My Son Sanctuary

Ted. As we travel, Judy and I are constantly reminded of our ignorance of world civilizations. In 2017, while in Cambodia, we visited the temple complex called Ankor Wat in the ancient Khmer city of Ankor. We were stunned that such a vast power could have ever been defeated in battle.

Living in Hoi An, Vietnam, we are now in an area that was once part the kingdom of Champa, the power that had crushed the Khmer in 1177 and sacked their capital. 

Beginning in the 4th century, in a valley just 20 miles from modern day Hoi An, the Champa people were growing in power and began to erect temples and shrines to their Hindu gods as well as tombs for their godlike kings. 

Like the Khmer, the Champa were great traders. In addition to goods, they also imported ideas, technologies and religions from their neighbors in present day China and India. 

Just like all other empires, in the 15th century, the Champa kingdom slowly collapsed after losing a war with the Viet kingdom to the north. Their buildings were ultimately abandoned and reclaimed by the forest only to be rediscovered by French archaeologists in the late 19th century.

Now called My Son Sanctuary, this collection of over 70 structures is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

We were saddened to learn that these ancient structures suffered a lot of damage from bombs dropped during the war but restoration is underway, funded by grants from Poland, Italy and other countries. Surprisingly, the restorers have been unable to figure out the composition of the bricks that were used a thousand years ago. The old bricks have retained their reddish hue over the centuries but the new bricks quickly get covered mold, turning them black. 

Here are a few snapshots of buildings and carvings we saw at the sanctuary.

As usual, I refer you to the internet for further study. I will also suggest streaming “Ankor: Hidden Jungle Empire,” an episode of the PBS series called Nova. 

So, whatever happened to the Champa people? They are still around. In the extreme southern part of Vietnam, Cambodia and Malaysia one can find a distinct ethnic minority now called the Chams. They have retained elements of the original culture and language but are now practicing Muslims.

Maison Fleur

Judy. When our friend Sonya recommended we stay at Maison Fleur, a boutique hotel in Hoi An, and make sure we had a third floor balcony room overlooking the rice paddy, we just said, “Sounds great!”and let it go at that. Boy, did she ever nail it! 

View across the rice paddy to Maison Fleur.

Located a 50-minute walk from Old Town, and a few

kilometers from the beach, Maison Fleur is a quiet, 15-room hotel with a staff that just might be more caring than that of iWaulai in Chiang Mai! There’s a tiny pool that we have yet to use, because the days have been so temperate. Our wake-up call comes from several roosters at the homes around us, so we sleep with earplugs, although with the exception of the periodical caterwauling from a karaoke bar down the street (that shuts down about 9:30), it is blessedly quiet. Believe me, as much as I enjoy going to Old Town, quiet is not a word I use to describe it! 

Flower gardens all around us!

If they're not growing flowers, our neighbors are hard at work growing organic vegetables

There are small houses around us, with tidy, neatly-organized gardens and dozens of pots of flowers in preparation for Tet, the New Year celebration and for sales to nearby towns. Hoi An is known as the "flower city."  White and brown egrets share the rice paddies with the occasional workers, and every now and again there are bird calls. In the evening, we hear a frog chorus. 

Worker taking a break outside our hotel patio

Our breakfast is served from 7:30 to 9:30, but if anyone has an early tour, Xi and Súóng will make sure there’s plenty of food out before 7. There’s always an array of tropical fruits, trays of pastries, bread for toast, and two pots of coffee, but you can also order just about any type of egg, yogurt and granola, avocado toast, and, of course, Vietnamese soups and steamed buns. Xi might just pop over to your table if you’re simply savoring your coffee and say, “You want Vietnamese breakfast? Vietnamese soup today?” Ted and I usually share a bowl filled with broth, vegetables, noodles, and meat. If you go away hungry, it’s your own fault! These two ladies seem to know everyone’s name, and remember what our preferences are. Xi encourages us to walk instead of taking Grab (the Asian version of Uber) --"You need exercise!"

Súóng taking a break from making more coffee. I love her gorgeous smile!

After breakfast Xi handles the front desk for the morning

For lunch we’re on our own, but it’s an easy walk to any of the cafes nearby. Some are perched so that you can sit and dangle your feet just above the growing rice, some are filled with flowers and sit back a couple of feet. Or you can always order food through Grab. 

There are free bikes to use, but Ted and I don’t trust the crazy motor scooters dashing everywhere, or the tourist tours with cyclists taking photos while they ride instead of watching where they’re going. That, I suspect, is the most dangerous part of being in Hoi An—bicycles, motor scooters, and, to a lesser extent, cars. We’ve mostly learned to deal with it. 

Túóng makes himself lunch--and handles bikes and luggage

Túóng is the handyman here. He carries luggage, pulls out and adjusts bikes for the guests, mops, dusts, and speaks the only English he knows, “bicycle,” and “hello!” His smile conveys the rest. 

Thu is small, but mighty, and makes a mean egg coffee!

Thu is the afternoon/evening manager. She’s 22, looks like a strong wind would knock her over, and can handle anything. Ask about the best place to buy a lantern, and she’ll use her spare minutes to research it and make a recommendation. Somehow, we’ve connected, and she calls me Grandma. Melts my heart every time we come back from a walk and she runs up to hug me. 

People come here from all over the world. For awhile there were lots of French, some Germans, Aussies and Kiwis, Brits, and and Irish couple. Lately there are more Americans.

Chef Patrick

Enjoying a French meal in the Vietnamese dining room

We’ve made friends with a Frenchman from Toulouse, Patrick. Since we speak a little French, he often joins us for breakfast. Three times he’s gotten permission to use the kitchen and dining room to cook us a very French lunch—sautéed shrimp, baby squid, frog legs. Sou, Xi, or Thu act as sous chefs, making rice and even peeling shrimp, then cleaning up afterwards. We provide the wine, and help with the cost of the food. 

A few days after we arrived, we met Erik and Christopher, a couple who travel much like we do. We’ve shared travel suggestions and sat by the rice paddy till late in the evening, drinking wine and laughing our heads off! Since I'm an actor, Christopher has decided my stage name should be "Hoi An Jade."

Hard to keep a straight face with these guys around

We’d heard of residence hotels where people get to know each other and the staff and truly feel at home, and that’s what we experience here. Of course, being here for three weeks helps. We never thought about the fact that having an Airbnb isolates us, and we truly do enjoy having our own place, but this being part of Maison Fleur for a few weeks has taught us the value of being with others. Always learning new lessons.

Hue

Ted. When Judy and I decided to visit Vietnam,  the city of Hue was on my wish list list of destinations. Our travel buddy, Sonya, had suggested we spend some time in nearby Hoi An, so a day trip to Hue became feasible. 

I must say that all I knew about the city was from the Vietnam War (known here as the American War). A fierce battle took place in this city during the “Tet Offensive,” launched during the Tet (Lunar New Year) celebrations in January of 1968. A visit to Hue by Walter Cronkite in the aftermath of the fighting marked a turning point in American public opinion which led, after thousands of more deaths, to the eventual end of US involvement. So this city had stories to tell. 

The history of Vietnam is fascinating and extremely complicated. I’ll refer you to the internet if you’re curious about the comings and goings of various empires. As you surely know, by the middle of the 19th century the French were firmly entrenched here. The small group tour we joined focused on this period and the Nguyen dynasty that was “in charge” then. 

Our drive from Hoi An took us through Da Nang (sort of the Miami of Vietnam), and over Hai Van Pass to the city of Hue.

At the pass with Hue in the distance

Lap On Lagoon (the mountains are in nearby Laos)

Our next stop was at the early 20th century tomb of Emperor Khai Dinh.

The emperor is buried 50 feet below his statue

The dragon's teeth are filed down since the emperor is just a puppet of the French

We then visited the 17th century Thien Mu Pagoda.

In 1963, there was growing sentiment that the policies of the President of South Vietnam, Ngo Dinh Diem, were unfair to practicing Buddhists. A monk named Thich Quang Duc was living at this pagoda at the time and decided he would make a personal protest against these policies. He was driven from Hue to Saigon in a blue Austin car. Upon arriving at a major intersection near the presidential palace he sat down in the road, poured gasoline on himself and set himself on fire. Photographers captured the scene and this became the first of many self-immolations by Vietnamese monks. As a memorial, the car is still kept in a place of honor at the pagoda. 

The blue Austin with a photo of the scene on the back wall

From there, we crossed the Perfume River, and entered Hue's Imperial City.

Perfume River

Imperial Palace

These musicians play for the visitors

Our brief visit to Hue was interesting but there was almost no mention of the late 20th century and the fact that 80% of the city was destroyed and thousands of soldiers and civilians died during the Battle of Hue. It seems there is history here that no one is willing to talk about. Our young guide probably knows very little about events that took place almost 60 years ago but she did say that “War is terrible.” Amen to that!

Our guide, Van

Vietnamese coffee

Judy. Following a wonderful three day stop in Malaysia, a country we know and love, it was time to visit another country for the first time. We flew from Kuala Lumpur to Da Nang, Vietnam where a driver met us and took us by car one hour south to the lovely city of Hoi An. 

One of the first things that struck us was the unbelievable number of coffee shops that lined every street, but it took us a couple of days to realize that Cà Phê is cafe!

Cà Phê, and you can see, they use a phin

We have been to many countries that have a coffee culture. But I have never seen anything like the way the Vietnamese drink coffee! For years, one of my favorite iced coffees was what’s known in the States as Vietnamese coffee—iced coffee with condensed milk—yum! In Thailand, I tried to order it, but just got coffee with milk, or iced latte. 

But here—oh, my goodness! Yes, you can get “coffee with (condensed) milk,” but you can also get coconut coffee, salt coffee, egg coffee, even avocado coffee! I’m sure there are more! I’ve tried several of these. 

However, it starts way before all the flavors are added. The coffee here will knock you over, it’s so strong. In this country, they grow more robusta than arabica coffee. Robusta has far more caffeine, and is a dark, rich bean. The acidic soil here contributes to that; furthermore, it’s dark roasted, per the French (who were here for years). And true traditional Vietnamese coffee uses a special metal filter, called a phin filter, for each cup. 

Phin

Most of the flavored coffees are really sweet, and all use at least some condensed milk. That all started with the French, when milk was not only scarce, but spoiled quickly in the heat. 

Salt coffee started and is most popular in the city of Hue. It’s often iced, and is served with salted vegetable fat cream, condensed milk, and often, sugar. The salt cuts the bitterness of the coffee, and the end result tastes very much like salted caramel. It was good, but a bit sweet for me. 

Salt coffee, courtesy the internet

Egg coffee is out of this world—it tastes like coffee ice cream! An egg yolk is blended with condensed milk, sugar and vanilla are added, then the coffee carefully poured so that the froth rises to the top. Very rich, and hard to finish a whole cup. It originated in Hanoi.

Egg coffee--but most of the fancy coffees look like this!

I found coconut coffee (also often iced) to be delicious, and easiest to enjoy. Condensed milk is blended with coconut cream, and added to the coffee.

 

Coconut coffee, courtesy the internet

An up and coming flavor is avocado coffee—I’ve not tried that yet. Yogurt coffee is also sometimes touted. Both of these also use condensed milk. 

Avocado coffee, courtesy the internet

Recipes for any of them can be found on the internet, and, with the right coffee, are worth a try. 

My favorite, though, is at a little coffee shop, library, and classical music shop around the corner called Nich Tranh. 

A quiet coffee shop around the corner from our hotel

The making of "real" coffee

The owner serves very few versions of coffee, and takes it very seriously. Instead of the metal phin filter, he has a small paper filter for each cup. When he brings it to the table, he first pours a tiny bit of water in the coffee, so that the coffee “blooms”, then tells you to wait one to two minutes before pouring the rest of the water. He also brings two small glasses with ice (this is NOT a big serving), should you want iced cofee, and, if you like, a small pitcher of condensed milk to pour into the finished brew. To add to the experience, he plays classical music. You can sit outside on the patio, or inside in the library. It is a sweet, quiet, and special few moments. Today we told the owner about trying egg coffee. He made a face and shook his head. "Egg coffee is from Hanoi. Salt coffee is from Hue. Here, we make real coffee."

Kuala Lumpur Family

Judy. When our son Stefan was in college in Savannah studying animation, his best friend was a Malaysian guy named Adi, who was also in animation. We met Adi several times, and really liked him. He and his wife are both animators, and very talented. Nine years ago, when we started our pilgrimage journey, we visited him and his family in Kuala Lumpur. They immediately made us feel welcome. Over the years we’ve texted and emailed and WhatsApped, so when we decided to come to Asia, we knew we needed to visit them again. 

And what a visit! When we walked into Adi and Rina’s apartment, their boys, Bayu and Bumi, immediately called us Grandpa Ted and Grandma Judy, then grabbed Ted to tell him all about their video games while I caught up with their parents. 

Just like his American cousins, Bayu wants us to watch him play video games!

Hard not to jump across the table and hug Bumi and Bayu

The next day we all met Adi’s parents, Dani and Zamin, by the seaside for snacks, then for a fresh fish dinner at an open air restaurant. If we ever stopped talking, it was because we were eating. We so enjoyed being together and hearing about each others’ lives. We kept finding comparisons between their kids and Stefan and Sarah’s boys—they’re so much alike! 

Our whole gang--Adi, Oma Dani, Bumi, GrandpaTed, Bayu, Rina, me, and Aka Zamin!

Gangstas Ted and Bumi 

Good conversation and fresh fish--who could ask for more?

Rina, Bayu, Bumi, and Adi

With our Malaysian grandsons at the Wishing Tree

On our final day, Adi took us to an artisan’s co-op, where we met his good friend Allan, a charming, positive entrepreneur with a furniture workshop he runs with his wife. I did some shopping for handmade goods, we enjoyed a mango lassi with Allen, then headed back to the apartment to spend time with Rina and the boys, as well as with Dani, who drove over to say goodbye. Zamin had a prior commitment, and kept apologizing for not being there. 

A snack with Adi after our tour

Allan with some of his artwork at the co-op

I don’t know how we all managed to connect so closely, but the tears were flowing from all of us as we left. I so wish KL wasn’t so far away. Rina and I were a ridiculous sobbing mess. The boys wanted to know why we couldn’t stay. Dani and I talked about going to her hometown Jogjakarta, Indonesia, together somehow. And Adi hugged us both. Words can’t begin to express our connection with this dear, dear family.

Oma Dani and Grandma Judy