It was a lovely day when I woke up for the My Son tour, but it soon became less than perfect. In the three days I have been in Vietnam I have learned that buses are always at least ten minutes late. So when I had five minutes until my scheduled departure, I figured it was plenty of time to go next door for a bowl of noodles. When my bus came two minutes early, the driver kindly said he would come back for me in ten minutes after he picked up the other people.
The weather suddenly took a turn for the hottest I have probably ever experienced. Even with airconditioning, being on the sunny side of the bus was painful. We arrived at My Son, where I am sure the driver overcharged everyone by 10.000 dong (75 cents) to go buy our tickets.
My Son is the ruins of the Champa empire’s main place of worship. At the time of building this great temple complex they were greatly under the influence of Hinduism, so many of the reliefs depict Hindu deities, particularly the linga and yoni pairs. These ruins were only rediscovered a hundred years ago, having been forgotten and consumed by the forest. Unfortunately, most of the temples were destroyed by bombing in the war, and now none of the towers stand. I had seen similar temple ruins in Thailand, and was therefore a little disappointed with My Son. I imagine the people who had been to Angkor Wat would have thought it was nothing special.
What particularly left an impression on me with My Son and the bus ride from Hoi An to Hue was the large number of bomb craters left as they were. On the path back to the bus from My Son I passed no fewer than ten craters in twenty minutes. Rice fields too were often left marred.
My last minutes in Hoi An were frenzied. I went back to the tailor shop to try on my clothes for the second time. They were still a bit tight, especially the pants. I don’t know why they couldn’t understand that I have massive quads from riding my bike everywhere and cut the pants accordingly. Thirty minutes later they had made them a little loser, but still not to my liking. Unfortunately, my bus for Hue left in fifteen minutes, and I had no choice but to pay for my slightly tight fitting clothing and leave. I did complain and they gave me a small discount, but we’ll just have to hope that my body is swelling in the heat now, and will shrink to a size comfortable in the clothing when I get back to a cooler climate.
The bus ride to Hue was very nice. We passed through green rice fields dotted with straw hats and water buffalo. We climbed a few mountains and took a rest stop in a valley with a calm lake. What I noticed most was the architecture of the houses. They are all long and narrow, the narrowest part being the front side, for the most part. I had expected something like this in the city, but it was true even in the countryside. The front is taken up almost entirely by large doors, which are most often left wide open allowing a view right into the living room. The outside paint is always bright - yellow, aquamarine, light green, or even red. It gives the landscape a happy feeling.
I finally made it to Hue and wandered around before finding a hotel I liked. I figure that since it is my last big vacation, I can afford to pay the extra two dollars to get air-conditioning, a hot shower, and a TV. Especially in this heat. I walked up and down the street reading dinner menus, and finally settled on a family run place that had the cheapest beer on the street. We mangled communication when I tried to ask what exactly “Country Pancake” and “Bloated Ferns” were, but in the end I ordered both of them just for the heck of it.
“Country Pancake” - A round piece of bread (like a thick tortilla) fried and stuffed with bean sprouts, meat, eggs, and other stuff. You then dip this in a thick meat sauce. Delicious.
“Bloated Ferns” - I have no idea. Some sort of opaque gelatin thing served in spoon sized dishes, topped with something orange and something that looks like a bugle snack. I’m glad I tasted it, but I wouldn’t order it again.
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