had died from self-immolation were protesting the government, it isn’t publicly known what the later immitator was protesting.

After this tragic incident, the communist government later responded in the same way that Diem’s dictatorship had before it. They arrested monks, even though this time the man who had killed himself wasn’t a monk. So much for freedom of religion granted in the current constitution.

Leaving the quiet pagoda, I walk down the steps of the nearby riverbank, and board a dragon boat that takes me back into Hue’s city center.
 
Shadows lengthen, and I take a late afternoon stroll. Walking past a bookstore, I remember Hue is a college town. I’m wondering how much censorship I will find when it comes to the written word, so I head inside.

Dinner drink. Hue Beer, in a Coke glass, in an 'Italian' restaurant?

It’s a modern looking bookstore, and I’m surprised to find that there are plenty of western books. The largest selection is for Vietnamese translations of software books for popular PC programs.

Given the country’s economic liberalization, there are also plenty of books lining the shelves related to business and capitalism. On the shelves are biographies of Andrew Carnegie, Henry Ford, and Bill Gates. There are no less than six books  written by, or about, Donald Trump. There's the self-help book, “7 Habits of Highly Effective People.” There’s no reactionary literature here, the only book related to politics is by Barack Obama.

After I grab some dinner, I head back down to the riverfront. Some street vendors are selling their wares, and have laid out war relic merchandise by the sidewalk. There are dog tags, pins, mess kits, and canteens. Just like I saw while shopping in Saigon-HCMC, most of what I see here are fakes.

One thing that isn’t fake, is an old concrete bunker that I approach. This pillbox shaped fortification was used during the war to guard this end of the

US military insignia and dog tags for sale; most are fakes

bridge. It’s present use is the oddest I’ve seen yet for an old military fortification. As I watch, a street vendor unlocks the bunker door, and carries several cages inside filled with live birds. This may not be a proper aviary, but for this street seller, it will do for pet bird storage.

The skies grow darker as I continue during my evening walk, and I get a better view of Trang Tien Bridge. It’s an older engineering style, with steel girders arching over each span like six great camel humps. Now that its night time, the bridge is lighted beautifully, and each section has separate lights that change colors. They go from purple, to blue, to green, to yellow, to white, and back to purple again. It creates a visual symphony of color.

Passing a university, I take a side path into a riverside park. It’s more of an art park really, with many sculptures of various styles. Thankfully, none of the sculptures are political for a change. Like the colored bridge, this is art for art’s sake.

Old military 'pillbox' bunker from the war years, used today for bird storage!

An occasional boat floats down the channel before me. It’s dark now, and this locale has a dreamy view of the riverside at night. As usual, young couples have gathered in the park, taking advantage of the romantic view. 

In the park the lighting is dim, but the opposite river bank is well lit with an arrangement of neon signs, some of them several stories tall. They are all for Vietnamese companies: Agribank, Co-op Mart, Kuda Beer and Viettel Mobile. I remember seeing communist party billboards in town, but they simply can’t compete with all of this bright capitalist neon.

I’m leaving this former capital soon, since I’ll be heading north to the former De-militarized Zone, but I’m wishing that I could stay here and enjoy the slow pace of Hue just a little while longer.

Hue has had a turbulent past, and endured destruction by the French, by the communists, and by the Americans. It has been rebuilt, and reborn as a city of art,  education, and culture. It has

Colorful incense for sale in Hue, used for Buddhist ceremonies

regained its position as one of Vietnam’s most beautiful cities. It’s a classical city at peace.



**NOTE** 

Links to more of my Hue stories and photos: 

RUINS OF BATTLE FOR HUE

FORBIDDEN CITY FOR KINGS

BUDDHIST FUNERAL AND THE DRAFT DODGERS

A Buddhist shrine has a revered place in the home

My Vietnamese translator Nga has invited me to her parent’s house for a memorial service, so I’m off to see the real life in the Mekong Delta, in a remote village. As I leave Can Tho town, on the back of a motorbike, we pass a few army installations and a naval base. Some of these used to be inhabited by the US military during the war. One of my older cousins served in the US Army here then, and I wonder which of these bases was his. He hardly left Can Tho though, except by aircraft. I’ve been seeing more of the Mekong Delta in one week (from ground level at least,) then my cousin was probably able to see in a year.

After a long rainy trip with a few wrong turns, we turn off the paved road onto narrow dirt roads. I can see why this territory was so difficult  for the US military to patrol years ago. This road isn't even wide enough for jeeps. Nga's village is so remote, it didn't see any action during the war. Now I understand why I couldn’t come in a taxi, as no vehicles larger than motorbikes can reach here.

Finally, we arrive at Nga's village, a small delta community of only 300 people. I size up the delta home where I’ll be spending the night, a simple white house with exterior pillars. The décor within has a woman’s touch. Furnishings are simple, and like most delta houses, there are no glass windows, or screening, fresh air flows throughout. Unfortunately, so do mosquitos. Malaria is still a problem in the delta, as can be seen from the mosquito nets hanging over all of the beds. I’m hoping I won’t get bitten while I’m here.

Reaching up from the floor, stains over a foot high mark the bottom of every wall in the house. “Years ago, it flood,” Nga informs me. The whole Mekong Delta is prone to flooding, so all the electrical outlets in the house are three feet off the floor. Since this home is made of brick and concrete, it will survive repeated floods, as opposed to the other delta houses made of wood or thatch.

Many delta homes still cook with charcoal

I’m introduced to Nga’s mother and relatives, and they make me feel right at home. Soon I’m feeling more relaxed. Since I’m far away from the hustle and bustle of Saigon,  the calm and quiet country life of the delta is rubbing off on me. Tomorrow is a busy day, and the family has a big memorial service planned. Nga shows me my bed, and I turn in early. After I tuck in the mosquito netting, I lay and listen to the buzzing and humming of the delta’s insects. It makes an appropriate lullaby, as I drift off to sleep.

The next morning I awaken to a busy house, as the family prepares for the memorial service visitors. Entering the kitchen, I find the women of the house busily cooking for the coming guests. Even though electricity arrived in the village a few years ago, Nga’s family still does all their cooking on a wood burning stove. Plumbing isn’t common yet either, as I see from the old farm style water pump out back.

In the living room atop a dresser, the family has a Buddhist shrine common to  Vietnamese homes. There are offerings left for departed spirits, including fruit and cups of tea. A bowl and urn are for burning incense. The most recent addition to the altar, is a photo of the departed family patriarch. Today’s memorial service is for Nga’s father, who died a month ago after a long illness at the age of 73.

The service isn’t starting for a couple of hours. Since I’m feeling rather useless around the house, I depart for a walk around the village. Heading along a canal in front of the house, I pass piers and wooden boats on the banks below. Some of these small boats are used for fishing, which was the former occupation of Nga’s father.

Children at recess at lively Mekong Delta school

Walking along the dirt path, I reach a recently built primary school. For many years, there was no school in Nga’s village at all. “I only go to school for four year, because of war,” Nga once told me. “I wanted go more.” With so much  conflict in the delta back then, the education of children suffered. The new village school is nothing fancy, but well attended. It’s recess time, and the children are outside playing in the dirt yard. Most of them have on blue and white uniforms, and play barefoot. A few of them see me passing, and they run to the fence. “Hello! Hello!” they call to me. My return hello brings giggles from the smiling students.

Rice paddies in the dry season. White monuments at left mark family graves.

I continue on the path leading out of the village, and soon I’m surrounded by green rice paddies. Off in the distance local farmers work their fertile land, which is the real treasure here. The Mekong Delta is well known for its bountiful rice crop. As rice is the staple food for the whole country, the delta is Vietnam’s giant rice bowl. In most of the country, Vietnam’s farmers take in two rice crops a year. Here in the delta, farmers get three. Vietnam is a major rice exporter these days. Since Vietnam returned to a market economy, the standard of living in the delta has improved over the years. Delta farmers earned enough profits to build better homes for their families. While some of Nga’s neighbors still live in corrugated metal shacks, more live in modern brick and cement houses with tiled rooftops. Thatched roof homes are now only a memory.

Canals run through the village

Having walked for a while, I decide I’d better turn back before I get lost. I arrive back at the house, and preparations are almost ready for the mourners to arrive. I look for Nga, and find her talking away on her cell phone. Even in this remote delta village, they still have cell phone coverage way out here. Cell phones are common in this remote delta community. This is amazing, considering that electricity arrived in this village only five years ago. Up to then they were still using oil lamps. Today there are plenty of poor rural Vietnamese families who don’t own a car, don’t own an electric stove, and don’t have hot water. But they own a mobile phone.

Stepping outside in the yard, workmen put the final touches on her fathers crypt. In rural Vietnam, it’s fairly common to bury relatives on family land, as they feel closer to their departed loved ones. Nga’s family isn’t rich by western standards, but this crypt is far more elaborate than those common to western cemeteries. The crypt’s shape follows the outline of a coffin, but the exterior design is more artistic than I’ve seen anywhere. Covered in painted tiles of various sizes, which are painted in pastel colors. Dragons are painted along the sides, with lotus flowers on top. As I watch the workmen install the finishing plaque which has not only the dates of his birth and death, but also has a photo of Nga’s father. 

I wonder why Americans never had this tradition. A photo of the dearly departed would add a more personal touch to any headstone. 

The mourners begin arriving, and Nga’s sister stays busy making iced coffee for everyone in the tree covered yard. The visitors include family, friends and neighbors. Since Nga’s father died on a Tuesday, they will host a gathering like this here at the house every Tuesday, for two months after his death.

As they walk in, they leave their conical hats near the gate, with their belongings placed inside. Most don brown Buddhist prayer robes, and many family members wear white headbands. Then everyone gathers at a table made into a temporary altar in the front yard. 

Prayers for the departed

Tablecloths and plastic sheeting are spread across the ground. They all remove their sandals, and step onto the groundcloths. Each takes incense between their praying hands, and the prayers begin. Incense fills the air. Since there isn’t a monk present, one attendee recites a prayer for all to hear. Then in unison, everyone does a series of standing bows, then kneeling bows, going all the way to the ground. 

With the prayers for the departed completed, they eat a light lunch. The mourners depart, and a new group arrives, and the whole process is repeated. I’m surprised to see that there are three waves of visitors, and the praying and eating continues well into the afternoon. With the last mourner’s arrival, more than 100 people have come to pay their respects today. With so many mourners coming, I tell Nga her father must have been a very popular man. Nga says that he was loved by many, but there's also another reason for the high turnout. 

Most of the community wear brown robes for this somber occasion

“It’s boring in the Mekong Delta,” she says. Apparently there are few social activities in these remote farming villages, so this service is the social highlight of the week. With the service over, the older men take seats at a table to eat. As they chat and socialize, I can see many of them are missing teeth. A few have ridden bicycles for four hours to come pay their respects, so they’re not in a hurry to leave. As I walk by the table, one of them takes me by the arm, and stands up next to me. Using his hand, he compares our height difference. I’m a full head taller than he is. I crouch down to match his height, and say to him, "Cam Sao" (no problem!) The whole table erupts in laughter.

Nga translates for me, and I’m told that I’m the first foreigner they’ve seen in this village in 20 years. I also learn that some of these men were Viet Cong in the war. I try to get some of them to talk about those years, but understandably, they turn quiet. One of them changes the subject, and says something that makes all the men laugh again. Once again everyone is at ease. I ask Nga what he said, and she replies, “he say you very handsome.”

Nga’s tiny CD player is playing Buddhist chant in the background, and some older villagers pick it up to examine it. They look at it very carefully, peering at all sides of it. I realize that they’ve never seen a music player like this before. If they’ve never seen a portable CD player, they would be truly amazed by an Ipod.

As the day becomes late, the crowd thins, and the mourners depart for home. One older mourner leaving manages to say a few words to me in English: “Thank you. Bye bye.”

The mourners depart for home, many by bicycle.

As he shakes my hand, I can’t help but notice that he’s missing half his right index finger. I’m guessing that he lost it in a farming accident, but I’m mistaken. Nga explains to me that the loss of his finger was intentional. “He cut it off,” she said, “so he don’t have to go in army.” Then Nga made the motion of a trigger finger, the finger that he no longer has. I'm shocked, and Nga tells me her uncle wasn’t the only visitor here today, that had gone to extremes to avoid the military.

“You see the man with the eye?” she asks. I nod yes, remembering another older guest who had a very milky looking eye. Back then, he had himself purposely blinded in that eye, also to avoid the draft. “If you go (went) in the army, you die,” she explained of the war years.

There were no easy paths for young Vietnamese men back in those days. I recall that back in America, there were also many young men who refused to fight in the Vietnam War. Their path was far different; American draft dodgers went to Canada. In this village, they cut off their trigger finger, or lost half their sight to avoid the draft. In Vietnam, draft dodging was done through self-mutilation.

Finally the last visitor departs. He mounts his bike, waves to me, then turns to peddle away down the dirt path. He has a long trip ahead of him. He’s wearing traditional clothes, and as I watch him ride away deeper into the Mekong Delta, I think he looks rather timeless, like a scene from decades long gone. As he rides off into the distance, I can’t remember if he was one of the former Viet Cong, or not. Then again, it doesn’t really matter anymore.

BUDDHIST HOSPITALITY IN A VIET CONG TEMPLE

A humble Buddhist temple in the Mekong Delta

It’s a peaceful evening, and I'm in one of those places I never expected to find myself. I’m up on a high hill, relaxing in a hammock, in a Buddhist temple complex.

I’m in the Mekong Delta border town of Chau Doc, and my friend Nga has brought me to this Buddhist temple, the smallest I’ve ever visited. It almost looks like more of a shrine. Although it has several altars, the whole temple is only as big as a two room house.

The temple is located high on a hill, in the border town of Chau Doc

Built in 1932, this minimalist temple is owned by a local Vietnamese family. Portrait photos of the owners in their senior years adorn the wall behind a shrine. Coming from a family of property, the father wears a bright blue, traditional silk outfit. He also has a big smile, which reveals he’s missing a few teeth. The mother on the other hand, looks stoic in her photo. She also has a shaved head. Perhaps she became a Buddhist nun later in life.

Years before, this married couple were both in the Viet Cong during the war, and this temple was a VC shelter. The family used to hide VC soldiers here. This was revealed to me by one of their sons, who was also a VC back then.

Behind a shrine are portraits of the owners, who are former Viet Cong

Looking at the temple, and at their families Buddhist beliefs, I’m reminded that not all Viet Cong were communists and atheists. Unlike the communist revolutionaries in China and Russia, many Viet Cong continued to practice their religion both during the war, and afterward. I’m also surprised that they would use a place of religious worship for a military purpose. Well, the VC family owned it, and still do.

“He my good friend,” Nga tells me of one of the Buddhist monks living up here now. She has known him for years, and wanted to come up for a  visit, so I tagged along. As I relax in the hammock, she chats away with her old friend, as he cooks us dinner in a cook shack adjacent to the temple.

Soon we’re enjoying a tasty dinner of fried rice. I’m aware that everything the monks need to live up here, including this rice, had to be carried up the mountain. Up here the temple sits alone, the rest of the high hillside is bare. There is no road reaching up to this temple, adding to the monks’ isolation. To be sure, the monastic life is not an easy one.

Our Buddhist monk hosts cook us a tasty fried rice dinner

As trying as life is up here, it used to be even more difficult for the monks. Nga relates one of the health hardships the monks faced in this temple. “For many years, everyone who tried to live up here,” she said, “they always get very sick.”

A series of monks lived at the temple, and for some reason they always became ill. One after another, they each had to leave the temple, descending into Chau Doc for treatment. The source of their illness was never understood.

Then one day a new monk moved in. “He saw big white snake,” Nga tells me. The monk saw the mysterious snake around the temple on a number of occasions, and took it for a sign.
Finally one day, the monk decided to speak to the snake. “He ask the snake if he could stay here,” Nga relays to me. The snake departed, and was never seen again. Since then, that monk has lived in this temple in good health, and still lives here to this day.

With our dinner over, and darkness surrounding the mountain, we say goodbye to our hospitable monk, and start our descent back into town. We make our way carefully down the steep path. With neither moonlight nor hand railings, it would be easy to fall in the dark. Fortunately I have a flashlight to show us the way. As we descend, I look down over Chau Doc. Few of the streets are lighted, and most of the town is enveloped in darkness. As I look beyond the town, there are even fewer lights. This darkened horizon to the west, is the land of Cambodia.

Night view of Chau Doc from the temple

For many that travel to Chau Doc, this town is their last stop on their way to the neighboring country. In fact, this border town is home to many ethnic Cambodians (Khmers). The next day as we drive out of town, I see many Khmers, easy to pick out with their red and white headscarves.

There was a time years ago, when Chau Doc and the entire Mekong Delta were part of the kingdom of Cambodia. There continues to be conflict and territorial disputes between Cambodia and Vietnam, as I’m about to see for myself. (Check this website soon for my next post...)