domingo, 7 de abril de 2013
sábado, 2 de febrero de 2013
Khmer land (pt.2)
Kompong Chray temple (banyan station), built in 1637. Once famous for its bat population. A bomb fell on the temple in 1968; the bats were scared away and haven't returned since.
This temple in Vietnamese is called the Cave temple (chùa Hang), for its entrance design (that looks like a tunnel to me). Here's the entrance with my rental Honda Super Cub.
Found a dog and he followed me around to pose for photos. Definitely a good model.
The temple has a sculpture club that's won many prizes. Artisans are invited here to teach interested monks. They insisted that I go see the exhibition room (and check out the two headed calf), and it was indeed very impressive.
This buffalo would take 3 months to finish.
Suddenly heard a commotion. Some monks started picking tamarind and others came out to cheer for the picker.
Everyone was so excited. They went to all the big trees.
Of course, there's always a loner. In this case, a dragon drawing monk:
Enjoying the fruits of their hard work. I got some too but could only take a couple of bites. They all laughed at my lack of sour tamarind eating skill.
This temple in Vietnamese is called the Cave temple (chùa Hang), for its entrance design (that looks like a tunnel to me). Here's the entrance with my rental Honda Super Cub.
Found a dog and he followed me around to pose for photos. Definitely a good model.
The temple has a sculpture club that's won many prizes. Artisans are invited here to teach interested monks. They insisted that I go see the exhibition room (and check out the two headed calf), and it was indeed very impressive.
Suddenly heard a commotion. Some monks started picking tamarind and others came out to cheer for the picker.
Everyone was so excited. They went to all the big trees.
Of course, there's always a loner. In this case, a dragon drawing monk:
Enjoying the fruits of their hard work. I got some too but could only take a couple of bites. They all laughed at my lack of sour tamarind eating skill.
Destination: Khmer land
On Thursday, I got to Tra Vinh province after a 4-hr bus from Dong Thap, only to find out that I wouldn't be able to go ahead with work. Already there, and not wanting to spend another 4 hours on bus to get back to SaiGon, I decided to stay for a day.
Next day, on a rental Honda (scooters here are simply referred as Honda), I rode along the major roads and just stopped at whatever caught my eyes and piqued my interest. 60% of the population here is Khmer and the most visual indication is all the Khmer temples dotting around.
At the third temple that I stumbled upon, the monks were friendly, and spoke Vietnamese well enough, that they invited me to stay for a drink, and then for lunch. Our conversation ranged from the differences between the Southern school of Buddhism (Theravada, found here and similar to what you'd see in Thailand, Cambodia, and Myanmar) and the Northern school (Mahayana with heavy Chinese influence), to how this land once was all Khmer land. On the latter, the monks were being quite circumspect, sandwiching their nostalgia with assurance that they weren't at all interested in politics: "Those who lost in history lost their land and country. But what could you do? The past is the past, some of us monks still know a little about history, but that's about it. We don't do anything; we let the government take care of it. We're monks already, we've given up on desire. All we want is a fair life for the people."
One of my favorite Vietnamese poets is Chế Lan Viên. The poetry collection that debuted and cemented his name in Vietnamese literature was published in the 1937 when he was 17. Điêu tàn (Ruins) shocked me, like other readers, but I came to love his lines of corpses and blood, ghosts and tombs. It was my first introduction to the history of Cham people and the pain and yearning of a people whose glorious past was no more. (Once thriving in central Vietnam, they're now reduced to one of the country's 53 minor ethnicities.) Since then, whenever I think about the history of Vietnam under Chinese dominance, I also think about the people whose land my people usurped and whose culture my culture relegated to the margin as something lowly and/or fit for exhibition only. The Cham, the Khmer, the Montagnard. Politico-cultural colonization is certainly not unique to the history of Vietnam. Mexico, Peru, Hawaii, I've met enough people who fought and are still fighting hard to keep the fire alive in their way of life in small and big ways. But this is more personal. I wanted to simply ask What does it feel like? but didn't dare to push that question to the monks.
(Here's a report by Human Rights Watch that I found on lowland Khmer. Lots of information that i'd never heard of, e.g. monk-led protests in 2007, pressure on and suppression of Buddhist activists.)
Selatro Temple (Điệp Thạch - Underground Rock)
The main temple was closed. I asked a guy why. Turned out he's a college student who's boarding at the temple. He went and got a monk to open it for me.
Next day, on a rental Honda (scooters here are simply referred as Honda), I rode along the major roads and just stopped at whatever caught my eyes and piqued my interest. 60% of the population here is Khmer and the most visual indication is all the Khmer temples dotting around.
At the third temple that I stumbled upon, the monks were friendly, and spoke Vietnamese well enough, that they invited me to stay for a drink, and then for lunch. Our conversation ranged from the differences between the Southern school of Buddhism (Theravada, found here and similar to what you'd see in Thailand, Cambodia, and Myanmar) and the Northern school (Mahayana with heavy Chinese influence), to how this land once was all Khmer land. On the latter, the monks were being quite circumspect, sandwiching their nostalgia with assurance that they weren't at all interested in politics: "Those who lost in history lost their land and country. But what could you do? The past is the past, some of us monks still know a little about history, but that's about it. We don't do anything; we let the government take care of it. We're monks already, we've given up on desire. All we want is a fair life for the people."
One of my favorite Vietnamese poets is Chế Lan Viên. The poetry collection that debuted and cemented his name in Vietnamese literature was published in the 1937 when he was 17. Điêu tàn (Ruins) shocked me, like other readers, but I came to love his lines of corpses and blood, ghosts and tombs. It was my first introduction to the history of Cham people and the pain and yearning of a people whose glorious past was no more. (Once thriving in central Vietnam, they're now reduced to one of the country's 53 minor ethnicities.) Since then, whenever I think about the history of Vietnam under Chinese dominance, I also think about the people whose land my people usurped and whose culture my culture relegated to the margin as something lowly and/or fit for exhibition only. The Cham, the Khmer, the Montagnard. Politico-cultural colonization is certainly not unique to the history of Vietnam. Mexico, Peru, Hawaii, I've met enough people who fought and are still fighting hard to keep the fire alive in their way of life in small and big ways. But this is more personal. I wanted to simply ask What does it feel like? but didn't dare to push that question to the monks.
(Here's a report by Human Rights Watch that I found on lowland Khmer. Lots of information that i'd never heard of, e.g. monk-led protests in 2007, pressure on and suppression of Buddhist activists.)
Selatro Temple (Điệp Thạch - Underground Rock)
The main temple was closed. I asked a guy why. Turned out he's a college student who's boarding at the temple. He went and got a monk to open it for me.
jueves, 31 de enero de 2013
wish list: chocolate
Going home in August, I was excited, knowing that my sister had brought me some chocolate in April. I opened the box that my mom had carefully put away, and it was a big-name brand (which equals barely average quality). Sis said she was in a rush and had to pick some up at the airport. No wonder! I could only digest a couple of pieces. That's the thing about chocolate for me. I'm addicted, but to quality, not to quantity. I'd rather not eat any for years than eat something less than gourmet (so spoiled i know).
As soon as i knew my sis was going home again in December, i asked her to buy some decent treats, not the airport kind. And yet I was again sorely disappointed. But i couldn't fault her. She moved to Zurich just a few days before flying out so she didn't know many places (plus, it's Zurich, not a French city). And then she spent a week in Bali, so the chocolate wasn't in, uhm, the best storage condition. Knowing that in no ways alleviated my sense of deprivation though. The last time I had some good one was all the way back in June when Col picked up some for me from Alegio's in Berkeley. It wasn't the best in the world (as advertised to him) but was up there.
I tried to suppress all thoughts about chocolate, but the wound was ripped open again when my friend Ysa posted on fb photos of the chocolate that she received (and got to eat). They looked divine, rubbing salt on my open sore. And I'm back on the crave. But this is Vietnam, it's like the antonym of good chocolate. In an act of desperation, I googled "best chocolate in Vietnam" and surprisingly came across a couple of interesting leads.
First is the Chocolate Buffet at the Hanoi's Metropole. Metropole is one of the top fine dining establishments in Hanoi. (I got to eat there once at a reception and every single thing was so damn delicious). All the reviews say the buffet is top-notch, mouth-watering, spectacular, sumptuous and scrumptious, blah blah blah. They even have chocolate spring rolls! What kind of sorcery is that! Not surprisingly it comes with a hefty price tag: $25. Sounds reasonable in dollars, but too sinful in Vietnam dong. But then, maybe i can eat myself out of ever wanting good chocolate again. Please let me indulge in some wishful thinking.
The other promising option is a chocolatier called Marou. They source cocoa beans in small farms in central and south Vietnam, and make the chocolate in Saigon. It's all local and small business. Sounds my type. And to top that off, behind it stand 2 French guys. French. Certainly helps, in my opinion. I'll be in Saigon in a couple of days and can't wait to taste their dark chocolate bar.
As soon as i knew my sis was going home again in December, i asked her to buy some decent treats, not the airport kind. And yet I was again sorely disappointed. But i couldn't fault her. She moved to Zurich just a few days before flying out so she didn't know many places (plus, it's Zurich, not a French city). And then she spent a week in Bali, so the chocolate wasn't in, uhm, the best storage condition. Knowing that in no ways alleviated my sense of deprivation though. The last time I had some good one was all the way back in June when Col picked up some for me from Alegio's in Berkeley. It wasn't the best in the world (as advertised to him) but was up there.
I tried to suppress all thoughts about chocolate, but the wound was ripped open again when my friend Ysa posted on fb photos of the chocolate that she received (and got to eat). They looked divine, rubbing salt on my open sore. And I'm back on the crave. But this is Vietnam, it's like the antonym of good chocolate. In an act of desperation, I googled "best chocolate in Vietnam" and surprisingly came across a couple of interesting leads.
First is the Chocolate Buffet at the Hanoi's Metropole. Metropole is one of the top fine dining establishments in Hanoi. (I got to eat there once at a reception and every single thing was so damn delicious). All the reviews say the buffet is top-notch, mouth-watering, spectacular, sumptuous and scrumptious, blah blah blah. They even have chocolate spring rolls! What kind of sorcery is that! Not surprisingly it comes with a hefty price tag: $25. Sounds reasonable in dollars, but too sinful in Vietnam dong. But then, maybe i can eat myself out of ever wanting good chocolate again. Please let me indulge in some wishful thinking.
The other promising option is a chocolatier called Marou. They source cocoa beans in small farms in central and south Vietnam, and make the chocolate in Saigon. It's all local and small business. Sounds my type. And to top that off, behind it stand 2 French guys. French. Certainly helps, in my opinion. I'll be in Saigon in a couple of days and can't wait to taste their dark chocolate bar.
lunes, 28 de enero de 2013
Destination: Đồng Tháp
Things I know:
- an area called Đồng Tháp Mười, but i don't even know what and where exactly it is, and why it is famous.
- a town called Sadec, where part of the film L'amant (the Lover) was set. (A haunting book of longing and desire, adapted into a nostalgically sensual film, the first Western production shot in the country post 1975).
It is not all a tourist destination, evidenced by the dearth of hotel information online. I got off at the bus terminal and just asked around. Found a place and settled in. Dad called; he remembered that he has a friend here in the city of Cao Lanh (the provincial capital). That's the wonderful thing about the military: it's a hotpot of people from all different places.
15 years ago, my dad went a way for a year of training in the city of Nha Trang. Uncle Hung was in the same cohort as my dad. Back then, cell phones were a rarity. Once or twice a week, uncle Hung would trek to the local post office to call home. When my dad knew about this, he offered his cell phone number to uncle Hung so that his wife could call and he wouldn't have to take the walk at night any more.
Uncle Hung is now the second-in-command of the provincial army, and he offered me a military "escort" - one of his men can take me around to visit the recipients. Made me feel like a VIP, but i think i'll just opt for the xe ôm.
Uncle Hung explained to me that Đồng Tháp Mười back in the day was all uninhabited wetland where hardcore resistance fighters used to hide out. (Mystery solved!) It has turned into a major rice production area since. The only part that still resembles the past is Tràm Chim, which is now a national park and Ramsar site, famous for its crane population. Too bad I have no time for sightseeing on this trip, but definitely next time around.
sábado, 26 de enero de 2013
On the road again... soon enough
I always thought that once i got back home i'd not be able to travel much again, that i'd have to settle down so to speak.
My prediction seemed to come true when i moved back. 4 months locked down in Hanoi. But now with this new job, half of my work time is on the road, here, there, and everywhere (but all within Vietnam of course). I think it'd suit me just fine. I'm excited to see parts of the country that I'm not at all familiar with. I'm excited that i don't work 9-5; i don't even have an office to work in for that matter. What more could a undisciplined soul ask for? I could already see a host of my friends nodding: Yeah you'd totally do something like that. I guess i'm just that predictable, people!
Tomorrow, the journey starts again. I'm nervous, almost like the first time I stepped out on the road, arm out thumb up, having absolutely no idea what was gonna happen. It might seem funny to people but I feel less safe in my own country than in other places (and yes, I traveled by myself to very conservative regions in Algeria and India). I'm Vietnamese, and have to play by the Vietnamese rules. Much less leeway than when I'm abroad and can fake ignorance to do what pleases me.
In a week, I'll know if I like the aftertaste.
martes, 15 de enero de 2013
hay que vivir bonito
Hello world and hello friends that stumble on my blog from time to time,
Here's another attempt at jotting down my life.
Biggest news is that I'm back in Vietnam after 7 years. The typical reaction from relatives, friends, acquaintances was: Why did you come back? Why didn't you just get married and settle abroad? It's so chaotic back here you won't be able to stand it.
There are various reasons, one being my stubbornness to prove myself, to prove that i can make it back here. It hasn't been smooth. After years of living life the way you want it, moving back with any parents would be hard. Riding around in scooter is stressful; sometimes i feel like my head would explode if i heard another honk. I miss the ocean, miss the smell of salt, miss the taste of it when i lick my lips. And perhaps a time of more innocence and less worry.
I worked briefly at a planning institute and fought a lot with mom and dad so that i could quit. It tired and depressed me to listen to pretty words from people who would do nothing close to what they say (or worse, the opposite of what they say). They say patience. What you need is patience to get to the place where you can do what you want. But no thank you, i can't live with pretentiousness.
While waiting to quit that job, thanks to Ngoc, i started working at a PR firm (her workplace). It kept me sane. The work was straightforward. I knew what i was doing and why i was doing it.
And now after 4 months of digging for directions, I got another chance. I already know there will be some big challenges and it will be trying both physically and psychologically. But i'll get to do something that is meaningful to me because it serves a greater good.
Sometimes I read back my blog and journal entries, and come across advice that people (usually random strangers) gave me about life. And i'd always cry. They all tell me to be who i am. Maybe because they're not my mom and don't have to fret about my future. Still, that's what i need to hear from time to time: do what you believe in.
Here's another attempt at jotting down my life.
Biggest news is that I'm back in Vietnam after 7 years. The typical reaction from relatives, friends, acquaintances was: Why did you come back? Why didn't you just get married and settle abroad? It's so chaotic back here you won't be able to stand it.
There are various reasons, one being my stubbornness to prove myself, to prove that i can make it back here. It hasn't been smooth. After years of living life the way you want it, moving back with any parents would be hard. Riding around in scooter is stressful; sometimes i feel like my head would explode if i heard another honk. I miss the ocean, miss the smell of salt, miss the taste of it when i lick my lips. And perhaps a time of more innocence and less worry.
I worked briefly at a planning institute and fought a lot with mom and dad so that i could quit. It tired and depressed me to listen to pretty words from people who would do nothing close to what they say (or worse, the opposite of what they say). They say patience. What you need is patience to get to the place where you can do what you want. But no thank you, i can't live with pretentiousness.
While waiting to quit that job, thanks to Ngoc, i started working at a PR firm (her workplace). It kept me sane. The work was straightforward. I knew what i was doing and why i was doing it.
And now after 4 months of digging for directions, I got another chance. I already know there will be some big challenges and it will be trying both physically and psychologically. But i'll get to do something that is meaningful to me because it serves a greater good.
Sometimes I read back my blog and journal entries, and come across advice that people (usually random strangers) gave me about life. And i'd always cry. They all tell me to be who i am. Maybe because they're not my mom and don't have to fret about my future. Still, that's what i need to hear from time to time: do what you believe in.
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