Michael Batson

Thien My Pagoda is regarded as the unofficial symbol of the ancient imperial city of Huế. The pagoda is older than any of the tombs I visited and holds a more poignant place in the contemporary history of Vietnam. The pagoda which means “Heavenly Lady” in Vietnamese, is situated on hill on the outskirts of Huế overlooking the Perfume River. Originally built in 1601, several of the Nguyen kings added to and restored the pagoda over time. The pagoda can be reached easily from the city by bicycle if you cross the river from the main hotel area and ride along past the Citadel until you come to the railway bridge. Carry on down that road until you reach the pagoda. Entrance is free.

The pagoda’s seven-storey octagonal tower, built in 1884, is easily the most distinguishable feature of the complex. Behind is the Dai Hung shrine, the main-hall. As well as bronze cast statues, it shelters some precious antiques: the bronze gong cast in 1677, the wooden gilded board with Lord Nguyen Phuc Chu's inscriptions (1714). On opposite sides of the pagoda are a room for the bonzes (religious teachers) and a guest-room for visitors. Monks dressed in grey robes are seen going about their daily business, one could be seen walking his motorcycle through the bonsai trees behind the main complex.

The temple also houses the A50 Austin motor vehicle in which Thich Quang Duc was driven to his self-immolation in Saigon in 1963 against the Diem regime. The car, a rusted blue, is housed in a garage at the side of the complex. The famous photograph capturing the moment of Thich’s immolation, seated on the road with his head engulfed in flames is framed on the rear wall. The photo was used by the rap metal band Rage Against The Machine on the cover of their self-titled debut album. At the time John F. Kennedy said of the photograph, "No news picture in history has generated so much emotion around the world as that one.” Malcolm Browne, the Associated Press photographer, won the World Press Photo of the Year that year for his photograph of the monk's death. At the time of the incident, the president’s sister-in-law, the hideous Madame Ngo Dinh Nhu, had shocked international observers by referring to acts of self-immolation by Buddhist monks in protest against Diem’s repressive measures as “barbecue parties” and clapping her hands wishing, she said, to see more.

Across from the street of the five-star Imperial Hotel is Coco’s bar and tours. Coco is a 47-year-old Vietnamese. She ushered me in off the street in the midday sun. A Saigon Export beer is US$0.50. Coco was keen for us to try the milk stout by the can at 6.5 percent alcohol. Opening beer bottles is a Coco special. She employs a short piece of wood with a bolt through the end. The edge of the bolt sits perfectly in alignment with the lip of the bottle cap and with a swift downward motion Coco sends the cap clean across the room. It reminded me of party tricks opening bottles with lighters.

I suspected Coco is an ex-taxi girl. Why are they called taxi girls, because like taxis they go here, there and everywhere. She had been married to an Englishman, who had unfortunately succumbed to a coronary while living in Holland, and Coco got nothing from his estate. So here she was, childless and living in Huế, and working despite the name, in her sister’s bar. The food was excellent. The sister did most of the cooking but Coco insisted she was the better of the two. To reinforce this point, she levelled the bottle opener in my direction. Two beers, a plate of rice and another of sautéed vegetables with shrimp, and a large piping hot banana pancake cost US$3. By European standards her regime is horrendous. She arises at 5.30am to head off to the market to buy produce for the restaurant. She worked all day in the restaurant until it closed at about 1am the following morning, before getting up to do it all again. As if that wasn’t enough, about 7pm each evening she headed off to the banks of the Perfume River to exercise.

The most impressive construction in Huế, for my money, is the Citadel, easily reached across the river by bicycle, or on foot, though covering an area of some 520 hectares, is too large to traverse by walking, especially in that heat. What’s especially impressive, or dispiriting, depending on your point of view, is that despite more than fifty years of decay and attrition, the Citadel is still imposing. Recent renovation work has restored several of its buildings to their previous glory. For 10 days from 5 June the Festival of Huế will be held and many a public space was given over to the erection of public seating to witness the festivities. Viewed from the outer walls of the Citadel, giant pink artificial lotus flowers were anchored along a stretch of the river.

The city’s name Huế, stems from its former name Thanh Hoa, the word “hoa” means peace or harmony in Vietnamese. In the center of Vietnam, Hue was the capital of Vietnam for approximately 150 years (1802–1945). Previously, the citadel city of Phú Xuân was twice capital of the southern part of Vietnam, ruled by the Nguyen dynasty first from 1678-1777 and then 1786-1802 when it was renamed Huế. In 1885 the French toppled and eventually exiled the Emperor Ham Nghi to Algeria, replacing him with the more submissive Dong Khanh, thus extinguishing any distant dreams of Vietnamese independence.

Often referred to as ‘ancient’, Huế ’s Citadel is relatively modern in Western terms. Built over thirty years in the early part of the 19th century, the Citadel encompasses three ‘courts’ protected by fortified ramparts. The outer court within the massive brick walls 2kms by 2kms and ten metres thick in places, is mainly open space and gardens. This is the citadel. Inside the citadel is the Imperial City with a perimeter wall some 2.5kms long. Inside the Imperial City is the Forbidden City. Access to the innermost enclosure was restricted to the imperial family.

Around the outskirts are great moats, the water being diverted from the Perfume River. The waterways are lined with mature trees, some with brilliant orange flame flowers. The afternoon had the feel of a fiesta riding the tree-lined streets with shops closed and few people on the street. One place that was open was run by two sisters. I sat on outside in the shade and drank Lipton tea from plastic bottles. Next door, a group of young men watched me with curiosity. Nearby was a Honda motorbike of 1970 vintage. I was surprised when one of the young men hopped on and kicked it over with a single effortless attempt and rapidly headed off down the street.

The Imperial City of Huế, built along similar lines as the Forbidden Palace in Beijing, was the country's administrative centre. Senior mandarins, court officers and civil servants would have entered by the ‘Ngo Mon’ (noon gate). Directly behind were the Dai Trieu Nghi (great rites courtyard) and the Thai Hoa Palace (throne hall) where the emperor would meet foreign rulers and emissaries, high-ranking ministers, and other dignitaries.

At the heart of the Imperial City was the ‘Tu Cam Thanh’ (Forbidden Purple City). Only members of the royal family, the emperor’s concubines, and trusted senior mandarins and officers such as the royal doctor were allowed through the sole entry gate. Inside were various palaces and the emperor’s private apartments.

Less than a third of the structures inside the citadel remain. The French army shelled the building, and removed (that should be stole) or destroyed nearly all the treasures it contained. Most of the buildings in the Forbidden City were destroyed by fire in 1947. To see what the original looked like it’s now possible to see 3D computer graphical recreation on display inside the complex. Getting inside the complex, with the admission 55,000 VND proved problematic. Tired, hot, thirsty and sunburned, I’m still unsure but I think the woman taking the cash and issuing the tickets ripped me off, in one of those traveling “wake-up calls.” Still, always better a dollar or two, than three or four hundred, or worse.

Further destruction occurred during the Tet Offensive in January 1968. While US attention was concentrated on the firebase at Khe Sanh, the Vietnamese Liberation Front and North Vietnamese Army walked into Huế, then the third largest city in South Vietnam. The local governmental apparatus of the Republic of Vietnam (the South) collapsed and the communist flag flew over the citadel (as it does today). Meticulous preparation months before the takeover had seen lists drawn up of locals considered “uncooperative” to communist forces and thousands were rounded up during extensive house-to-house searches. Up to 3000 people, many with ties to the South Vietnamese government, were executed during the 25 days communist forces controlled the city. The shallow mass graves of those condemned were discovered at various locations around the city over the next few years.

The Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN, the forces of the US-backed South) proved incapable of dislodging the communist forces in the south (dubbed Viet Cong, a pejorative term coined by President Diem’s brother or his press people) and NVA, so US forces stepped in and during the next 10 days whole sections of the city were raised to the ground by rocket and artillery fire. Reminders of those times litter the city; pill boxes at intersections, one sits atop the walls of the citadel itself looking like a grey concrete tumour on the pink flesh colour of the ancient walls. Originally, the walls of the citadel were made of earth, but these were covered over with a two metre thick layer of brick, all the way round.

The walls are 10kms long and construction began in 1804 on a site chosen under the rule of the Emperor Gia Long. The citadel has 10 fortified gates, three of the walls are straight and the fourth follows the line of the river. Following the destruction during Tet, much of the citadel’s interior is now given over to agriculture, though the Mang Ca Fortress, known as the French Concession, is still used by the army as a military base.

Crossing the Trang Tien Bridge over the Perfume River I saw some men diving off narrow boats with outboards for what looked like scrap metal, war junk. The narrow entrances into the old city allow for no footpaths, there’s no room, so bicycles, motorbikes and the increasing number of cars compete for the same narrow space. At the precise moment I left the old city on my bicycle everyone seemed to have woken up and coming at me in dense waves were dozens of motorcycles. Inside the Citadel the streets are all one-way, and I was going the wrong way. Vietnamese seem unperturbed by near misses or road etiquette. Near misses result in no road rage, which is probably just as well, as the whole country would have little time for anything else if that were the case.

Just inside the Thoung Tu Gate is the museum complex containing the Fine Arts, Natural History, Military and General museums, all closed the first day I tried to visit them. Outside the military section are various tanks and artillery pieces, slowly rusting away, lined up. Some of the artillery pieces were Russian and Chinese made. Two guns were of US make, including the enormous “Battlefield King” as the Vietnamese called it. A 175mm gun barrel, equivalent to a six-inch naval gun mounted on a tank chassis. I estimate the barrel to be eight to nine metres long. At the back of the vehicle is a large metal blade, like that found on a bulldozer, to cushion recoil, which must have been immense. It was powered by a V-8 two-stroke Detroit diesel engine, and cooled by two large radiators mounted behind the engine block. It was captured according to the plaque, “By Liberation Army from US and puppet forces in the Tan My Port, Thuan on 26 March 1975.”

There were also a range of other disused and abandoned hardware: tanks, armoured personnel carriers, and one monster called a Crane Tank which dwarfed them all. It’s a common sight to see ex-US army vehicles plying the roads of parts of Asia, or parked up in some wrecker’s yard collecting rust. Some of them like the jeeps often seen, are in amazing condition and probably now collector’s items. Reminders that while the US is reluctant to leave personnel behind, live or dead, the same cannot be said for their military ordnance, much of it in the form of unexploded bombs and mines, which regularly explode killing and maiming countless civilians today, many of them children. These are reminders of Vietnam’s more recent past, but in Huế you can be fortunate to get a sense of the history of this fascinating land. Huế is well worth a stop to take in the wonder.