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Perfume River tombs and hospitality in Hue, Vietnam
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Royal Nguyen tomb statue near Hue, Vietnam.
Photo by Molly McCahan.
After enduring a rather uneventful yet jolting 13-hour overnight train from Hanoi, we arrived in the sleepy town of Hue to a throng of touts. Having been tipped off before boarding the night previous to a bargain guesthouse not far from the station, we immediately sought out a cab to deliver us there. Every organ in my body felt as if it had shifted a few inches the wrong way.
This unassuming town in central Vietnam was merely a stopover point on our journey to the lovely coastal hamlet of Hoi An. We planned to spend a day exploring what little we thought Hue had to offer, get a peaceful night’s rest, and catch an early morning bus to the coast. But Hue would soon reveal a troubled past that left us wondering if perhaps there weren’t more to this city, a mystery we certainly couldn’t even begin to uncover in the coming 24 hours.
In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Hue served as the capital of the Nguyen Dynasty, the last family to rule Vietnam before war and communism wreaked havoc on the country. As such, the city was home to some impressive monuments and architecture. Sadly Hue was bombed heavily during the Vietnam War - much of it by American forces - and particularly ravaged during the Tet Offensive of 1968. As a result, many of these marvelous buildings are no longer.
But there’s hope. A number of Hue’s surviving structures have been listed as UNESCO World Heritage Sites, and efforts are underway to restore them to their former glory. Hue’s crumbling citadel, where the emperors ruled, is worthy of a visit, as are several sites farther outside town. To reach the latter, most tourists take to the water.
Young boys play soccer outside Hue’s citadel.
Photo by Molly McCahan.
Earlier in the day we'd boarded a private boat piloted by a Vietnamese man, his wife, and their adorable young daughter. Breakfast had led us to this family. Over a simple but filling plate of Western-style eggs, we chatted with Mr. Cu, who owns and operates a popular coffee shop of sorts in downtown Hue. He can arrange just about anything for a visit here, which is how we met up with our family for the boat tour.
Mr. Cu’s cafe is plastered with old images of the war, along with much of his own work. He‘s an accomplished photographer, in addition to being a friendly businessman catering to foreigners. “That bridge right there,” he told us, pointing to a faded photo of an American soldier trudging through the river, “was destroyed during the war.” His words would come to haunt us later that evening on our way to dinner as we crossed a clearly rebuilt version of the span to which he’d referred.
Mr. Cu also told us that only several hours away from Hue, we'd find the infamous DMZ, a site of major conflict between U.S. and Vietcong forces. In keeping with the theme of war, we would pass through Da Nang the next day. The city’s stunning coastal views would be tainted by tin shacks, unpaved roads, and decrepit moss-covered brick buildings. Da Nang housed a major air base during the war, and the part of town we would see from the grimy window of our bus would appear not to have been refurbished since.
Thanks to Mr. Cu’s help, we enjoyed a wonderful afternoon touring several of the old royal Nguyen tombs along the Perfume River (called the Huong in Vietnamese), as well as a visit to the seven-story Thien Mu Pagoda. Our private tour cost all of $10 USD, a bargain for an entire day of exploration. The tour didn’t go exactly as we envisioned, by any means. Few adventure travel experiences live up to our glorified expectations, but that‘s what makes them exciting.
Thien Mu Pagoda near Hue.
Photo by Molly McCahan.
At times we had to endure the little girl’s tantrums, as well as her mother’s desperate attempts to sell us everything from cheap wooden Buddhas to a new pair of men’s Nike pants. (Where she acquired these goods was beyond us.) When we politely but firmly made it clear that we weren‘t there to shop, mom shunned us for the rest of the trip, and dad flashed us dirty looks. As a result, we worried that perhaps the family would ditch us out of spite every time we disembarked to explore another site. But true to the Vietnamese hospitality that’s endured despite years of hardship, they were all waiting for us whenever we returned. We felt a tinge of guilt for doubting their allegiance.
While shy at first, the little girl became smitten with us. By the end of the day she was lounging comfortably in my lap as we motored along in the shadow of hundreds of tombstones watching us from the hillsides. More reminders of the war, and a common site in this country.
Upon returning to the city, we struck out in search of libations and stumbled upon a cafe run by a deaf-mute family. The woman waiting on us delivered our two locally brewed Hudas and proceeded to pop the tops off with a crude bottle opener. It was crafted from a scrap of wood with a few screws fastened in strategic places. David and I worked our way into child-sized plastic chairs - a Vietnamese standard - and wiled away a good hour just watching life pass by on the streets of Hue.
Three beers and a big plate of fried spring rolls later, our bill came to a whopping $2.00 USD. We tipped the owner 8,000 Dong - about 50 cents - and the huge grin on his face was priceless. As a thank-you, he proudly presented us with our very own makeshift bottle opener. On one side written in red marker was the name of the restaurant. We smiled as the man motioned for us to flip over the souvenir. On the other side he'd written the day's date and "Hue, Vietnam" in the same red ink. While we couldn’t communicate in words with any of our hosts, we all seemed to share a common understanding of conviviality. We shook the owner’s hand, waved goodbye to the rest of the family, and headed back to our guesthouse, grateful for our personalized gift.
Throughout our 15 days in Vietnam, we were reminded repeatedly of the war. To this day, those recollections still prove troubling. But don’t let that deter you from a visit. As we learned during our all-too-brief stay, a lot of bad things happened in this country some 30+ years ago. But you’d never know it judging by the kindness of the locals. Hue, like many places in Vietnam, seems to be a city of survivors.
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