After what we both felt was an ‘average’ tourist experience in Halan Bay, Nancy and I returned to Hanoi for a night to rethink our plans for the rest of the week. It seemed crazy to fly or train overnight to Danang despite the many great things we’d heard about it - it seemed a long way to go for only two nights. Instead we focused on another place we’d heard wonderful things of, Nimh Binh - a short two hours away by car.
Our driver arrived early on Thursday morning - his name was Chuang and his English was limited to about three sentences, but he was an expert at using Google Translate. Nancy sat up front and they ‘technically’ talked all the way there. I relaxed in the back and thought about everything and nothing as the various scenes of rural Vietnam rushed by my window.
Stopping for a coffee along the way was a nice break, and we entered a very inviting cafe, with a large tourist focused shop behind it. Wandering about I noticed some exquisite embroidered pictures and was soon wandering about a display of these, encouraged by one of the staff to “look here… look here madam”. Finally I saw a team of six workers, all sat at a set of workstations, smiling and nodding at me. I looked closer and saw they were creating the images I’d been wandering around looking at. As I drew even closer I noted that each had a physical disablement that defied the extraordinary skills each had with their needles. They were children once who had been exposed to the deadly Agent Orange during the Vietnam war. This was how they supported themselves - by creating and selling these exquisite works of art. It was humbling to say the least. Like I had any reason not to bless the very air I was breathing, let alone ever dwell on minor challenges in my life. Jeez it was confronting! Quang was diligently working on a slight variation of the piece I purchased - how could I not?! - and paused for a photo. It takes two months to make each piece and the craftsmanship was simply beautiful. I bought the largest one I could reasonably fit into a suitcase and will treasure it always as much for the asthetics of it, as the powerful reminder of how blessed I truly am in this life.
On we went to Nimh Binh arriving at midday in a resort facility that featured vast rice fields with walkways and waterwheels for tourists to pause and have photos by. My room was on the second floor of one two story building looking over the fields while Nancy had one further along with an unusual indoor pool attached. Everywhere were lovely bridges, swings and lanterns over koi filled lily ponds. Truly a beautful place to rest for the two nights we were to be there.
The resort menu offered a range of one day tour options and Nancy and I agreed that the one that looked like the most fun of all was on a motorbike (with a quick lesson on how to drive it if needed) featuring rides through the rice fields, feeding buffalo, a cooking lesson, pagoda visits and more. Yes, this is it, we thought. I went to book it and the young man I spoke to looked at me - not really attempting to hide his thoughts - and said that one was booked out sorry.
“Oh, but… “ I was disappointed to be sure, but then had trouble understanding the other options which were all a full day, and a lot more expensive, or with groups of others and quite rigid in their itinerary. Finally the young man suggested we could hire a car and do a private tour option. I must have hesitated a little longer than he expected, because he finally suggested that we might be able to have a private tour with motorbikes, so long as we were not the ones driving them. A ha! It became quickly obvious that he’d thought from teh start that Nancy and I would not be up to such a thing. We discussed it the next day after we got to know each other a lot better and he agreed he’d been surprised we’d even want to do such a tour - apparently mostly the bike options were reserved for under 40 year olds and backpackers.
The next morning Tuan (pronounced Twin) greeted us at reception, and walked us over to the car park where he introduced our other driver Geng. Up we saddled and away we went, both men decidedly a little nervous about us and our motorbike abilities - as Tuan confessed later.
We started out going through a small village and stopped at a local market that was already closing up for the day, having started at just before 5am to serve the locals. Nothing much touristy about it at all, but it was a fascinating place to visit.
Dirty and dusty, some stalls were for the butchering of ducks and chicken meat, and others for red meat that I assumed was beef or buffalo but forgot to ask. Flies, open air, nothing like what you’d see outside of Asia, but no one was concerned about the hygenics. Another range of stalls were packed with vegetables, or herbs, and several were specifically selling the items that would be used for funerals.
These included things like plastic gold boots, masks, and wads of fake money - all gifts for the deceased to ensure they would be ok in their next life.
Of course, Reincarnation is a big deal in Vietnam. I learned later that day in conversation with Tuan that when someone dies, they are buried first (for five years) in the new part of a cemetary, before being re-buried in the ‘old’ part. This digging up and reburying is done at certain times of the month/year so as to ensure that the spirits are not ‘freaked out’ and become too unsettled. That way they can continue their journey to their next lives peacefully and find a good new life to enjoy.
From the market we proceeded out of town along very dirty tracks that the bikes could at times barely traverse. As we slowed to ‘walk the bikes’ past some muddy ditches in the track, Tuan asked me “Why did you want to be on motorbikes?"
“Because a car would never have brought us here and this is an exhilerating way to experience the countryside,” I replied, and then explained what ‘exhilerating’ meant. Tuan grinned back at me and I think at that moment we became friends.
Onwards we rode, finally stopping at the Pagoda.
Let me share the extraordinary visit at the top of the mountain, but first I must express my gratitude for the wonderful guide that Tuan turned out to be. Not all drivers and guides would take the time to sit and talk the way we did…
We started out crossing a bridge and reaching the newly rebuilt pagoda in the courtyard at the base of the mountain. When I say mountain, more like a very high hilltop made of limestone, most of the caves and temple areas were dug well into this towering rock and while Nancy opted to wait behind in the lower level gardens, I followed Tuan up the many stairs and through several caves. A handful of tourists coming back down the paths smiled as we passed them, and onwards we trekked.
An ancient bell hung from a towering rocky ceiling, then around another corner was a Bhudda covered in offerings, then yet another set of stairs to climb. Finally we reached the top. A group of 12 elderly Japanese men waited at the top and one held out his hand in welcome or to congralate me on the achievement of reaching this point, I’m unsure, but he insisted on taking my photo, and then severl of his friends wanted their photos with me too. Talk about making a girl feel special.
They left and I wandered about, Tuan explaining that the Bhudda in the enclosed pagoda was in fact the Lady Bhudda.
The story goes that when the Bhudda was aging he needed help because his eyes were failing and his hands were weary, so he asked the king for his daughter to step into the role of assisting him. She diligently did this until the old man finally died many years later and by then she too was much older. She was then named the Lady Bhudda and this shrine was built to honour her. Standing guard were two gods - one of the River and one of the Earth.
It was a beautiful peaceful place, overlooking the fields far below in the valley.
I noticed everyone had gone and I wandered about for a few minutes enjoying the feel of the place, said a quiet prayer of gratitude and started towards the steps where I found Tuan sitting at the top enjoying a cigarette. He made to stand up and leave with me, and I instead waved at him to stay for a minute and sat down beside him on that step.
We started talking about many things then, just the two of us. Religion, philosophy, love, people, intolerance, generational things, cultural differences… we packed a LOT into what may have been five or even twenty minutes. I could not tell you the exact converations, but it was like the Lady Bhudda herself sanctioned the moments. We talked about very deep things as though we had known each other for many years, instead of only an hour, and covered a lot of understandings between us. It was one of the highlights of my time in Vietnam.
Finally three more tourists came into view and we stood up to begin our descent back to the valley below.
