Vignettes of the World
Spring is here in Hong Kong and I seize every chance I can to hike, for when summer comes it will be too hot to do so. This day I chose the Lau Shui Heung Country Trail in Fanling, in northern New Territories. Lau Shui …
When I was young, my grandmother would bring me fruits of the Chinse wampi. “It’s from Tsung Pak Long,” she would say. The sourness of this fruit left a bitter impression. As such, since a young age I have learned not to eat it. But …
We asked for a ride to Ba Na Hills. When we arrived at Ba Na Hills 20 minutes later, only then did we realize that we joined a tour. They tour guide advised us to stick with the tour group until it ended at 3:30. That was not our intention, as we would have liked to take our time there, but so be it.
Reviews of Ba Na Hills on Tripadvisor were half-good and half-bad. I debated and debated but decided to go. It was mainly because, as a former French resort, it does have an interesting history. The French colonists started this hill station in 1919, probably intending it to be an escape from the heat of Vietnam. Of the original French villas there, only a few ruins remain.
All things old are interesting to me, no matter how modern the people dress them up to be in order to attract tourists.
To be fair, Ba Na Hills was a pleasant surprise. The 5km-long cable car ride was scary, and thus very good. It first took us to the first level. We went through some carefully-landscaped and well-tended French gardens, Le Jardin D’amour. We had a nice stroll in the gardens.
Then we sort of detoured and went way passed the temple to a vista point. There was no one there, despite the crowd in the temple area. We were so close to the clear blue sky, as if we could grab the fresh mountainous air with our hands. This temporary seclusion was heavenly.
We missed the 19th century cellar though. It was time to go up to the next level, where the fantasy park was. I thought it would not be interesting, but the second level surprised me too. There we saw the 19th century French Cathedral. Really that alone worthed all the money that we paid to get in Ba Na Hills. Besides the Cathedral, we could not tell which buildings in the French village were original. The atmosphere there was carefully constructed to give a European vibe. It worked, really.
According to the Lonely Planet, until WWII the French were “carried up the last 20km of rough mountain road by sedan chair.” The resort as it was restored certainly conveyed the once-luxurious past. The restoration was purely commercial in purpose, as the buildings host restaurants and hotels now. Certainly, there was a bustling life in the French village.
Having passed the French town, we came to a group of exclusively Asian-themed structures. I liked the secular, zen-themed tea house the most. It did feel like entering a whole different world altogether. The scent of floral fragrance at the entrance seemed to signal to us another sense of being: calm, natural, minimalist, unlike the elaborate effort to “make it French” just a while back.
For lunch, we sat down for a simple pastry and coffee. It was very good.
What probably impressed me the most at Ba Na Hills was the constant interaction with nature. Many tourist advisories said that one must bring a light windbreaker. Surely, the French did choose a very cool location as a resort. The weather there was one minute sunny and another foggy. The weather was surreal. I would notice a descent of a foggy mist, so thorough and in such uniform fashion that it could have come from man-made dispenser tubes. But it came and disappeared. Then it came again. Only then did I accept that it was mother nature working there. I have never seen nature acting that way.
Just a side note for the sake of amusement. My companion on this trip happened to be a handsome young man. During our tour in Ba Na Hills some people said that I was his mother. The truth is I was older than him by 5.5 years.
I could not have looked so old as to be his mother now. But this curiosity into our relationship (there was none) was to be very annoying to me for days to come.
The tour concluded and we asked to get off at the Danang Cathedral, famous for its salmon pink appearance. From there we took a walk around the city. We visited the Cao Dai Temple, then the Phap Lam Pagoda. The Cao Dai Temple was small, and the Phap Lam Pagoda was even less interesting.
As we walked within the city, I noticed that the common people’s life in Danang was very similar to those living in Ho Chi Minh City. The living rooms of their houses were semi-open in the ground floor. The community life was half-way in the home and half-way on the streets, with constant interactions amongst neighbors. They knew that we were tourists, and the curiosity was mutual. For this was a part of town that did not see much of tourists. Some children climbed up the semi-roof to retrieve a slipper. People were relieved when they did find the slipper. There, the humor was in the air. I laughed as the children did.
In passing by these living quarters I noticed that the Vietnamese people tended to keep dogs more so than cats. They also preferred small dogs, it seemed to me. I am quite sure that dog-loving is a part of Vietnamese culture.
Dinner was at Pho Viet Kieu. It was a restaurant ran out of a home kitchen. Some white men were serving as staff. I thought that was interesting as a choice of work for foreigners in Vietnam. The restaurant was close to the beach, so we went there for a short walk. The beautiful beach front properties bespeak a neighborhood of affluence. That was a world away from Danang city proper, which we just visited before dinner.
The first day in Danang was great.
Danang was my third trip to Vietnam. I had not written much during my first two trips, which were to Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, respectively. Therefore I will start with my third trip. To Danang and Hoi An it was. The street scenes …
This would be my second try at finding the War Relics Trail, also known as Maclehose Trail Section 6. Last time, I attempted to reach this section of the Maclehose Trail by the starting point of the Kowloon Reservoir. I was lost. The War Relics …
I love Vietnam.
Being a child of Hong Kong, I grew up knowing just a few countries. There was Britain, which as a colonial power administered Hong Kong during my formative years. There was China, a motherland that scared most of Hong Kong people away before 1997. Then America, as a world power that nobody could ignore. Next came Vietnam.
When I was in fourth grade, a neighborhood restaurant opened. It was a Vietnamese restaurant. That would be my first taste of this country’s wonders. Its food was delicious. Whenever my mother decided to dine out, which was not often, I would always hope for Vietnamese food at this neighborhood restaurant. There was always a bit of wait there, and I thought it was worth it.
At around the same time, Hong Kong was having a hard time dealing with the issue of the boat people. During the 1980s, many, many, boatloads of Vietnamese people landed the shore of Hong Kong. They sought asylum. As a matter of policy, Hong Kong did not accept refugees (it still does not today.) What do we do with all these boat people? The Colonial Government kept them in a refugee camp in Sai Kung, until some established the refugee status and could go on to other countries that would give them home. Those that did not qualify as refugees had to go back to Vietnam.
My young mind could not wrap around these impressions of Vietnam. They were of contradiction: its food needed no proof of the country’s greatness. Yet its people were running away. Without a developed worldview (and the attendant sympathies), I felt as if the people of Vietnam were causing trouble in Hong Kong.
In my American high school, I read about the Vietnam War in the history books. There were also Vietnamese immigrants in school, though I never had a chance to know them. But that all was more than the food and the boat people. I slowly gathered a better understanding, though still rather preliminary, of Vietnam.
Until I finished all my education in the United States and landed a job in Hong Kong, when I finally could visit Vietnam for the first time. Ever since then, I have had one goal with regards to this country – I want to see all of it.
By now, I have visited Vietnam four times and my knowledge of the country is entering the intermediate range. I am pleased that I have come to know it. Indeed, food or not, Vietnam is much more than its Pho.
Welcome to this series on Vietnam – Beyond Pho.
I was very ambitious in trying to walk the Maclehose Trail Section 6 from the starting point of the Kowloon Reservoir. It turned out that I lost my way. I never made it out to the War Relics Trail, which would have been the final …
It was time to say goodbye to the Dying Lion. I headed back and passed by the Hofkirche St Leodegar (The Church of St. Leodegar). The Church of St. Leodegar, the Catholic Foundation of Luzern St. Leodegar is Luzern’s patron saint. In the Chapel Bridge, …
It was time for lunch. As much as I looked forward to having some hot food, I was a little lost as to how to find the right food for the right price. All things in Switzerland were expensive, with the exception of water.
I must have passed by the Weggisgasse, and I found a restaurant. A pull-up showing a picture of tomato with tagliatelle came into view. This is it!
Heini was bustling with all walks of life at this hour. This beautiful tomato with tagliatelle is called Pasta Rossini. What an elegant name I thought, then the William Tell Overture played on my mind and I started giggling. It was very funny because the way that I rushed through the first part of Luzern sounded exactly like it. Well, it sounds like a perfect lunch for me.
The dish was vegetarian in hearty portions. It came with a salad, a bread roll, and a piece of chocolate with the coffee. All of this cost 21 CHF and it was reasonable by Switzerland standard. I enjoyed the atmosphere as I ate. Heini was a busy restaurant. Yet as with my general experience in Switzerland, the staff was ever so courteous. I needed the warmth and the human interaction.
After lunch I decided to head out to the single most important landmark in Luzern. The Löwendenkmal is at the eastern end of town. There would be a little bit of a walk in snow, but I was ready.
On my way I passed by the Bourbaki Panorama, which features a circular panorama. It shows a scene of the French troops marching through Switzerland during the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871. The painter was Edouard Castres. Although it is one of the few panoramic paintings in the world, I have little training in art appreciation. So I passed on this expense.
The main reason why I chose Luzern as my last day trip in Switzerland was to see the Löwendenkmal. Known as the “Dying Lion,” the Lowendenkmal is a lion figure pierced by a spear. It is a rock relief hewn into a cliff in Luzern.
When you see the store with a large and beautiful Pinocchio at its door, you know you are near the dying lion. It was still snowing then, but there was the excitement of all these tourists to keep it warm for me. Regardless of our nationalities, we all marveled at its beauty. It brought forth an expression of unspeakable sadness, so touching that it was universal. The power of art was palpable.
Indeed, the dying lion conveys such powerful emotions that no explanations are necessary. But perhaps the historical context of the monument helps in order to understand it better. Bertel Thorvaldsen was a famous Danish sculptor born in the 18th century. He designed the dying lion.[1] Lukas Ahorn hewn this rock relief by hand in 1820-1821.
The lion commemorates the Swiss mercenary guards who were massacred in 1792 during the French Revolution. They were the guards for Louis XVI at the Tuileries Palace, after Louis XVI retreated from the Palace of Versailles. Some died during the battle. They were out of ammunition and seriously outnumbered by the Revolutionaries. Some died in the massacre that followed. Still some died in prison.[2]
The Latin phrase above the rock, Helvetiorum Fidei Ac Virtuti, means “To the Loyalty and the Bravery of the Swiss.”[3] The names of those who died and survived are also memorialized here.
As for me, this imagery of the dying lion reminded me of one of my favorite books during my teen years, and it was Aslan in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. Although I was not able to find the reason why the figure was a lion, as art this sculpture certainly transcends all cultures.
According to the Wikipedia, Mark Twain has praised the Löwendenkmal to be the “most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world.”[4]
I asked a fellow tourist to take a picture of me and the lion. The couple were Chinese. They positioned me here, there, and snapped a few pretty good shots, despite my having gained quite a bit of weight during this trip. “Make sure that you capture the reflection in the pond.” He reminded me when I raised my film camera. I thanked him for the advice.
It must have been the mere power of art that made people line up one by one, all in order. Everyone was very happy to take pictures for each other. Soon, the crowds dispersed, and I spent another 10 minutes just admiring the view.
It was time to go as it snowed increasingly heavily. I had in mind my last stop: the Museggmauer.
[1] The Wikipedia on Bertel Thorvaldsen, at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bertel_Thorvaldsen.
[2] The Wikipedia on the Lion Monument.
[3] All About Switzerland, Lion Monument, Lucerne.
[4] Supra note 2.
Those who have been to Hong Kong would have heard of the “Ladies’ Street” in the shopping area of Mong Kok. I think equally fascinating is its counterpart, “Men’s Street.” Temple Street in Yau Ma Tei is known to Hong Kong people as “Men’s Street.” …