11th Uprising- Hoi An
Our second day in Hoi An was an itinerized free day with the group split between optional tours like My Son Sanctuary, regional bike riding and local cooking classes. Others just relaxed by the pool or popped back into town to test fit their tailor made garments. Fatpap scored a free ticket (well for the cost of last nights dinner anyway) to My Son Sanctuary with Elyse who had a spare due to her travel partner bailing on the trip at the last minute. Picked up at 7:15am it was a leisurely hours drive out to My Son to beat both the heat and the tourists.
My Son Sanctuary, Vietnam
Nestled in a 2 kilometre long valley near the village of Duy Phú lies a cluster of abandoned and partially ruined Shaiva Hindu temples constructed between the 4th and 13th century now known as My Son Sanctuary. Built by the Kings of Champa, what remains play an important role in world history and culture and is now protected by a UNESCO World Heritage Listing.
On arrival to the complex we boarded an electric cart for the short journey deeper into the valley but from there on it was all foot. The relics are located in groups, some better preserved than others, however en mass are very impressive and actually took our breath away as the morning sun bounced from their red brick facades.
The valley was a site of religious ceremony for kings of the ruling dynasties as well as a burial place for Cham royalty and national heroes. At one time the site encompassed over 70 temples as well as numerous steles bearing historically important inscriptions in Sanskrit and Cham, however today only 20 remain through years or decay, natural disasters and war. My Son is considered the longest inhabited archaeological site in mainland Southeast Asia.
The architecture and design of the surviving structures were developed unceasingly over 10 centuries with the earliest temples built of wood ultimately destroyed by fire. The subsequent kings rebuilt the temples from close fitted bricks and almost invisible mortar which has today decayed so much even the strongest winds can topple bricks from their standing. Many statues and steles have been relocated to historical French or Vietnamese museums for this very reason.
French archaeologist Camille Paris rediscovered the Hindu temple complex while setting up a telegram line during the French occupation in the 19th century, however it was his compatriot Henri Parmentier who conducted extensive studies of My Son and credited with categorising the temples into alphabetical groups - namely A, A', B, C, D, E, F, G, H and K groups, each of which is subdivided with monuments assigned a number. Pure genius when you think about it.
In 1937 French scholars began restoring the main temple known as "A1" together with smaller ones surrounding it. Other major temples were then restored between 1939 and 1943 however many historical buildings were destroyed during the Vietnam War. My Son was part of a Viet Cong stronghold and consequently American B-52 heavy aircraft carpet bombed the region, and in only one week of August 1969 they destroyed the majority of the tower temples. The surrounding area to this day is still rendered dangerous with the presence of unexploded land mines as evidenced by the death of some archaeologist in 1981 during the restoration works carried out by Kazimierz Kwiatkowski.
When planning this whole trip the My Son Sanctuary was initially a casualty of timing. However having been given the unexpected opportunity of exploring this marvel to human persistence, it can be said the entire complex exceeded all expectations providing a truly, and in many way unique insight into centuries old Vietnamese culture and the reckless speed in which modern man can destroy it all.
Returning to the hotel at various stages, the group reassembled to regale tales of their morning adventures while cocktailing and snacking poolside. Those of us with more still to burn mounted a fleet of hotel provided bicycles for a ride down to Cua Dai Beach on the East Vietnam Sea. Meandering through household alleyways, rice fields and even crossing the De Vong bridge spanning the Thu Bon River, we fought a relentless headwind to discover our own patch of beach virtually deserted. We jumped in ticking off another body of water we had swum in, and stayed waist deep for about an hour. Down the long stretch of remarkably clean beach one could see the skyline of Da Nang only 30km away to the north and to the east the peaks of Cham, La, Dai, and Tai islets - just like a Sound of Music song.
Cua Dai Beach, Hoi An, Vietnam
Here we were lucky to see the traditional basket boats of coastal Vietnam return from their daily fishing trips. Dotting the waters up and down the coast, these odd looking vessels were born of ingenuity during the French colonial era when high levies were placed on all types of boats. To avoid any taxes, fishermen designed circular woven “baskets” that just happened to also function as boats. With a petrol motor and “long tail” propeller, these craft ply the shores daily with hand woven nets catching fresh fish to sell at local markets.
Returning to the hotel for yet another swim, most headed back into town late afternoon for a subdued dinner and some last minute shopping. For those still waiting on clothes, these were picked up, tried on and happily accepted. We dined under lantern light in a street-side restaurant on soft shell crab and gyozas, continuing to share stories of what we did over the past 12 hours. It was our first free day on tour, and apart, and interesting to learn how everyone had spent it.
Hoi An is an absolute picturesque town invoking the most relaxed and carefree atmosphere imaginable. Devoid of the regular tourist traps expected from such a city, there were no vendors bullying for your patronage or street scams promising the world and half America. No, Hoi An was just a simple coastal town doing its own thing - and that was lucidly magnificent. At one point during a short storm we entered a bar for shelter carrying cans of pre-purchased beer. We were welcomed to sit down, chatted to the owner, then asked if our empties could be disposed of. If thats not friendly we dont know what is.
Back home we called it an early night with Fatpap and Mel sharing one last poolside drink. Tomorrow would be our earliest start on tour and everyone still had reorganising, packing and various other stuff to do.
