Da Nang, Vietnam
Twenty Seven Years Later
Whoever thought I’d go to Vietnam? Not me! I never even wanted to go.
But there I was heading toward a country that still brings bitter reminders of tragedy and divisiveness to many American families.
But my visit to Da Nang proved that with the passage of time, people do change. We landed in Da Nang early in the morning of Thursday, February 22. The tour director aboard the R2 had told us that there wasn’t much to do in the city, and we had decided to go our own way to explore this tiny bit of the central coast of Vietnam.
We joined forces with several good buddies from Ocean Explorer days, and at 8 a.m. on the dock our compatriot David bargained with a van driver to take us out of the city, down the coast to Hoy An, out to China Beach, and if we had time, to the Marble Mountains, a series of five beautiful marble peaks named for the five basic elements of Chinese philosophy—earth, water, fire, wood and metal and from which many varieties of beautiful marble are excavated.
With assurances that the entire day would cost just $20 apiece, we were elated at the bargain! We boarded the van, accompanied by Le, a 23-old lovely Vietnamese girl as our tour guide. (We found out later this was her first tour group, and sometimes was difficult to understand. But she tried hard to please and we in turn found her very sweet natured and eager to accommodate us —as was everyone else we met on this very interesting visit to Vietnam.)
Traveling mile after mile through the narrow streets of Da Nang, lined with tiny stalls filled with a multitude of merchandize, we wondered could buy it all. But the economy seemed to be thriving. Finally, we emerged into the countryside dotted with small villages, forests, and farmland. Our all-knowing driver (like many others on our shore excursions around the world) delivered us to the Marble Factory for a “shopping stop.” We weren’t too eager to stop there, but out of deference to him, decided just 10 minutes would be sufficient. Little did we know how interesting this marble craftsmens’ workplace would be—or how much it would cost David and Donna!
The marble from Marble Mountain was beautiful---cream color, pink, pale green fading into yellow—and patient men pounded away with extraordinarily delicate touch, working picks and hammer in careful movements to carve extraordinary works of buddhas, animals, religious statues, boxes, and other imaginative pieces from the solid blocks of stone. And David was an eager shopper. He actually bought a beautifully polished six-foot female buddha and had it shipped to Colorado to his home!
Then it was on to Hoy An, 17 miles south of Da Nang. There, we found ourselves in what is called one of the most delightful villages of Viet Nam, an historic preservation kind of site. But to see it you have to walk through the village; no vehicles except motor bikes, bicycles, or pedibikes are allowed. One of our group, Donna, had tripped and fallen getting off the Star Ferry two days before and had injured her foot severely. It was swollen and wrapped in bandages and she was walking with a cane. But off she went bravely walking the entire way with us. We passed through narrow winding crowded streets lined with souvenir stalls, rice paper paintings of local artists, vendors selling food and drink, other vendors hawking their marble wares, and tailors eager to make you a dress in a day. Back to that in a minute.
To visit Hoy An is a step back in time. The village is a living monument to life in Viet Nam over a hundred years ago. Ships came to this trading center from all over the world bringing merchants in search of silk, porcelain, lacquer and medicinal herbs. We saw many traces of this rich trading life of several centuries ago in this village where remnants Japanese, Chinese and Vietnamese architectural styles and cultures are preserved.. In the Old House of Phung Hung, we took off our shoes and walked through rooms where eight generations, including the current one, had lived. We hung on tightly to climb up a narrow staircase and were fascinated by the relics of another age this family had retained—Portuguese pottery from a shipwreck of several hundred years ago, Chinese bowls, beautiful wood carvings, porcelain jars and simple eating utensils—the current Hung family live in this three story, tiny atrium house much as their ancestors of several hundred years ago lived. The Hung daughter explained to us how sections of the house related to their hopes for longevity, prosperity and happiness. In the quietness of the tiny atrium, where pond and water plants thrived, we could almost picture ourselves back five hundred years eating from the 600year-dishes on the table nearby.
It was hot in Hoy An, but we tramped through several miles of the village, entering temples and “assembly halls” where Chinese merchants do their business, and crossing over the Japanese covered bridges. We were approached by hordes young children seeking “coin, mister?” and selling bird whistles, post cards, watches, and everything else you can imagine. The sound of “One Dollah,” common to us in Java, Bali and other parts of the world, followed us everywhere in this country too, and this phrase must be universal language.
Also, a number of young people greeted us with the phrase “totally awesome.”
Which describes the actions of one of our “gang” waiting for us back at the van. Nancy had decided not to go on our walking tour but chose to ride a pedicycle on her own private tour. When we returned hot and tired, she was waiting for us.---and told us somewhat sheepishly that in a moment of weakness she had paid “five dollah” as down payment on a $15 dress a woman in the nearby shop promised to make for her in two hours. The dressmaker assured Nancy she could have the dress done when we got back to the ship, and since we were leaving the port in Da Nang at 5 p.m. she would deliver it to the ship -- many miles away -- at 4 p.m. We all hooted when Nancy told us this story, laughing that she had been taken in by a scam. Then on we went to China Beach.
China Beach was the R & R location for our military during the Vietnam War, and was the title of a TV series, my colleagues told me. It turned out to be a beautiful spot with clear water, gentle waves, fine sand, and palm trees lining the shore. We had a wonderful outdoor lunch on a terrace of a restaurant at a resort, sharing many Vietnamese dishes and washing lunch down with beer. Then we rolled up our pant legs and waded in the surf. It was a lovely, relaxing moment, filled with stories of OE1, jokes and laughter of our very compatible group. Jackie, my former roommate at Iguazu Falls; Roy, with whom I had toured for a day in Bali; David and Donna, friends from the Ocean Explorer, with whom Jackie had traveled down the Colorado River; Nancy, whom we knew as one of the funniest ladies on the Ocean Explorer, Vi and I made up this group of individualists. You couldn’t get a word in edgewise once this day got underway!
Piling back into the van, we made our way back to Da Nang with time to explore the city before embarking in the late afternoon. I wanted to ride a pedicycle---to see the old town in comfort. Vi went with me. I bargained an hour’s trip down to $3 and off I went followed by Vi with her own pedicycle driver. How can I describe the fun we had? My Vietnamese peddler turned out to speak better English than anyone we had met that day, and he insisted on stopping and walking us through the old market---with stops at every vegetable and fruit and fish stall to explain the names of mysterious products I had never before seen.
We laughed and joked-- and screamed more than once when motor scooters careening down the streets headed at us. I was sure we’d be hit, but my driver said he’d take good care of me, and he did. The final surprise of this delightful side trip took place as we said goodbye. He gave me a rose, and presented me with his card. Imagine my surprise when I saw his hotmail address. He said, “How about scanning one of your pictures onto hotmail and sending it to me when you get back?” I was totally caught off guard by his sophistication, but I should have known better. So his photo (with me) will be on its way to him via hotmail as soon as I get home. (He also bargained a stall vendor down significantly so that I could buy a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label. ) But that’s another story.
The end of the day came all too soon, and we were back on board the R2, tired, hot, but totally exhilarated by this quick visit to a country that I never dreamed would be so interesting.
