Cards, destruction and hearts....

After the grueling night in the train, spending the last hour watching the unmistakable Asian architecture and very full rice-fields, I could not hide my delight at getting out of this contraption and into the nearest shower. After a quick bus ride to our hotel and a welcoming drink from the staff while watching the preparations for an upcoming wedding at the very same hotel in Hue, we went for a much deserved breakfast down the road from the hotel. Again, the appearance of some westerners must have sounded a secret alarm somewhere in the city as young women and a middle aged man approached us before we could set feet onto the sidewalk. The women were transporting all types of hand-made cards on a large cardboard like surface in a perfect balancing act. The man was selling his own paintings, displaying his work in a flip file of sorts and quickly paging through all of them to increased his chances at selling even just a single painting for the day. Here in Hue however, the smiles didn't last long and the eager locals seemed almost aggressive in their will to sell. The atmosphere was different from Hanoi where the vendors all had heart-felt smiles on their faces and a simple "no, thank you" sufficed to convey our disinterest in buying their products. On entering, you could immediately see the international influence in the restaurant. A beautiful blend of western and eastern pieces as well as foods.
Where the tour had focused on nature and culture until now, we were about to discover the wounds, weapons and sheer grit of this beautiful country.
We arrived at the Citadel on the back of the infamous scooters we've been admiring from far.
Immediately the weight of authority and awe was visible from the crossing of the bridge leading to the entrance of the citadel. The Citadel was a place of ruling and residence for the royal families and their servants (read concubines and eunuchs and military personnel) over centuries. The citadel comprised of several layers, each consecutive deeper layer allowing access only to the higher ranking servants. Unfortunately most of the grounds were destroyed by the bombings during the endless war and together with that most of the original buildings and features. Remaining walls still show the scrapes made by the tanks when the gate was stormed, the bullet holes from the heavy artillery. Except..... the library remained intact. What an incredible legacy to have. The patterns of birds, dragons, turtles all created with the best quality porcelain pieces shipped in from neighboring countries. The beautiful wood work and carved stone pieces all carrying unique significance including prosperity, strength, peace.
The government has allocated a very large sum of money to rebuild this historical monument using the exact same building techniques and materials as far as they are available.
The destruction of the Citadel wasn't the only symptom of war. You see; the broken walls and vanished buildings were all mirrored in the Vietnamese people's lives. The eyes of our local guide jumped from grateful to grief to regret and back to grateful while telling the story of his people and the effects the war had on his family. There was loss, suffering, famine, victory and reconciliation.
The very last Emperor abdicated his throne of his own volition, saying that Vietnam is a free country and that he would be more than happy to work as hard as his fellow country men for a good life. Some of his children are still alive and the last concubine passed away last year.
After this download of information and probably misanalysis of the stories and facts given to us we proceeded to visit one of the Pagoda's ( Buddhist temple).
The doof doof pub music blaring at us, from a neighbouring night club, while walking through the entrance of the Pagoda seemed almost out of place, if not downright disrespectful to the grounds we were entering. Lotus flowers (we learned are a symbol of Buddhism) lining the tarred pathway to the beautifully serene garden area and eventually the temple itself.
While some of us removed our shoes and went into the temple to see what the place of worship looked like, my mother was sitting outside contemplating the idea of having your place of worship and prayer disturbed by tourists. I had to giggle picturing the scene of tourists the entering our church service and staring at us during the proceedings and taking pictures of all they deem interesting. I had to agree with my mum on this one. It seemed disruptive and inconsiderate towards the believers to be gawking a their place of worship.
The tour guide then approached the display of a blue car and started telling the story that most of us would have heard of from our social platforms. A buddhist Monk drove himself to a large intersection and set himself alight in Saigon on 11 June 1963. This display was in protest to the discrimination of Buddhism in Vietnam. He chose that specific place as it was directly in the line of sight of the Cambodian embassy, who at that time supported the suppression of Buddhism in favour of the Catholic church. It is said that during the entire time before he collapsed, he didn't utter a single sound. After the event, the incinerated remains of his body were gathered and the people noticed that his heart was completely intact. This event carries a lot of meaning for Buddhist followers (who comprise 70% of the population today) and is by any standards an incredible sign of self-restraint and sacrifice for personal beliefs.
This begs the question: at this moment and in this season of my life, is there anything in my life that I inherently believe in so deeply that it would drive me to such a display of surrender?Læs mere