A view of  Danang Beach   A boat as a home     A burning urn in a temple   Dragons guading palace

Aug. 3, 1998 Danang & Hue   After an all day traveling, we arrived at Danang after the hour last night.  This morning me, Tho, his father and stepmother gathered by a sidewalk cafe across from our hotel.  We drank these tiny espresso mixed with condense milk.  It was impossible to find a nice jug of joe here.  All coffee were rich and thick like crude oil.     The first place we came to visit was a range of five mountains named after five elements of the universe: Thuy Son (water mountain), Moc son (wood mountain), Hoa Son (fire mountain), Kim Son (metal mountain) and Tho Son (earth mountain). These marble mountains housed some of the most incredible caverns and vista points.  The main cavern has an opening up top shining just enough light to reveal those mystical figures and deities that had been there from past generations.  This chamber was used as a field hospital by the communist force during the war.     I felt like an Asian Indiana Jones walking through the dark tunnel leading into the cave.  Up top, there was a chair carved out of stone for an emperor's vista point when he felt a need to be inspired.  Nearby a Buddhist's chant echoed loudly through the speakers.  I climbed to a beautiful view looking out to the South China Sea and the famous China Beach where we made a brief visit later.  Danang was famous for its beautiful scenery but also known as the place where most of the heavy fighting occured during the war. Incidentally, it was also a birthplace of several famous warriors.  I could see that in people's expression here, hardly any smile.    We left Danang for Hue after lunch.   The main stretch of the distance was the Hai Van pass.  Hai Van pass is known to be the graveyard of faulty vehicles.  Although this pass is only 20 km long, its sharp turns and steep slopes had put many unreliable cars to rest.  Especially during the cold season, the cloud which covered most of the pass after the first part of the morning turned visibility into near impossible.  I heard about the danger of this pass.  Our shark climbed the hill like a seasoned hiker.  Passing crawling big trucks, it reached the top in less than one hour.    At the peak, we stopped for a glimpse of the magnificient view. An old watch tower lurked solemnly like an old tombstone.  Hawkers packed this area like sunbathing sea lions on a desirable rock off the California coast.  Except that these young kids weren't here to sunbathe but to make a buck selling postcard, chewing gum, cigarette, French piaster even American quarter.  A kid tried to sell me a quarter for 2000 dong.  Another threw a pack of postcard onto my lap through the window after I profusely shook my head.   Finally, I budged handling 7000 dong to her for the same landscape photos I could have snapped myself.    We finally rolled on to Hue.  The bus rolled to a old French style hotel by the Perfume river where the driver unloaded everyone at Hung Vuong Hotel.  It was named after a famous emperor.  The place was an old French style building with a few rooms.  The rooms were simple and decorated with nice teak wood furnitures.   We all dispersed into our rooms.  I immediately hopped into the shower since I have to be somewhere during this time.    Walking out the hotel into the sweltering heat, I stopped by the photo place next door for direction.  The shop owner showed me how to get to my destination, Phu Cam Church where my uncle was buried.  My uncle was a Roman Catholic archbishop of this whole district for a long time.  He was a well respected figure in the region.  After 1975, he stood up against the communist government by backing up the Buddhist leaders who were put on trail at the time. His reason was freedom of religion.  After that incident, the authority detained and put him in house arrest.  He remained in the church until 1988, when he got permission to leave the country for medical reason.  In Saigon, while sitting on a hospital bed, he received a telegram from Rome allowing him to come.  While reading the telegram his excitement overcame him.  He dropped dead with a heart attack, so they said.  In his will which hung in a glass case in the church, my uncle stated that he desired to be buried inside this church.    I looked around for the tomb but couldn't find it.  I went outside and asked a neighbor.  He told me that it laid right where I stood.  I entered the church again and look on the ground, a black square of black marble with my uncle's name engraved on a lower right hand corner.   Sweat started to drip from my arm like a block of ice in an oven.  I crossed my self, dropped a few thousand dong in the donation box then left.  As I walked back on a street lined with tall tamarind trees, I was glad I didn't have to face him. I wouldn't know what to say if he would ask me: "Have you gone to church lately?"  You don't lie to a priest because you may end up making a confession to that same person later.    When I returned to the hotel, my companions were outside getting ready for dinner.  This time we didn't have to climb into our shark, the restaurant was in the court yard a few steps away.  We sat down at a long table with the whole entourage.  Tho's step mother, a strict vegetarian, surprisingly got her food first unlike other times when she had to walk into the kitchen and screamed at the chef, "Do you want me to choke to death when I try to hurry swallowing my food since I'm the last one who gets it?  We have to be somewhere and they're not going to wait for me taking my time chewing."  Although she proclaimed as a deeply religious person, she wasn't shy of screaming at people.  I laughed at her because after each action, even in a tirade, she followed with a hearty grin as if she was kidding.     After dinner, we went to the Perfume river for entertainment.  This river was named Perfume because of the chrysanthemum aroma that pervaded the area.  We got onto a boat that was painted with dragon images on the sides.  An arched roof made up the shelter in the middle section.  The back was where the pilot cabin and the engine located.  A pair of venetian doors separated the two rooms.  When the audience were settled in, the artists made their entrance.  This group was made of three females and two males.  The ladies wore hand-stitched ao dai, the guys donned dress shirts and pants.  Only the two males played the instruments except for occasional percussion sticks passed around by different women.     A woman began her introduction.  She talked in a Hue accent, a unique, rich and heavy tone. After her intro, they inquired for a translator for those who didn't understand Vietnamese.  We all looked around and it came to a consensus that I was the most capable of doing the job.  I asked the blond guy who sat next to his female Vietnamese companion across from me if he needed to hear the intro in English.  He shook his head negatively.  The only person left that needed translation was the French speaking kid from our group.  The only problem was I didn't remember a thing that band leader said.  Well, I started to babble in English fast.  The kid pondered.  We looked at his mother and she agreeed to explain to him later.  Problem solved.    The music was a cross between humming, yodeling and stretching sad ballad, sometimes a melodic rap.  The fluorescent light and the whining sound of the song drifted me far away.  During this whole trip, this was the only time that I can reflect on where I am.  I thought about the hustling Saigon, the distance I traveled, my job of which I was glad to take a temporary leave,  the people I've met, my family, my relatives and my friends.  I thought about how this trip has gone so smoothly and how great of a time I had this past year.  I thought about the freedom that I practiced extensively which enabled my happiness.    All the experiences I had in this country, the mixture of aroma, stench, bitterness, sweetness, sour, salty, heat, moisture, comfort, enrage, shock, surprise, ponder, satisfaction, rejection, acceptance, offering, refusal, contend, disillusion, sympathy, empathy, excitement, displacement, exhaustion, empowerment, liberation.... the list goes on, added a new emphasis on the word human experiences.  Interaction has a new meaning.  It wasn't about sitting remotely somewhere by yourself pushing some  buttons trying to create an experience.  Interaction was reacting to the actions that encounter you.     I looked up to the bridge we were passing under and remembered the words my cyclo driver told me earlier.  It was where lots of people had come to commit suicide.  Here people dove into the river when they want to end it all.  What was their last thought when they make that jump ?  I was ironic that I reflected on my experiences as I came through this spot. It made me think about how people's lives passed in front of their eyes before they died.  Why can't it happen in a regular circumstance? It would be benificial as one gets to have a good perspective of life.   On the way back to the hotel, the ladies complained about the music.  They haven't heard of punk rock.  I didn't feel tire  so I decided to go across the street and have a beer at the brightly lit cafe.  This storefront joint, blockaded with a platoon of white plastic lawn-chairs and tables, spreaded out to the sidewalk.  It was ran by a nice looking, constantly smiling lady.  She and her daughter (I believed), jumped out of their chairs, frantically waving and inviting passing foreigners every time they saw one.  Even advertisement was spontaneous in this country.    Her daughter kept speaking English to me even though I responded in Vietnamese.   Every time a guy customer left, they would slap him on the back as if to say "come back now you hear ?"    I sipped a cold can of "333" beer reading my "Fielding Guide" and listening to two French guys' conversation.  Across the street, the hotel security started to close the gate.  I hurriedly paid my bill and ran back to the hotel.  I didn't think sleeping under the bridge was idealistic here.