by Di Morrissey
‘Your very best student?’ asked Sandy.
‘Ask him if it’s for sale,’ said Anna.
Again the old man shook his head and gave Sandy a rapid explanation. Sandy’s eyes widened.
‘He says it’s genuine. Really old. A lot of plates like this were sent from Vietnam to China in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. He said he has learned a lot by studying it.’
‘Where did he get it?’ wondered Anna.
‘I’ll try to ask diplomatically.’
Sandy and Mr Thinh chatted some more and then Sandy thanked him and said goodbye, echoed by Anna.
‘So what did he say?’ asked Anna.
‘He says old pieces turn up in this area occasionally. Farmers dig them up in a field, but that one came from the sea.’
‘As in a shipwreck?’ asked Anna. ‘Or dropped overboard in the river perhaps?’
‘Could be. He said a young boy sold it to him. He wouldn’t give Mr Thinh any details. Mr Thinh has adapted the pattern for other pieces.’
In the street they spotted Kim outside a shop and he led them back to the car.
‘It won’t take too long to get to Halong Bay,’ said Kim. ‘We have to meet the people who run the boat trip. And I have a date with an old friend in Halong City before I go over to Cat Ba Island for the weekend, while you’re on the boat.’
Anna marvelled at the procession of rice paddies, lushly wet green, red mud bank arteries dividing paddies and directing life-sustaining water to the rippling green rice shoots. Some were tended by the lone figure of a farmer with oxen and plough, or by women bent over, occasionally a baby tied to their back. Others were empty save for a tiered stone family mausoleum in the centre, a monument where ancestors stayed close to their family.
They passed townships, villages, thatched huts hidden among palms, and waterways on which men and women in conical hats poled narrow open boats, fish farms, houses on stilts in marshy reaches and small temples. Everywhere families were on the move – by motorbike and scooter, bicycle and on foot.
Anna was disappointed to find Halong City a resort town of ugly high-rise apartments, hotels, holiday accommodation and casinos.
Sandy decided against visiting the resort of Cat Ba town next to Halong City, preferring the natural beauty of the bay. ‘Once we’re on the boat we’ll leave all this commercialisation behind,’ she promised Anna.
‘You two should come hiking with me,’ said Kim. ‘Cat Ba National Park is fantastic – there’s amazing wildlife, interesting caves like the one used as a secret hospital during the war, and very challenging hikes or walks.’
‘We’re thinking something more cruisey, thanks,’ said Sandy, knowing Kim’s penchant for difficult hikes. He dropped them near a long jetty stretching into the bay. ‘We’ll meet you on Sunday afternoon. Thanks for the ride,’ she said.
‘Are we on that?’ Anna pointed to the replica paddle steamer at the wharf. It was over fifty metres long, its three decks filled with international tourists and the French crew in crisp white uniforms. The paddle, just for show, was behind a swimming deck.
‘No way. We’re on the Harvest Moon. Captain Chinh’s old junk that he’s had renovated,’ said Sandy. ‘There are a lot of new junks being made just for tourist trips, but I like to go authentic where possible.’
‘I hope that means a loo,’ said Anna.
‘There he is, the yellow and red sails.’ Sandy pointed to a wooden junk with red sails and a yellow moon design on them that was manoeuvring its way to the jetty as the tourist-packed paddle steamer motored away.
They boarded on a wobbly plank laid from the jetty steps to the deck of the junk. A smiling young man swung their bags on board.
‘Meet Hung, new crew man. Good sailor,’ beamed Captain Chinh, giving Sandy a welcoming wave.
‘Anyone else coming along?’ asked Sandy, and Anna looked around, wondering where’d they’d fit anyone else given the space. But once she followed Hung below deck she was surprised at the space in the broad-beamed old vessel. Sandy and Anna shared a little cabin with two single berths and a good-sized porthole above. A shelf and a small dresser with deep drawers and a large carved storage box that smelled of sandalwood was big enough for their belongings. Off the room was a tiny compact ensuite with a toilet, basin and handheld shower.
‘Cute and comfy,’ observed Anna.
‘We’re lucky: there’s only one other person on board, an older Aussie fellow,’ said Sandy.
‘Do local people come on these trips?’ asked Anna. So far at the jetty she’d only seen foreign tourists. ‘Is there a local wealthy upper class taking to the water?’
‘You bet. We’ll probably spot some of the luxury boats that look like they’ve just left Monaco or the Riviera. Let’s go and sit on deck as we head out. You haven’t really seen what it’s all about.’
Hung settled them in sling-back deck chairs in the wide bow and handed them a glass of soft drink and woven conical stiffened cane hats with bright nylon ribbons attached to the inside.
‘Very practical and won’t blow off,’ said Sandy.
Anna was surprised at how light the hat was as she tied the ribbons under her chin.
Hung put a tray of crisps, tasty dried nuts and seeds, and some fresh fruit beside them and showed them where the icebox was, filled with cold drinks.
Captain Chinh, wiry with sun-crinkled skin, wearing voluminous shorts, a T-shirt and the ever-present conical hat, was in the stern guiding the Harvest Moon out into the bay when the other passenger came out and went to talk to the skipper and take some photographs. He was in a short-sleeved batik shirt and a battered cotton hat that reminded Anna of her dad’s old fishing hat.
Anna gazed at the striking scenery about her. She’d seen the ragged grey outlines of granite and limestone against the skyline, but as they left the horseshoe curve of the shoreline she realised they were sailing into a strange world of startlingly different geography. The sea was emerald and from its smooth surface exploded thousands of bare peaks eroded by sea and wind into craggy sculptures. Others rose out of the sea dripping dark green vegetation like a mantle over one shoulder. Another cluster looked like the gnarled fingers of a giant’s hand, the palm cupped below the surface.
‘It’s said a monstrous dragon ran to the sea from the mountains and his tail gouged out the landscape, which filled with water. Supposedly there are periodic sightings of the mythical marine monster – the tarasque,’ said Sandy.
‘Vietnam’s answer to the Loch Ness monster? I can believe there’s something down there – it’s so eerie,’ said Anna. ‘Beautiful, but mysterious.’
As the shore disappeared Captain Chinh cut the motor and, under sail, they glided between the strange monoliths. Leaving the steering to Hung he came up to the bow to introduce the other passenger.
The girls liked him immediately. He had speckled grey hair, an open friendly face and a well-modulated Australian accent. ‘I’m Tom Ahearn. Quite amazing, isn’t it?’ He nodded at the sheer grey sculptured walls rising out of the sea close to them.
‘Listen to the birds,’ exclaimed Anna.
‘We were thinking you could get lost among all the peaks and islands,’ said Sandy. ‘They look alike to us, but each peak is quite different when you study them.’
Captain Chinh smiled. ‘I know every place here. Lot of caves for tourists to see. Tonight we stop in special place. You see tomorrow, magic one. You take kayaks, okay?’
‘We’re up for a paddle,’ said Sandy, and Anna nodded.
‘Tomorrow you come with me, Tom. Hung watch boat.’ Captain Chinh had everything arranged, it seemed.
‘The water is like glass, more like a lake. But then it’s a really huge bay, and out there – the Tonkin Gulf,’ commented Tom. ‘You two travelling around the country?’
Sandy answered. ‘I’ve been living here for four years. It’s Anna’s first visit from Australia. I’m due to move back there so we’re being tourists. Your first time here?’ How many ti
mes had Sandy had this conversation with visitors who crossed her path at popular spots in Vietnam?
‘I was here in the war,’ said Tom. ‘Never got to the north, of course. What’ve you been doing here?’ he asked Sandy. So she told him about HOPE and he nodded. ‘Bloody good outfit. NGOs do a terrific job. Young people like yourself getting in and mixing it with the locals. Achieves more than some of the aid bureaucrats, I reckon,’ said Tom. ‘And, Anna, you have family ties here?’
Anna didn’t really want to talk about her family, but he asked so gently, so sensitively, that she said, ‘My mother’s family came from here. My mother was a refugee in Australia but she died when I was young.’
‘Sad start to a new life,’ he said gently. ‘When you say “here”, you mean this province or just Vietnam?’ asked Tom.
‘She was from the south, that’s all I know. I don’t know which village or anything. I’m just being a tourist with Sandy.’
‘Where’re you from, Tom?’ asked Sandy to shift the attention from Anna.
‘Sydney. Northern beaches. What about you?’
‘Anna and I grew up in Maroubra – we’ve known each other since kindy.’
‘Nice one,’ said Tom, grinning and leaning back in his seat. He then turned to Captain Chinh. ‘How long have you been in the tourist business? Did you refit the Harvest Moon or take over a going concern?’
‘This boat been in my family long time. We fishing people, do many things, always live near sea. Hung, my nephew, he learning tourist business at university,’ said Captain Chinh proudly. ‘His idea make this tourist boat. People better than fish,’ he laughed.
The girls exchanged an amused glance at Tom’s hearty burst of laughter.
‘You told me we’re having fish for dinner. Fresh, I hope?’ said Tom.
‘Hung catch this morning. He lives in fishing village over there, you see tomorrow.’
‘So he’s on university holidays?’ said Sandy. ‘Where’s he studying?’
‘Number one university in Hanoi. He work with me, make money for next year study,’ said Captain Chinh.
Tom excused himself to go to his cabin and unpack some of his gear. Captain Chinh went to the galley to prepare dinner. The girls moved to the stern to dip into the icebox near Hung.
‘Can I get you something, Hung?’ asked Sandy.
‘No, thank you. Help yourself. I put your drinks in there to keep cold,’ Hung added and Sandy opened the lid.
‘The white wine is chilling nicely. Looks like Tom brought some beer.’ Sandy handed Anna a lemonade. ‘So what are you studying, Hung?’
‘I’m in my second year of economics and business administration. I work with Uncle when I come back here in the breaks.’
‘Where’s your family?’ asked Anna.
He motioned over his shoulder. ‘In the village. It’s a fishing community; you’ll see tomorrow. Tourists like to go and look at it.’ He smiled.
‘It’s a small village with floating houses,’ said Sandy, thinking he’d come a long way from such a remote village to study at university and speak English as well as he did.
As if reading her mind Hung added, ‘I live with Uncle’s younger brother’s family in Hanoi. They took me in when I was young. I have brothers and sisters but I am first son so I was chosen to be educated.’
‘Congratulations. You must have been a smart kid,’ said Anna and they all laughed.
‘What is the word in English for too smart?’ asked Hung.
‘Precocious? No matter, you made your mark early. What do you plan to do?’ asked Sandy.
‘Tourism is big business in my country now. I would like to start my own travel company. For visitors coming here. But I would need much money. There are many places visitors never see. The national operators are good but I would like to make tours for small groups. Special trips to special places.’
‘For the niche market, you mean?’ said Anna and Hung smiled, filing the phrase away.
For the next hour he guided the Harvest Moon past the more spectacular monoliths, occasionally passing another tourist boat with an exchange of waves and smiles. He pointed to the paddle steamer in the distance.
‘Those big boats cannot get so close, or go through some of the narrow passages,’ said Hung. He pointed out one huge outcrop that had a small forest on top spilling down one side where soil had collected over the years. There was a scrap of rough beach with a sampan pulled up onto it.
‘There’s a roof in the trees. What’s that near the top?’ asked Anna as she glimpsed the late sun shining on a flash of gold.
‘It’s an old pagoda.’
‘Whose boat is that?’ said Sandy.
‘Maybe there’s someone visiting the old Buddhist nun who lives on the island.’ Hung steered the junk around the outcrop, which came between them and the setting sun, and busied himself adjusting the big red sail.
Tom joined the girls, helping himself to a bottle of local 333 beer. ‘Magic, isn’t it? Chinh says there’ll be a mist tonight. Make it interesting, eh?’
‘Creepy maybe. You mean we’re stopping round here?’ said Anna.
Before Tom could answer, Hung and Captain Chinh began reefing down the sails and with a splash, an anchor was dropped from the bow.
Because it was a still evening they decided to eat on deck rather than in the small saloon below. Hung set up a table and put a heavy tablecloth over the flat hatch cover to use as a serving table. Lanterns hanging from the rigging were lit and, along with the red and green mooring lights, they splashed the glassy surface of the still dark sea with sparkling streaks of colour.
‘Is this very deep here?’ asked Anna.
‘Very deep. Some places too deep to measure,’ said Captain Chinh.
‘It has a mysterious air about it, doesn’t it,’ said Tom.
Anna shivered. There were no other boats or lights in sight, just the looming peaks encircling them, dark against the evening sky.
Captain Chinh served them fried fish and grilled eggplant with spicy minced pork topped with fresh coriander, followed by bananas dipped in batter, fried, and sprinkled with sugar. Dinner was praised by all.
Candles in glass jars threw a soft light on the table as Captain Chinh accepted one of Tom’s beers. Sandy topped up the wine glasses as Hung took away their dishes.
Tom leaned back in his chair. ‘This is the way to appreciate a place. Chinh, you didn’t finish the story you were telling me. Sandy and Anna might be interested.’
Captain Chinh pulled a cigarette from his top pocket and lit it, then took a swallow of beer, enjoying the anticipation on the faces around the table.
‘Long time, long ago in Vietnam we have famous ladies . . . they fight for our country, we honour them in stories. Most famous is Kieu, very beautiful story, very sad. Also famous Trung sisters, one husband killed by Chinese and the sister start big rebellion and send Chinese out of Vietnam. But some years later Chinese come back and so sisters kill themselves drowning in a river.’ He took another drag on his cigarette. ‘And Lady Trieu, another very brave lady, she fight off Chinese invasion. She go to battle on elephant, all dressed in gold armour and white shoes made from elephant tusk – yes, ivory. Yes, she very brave lady, only nineteen.’
Only Nineteen. It brought back the echoes of Redgum’s song to Tom. He didn’t mention it; Sandy and Anna were probably too young to know it.
‘I’ve heard of The Tale of Kieu. A very famous epic love story,’ Sandy said to Anna.
‘Do tell,’ said Anna.
‘The scene is medieval times and this young girl sacrifices her own true love to save her family. Her life becomes a procession of lovers, husbands and bad men but her spirit remains pure, so she is finally reunited with her first love and her family.’
‘So a happy ending?’ asked Anna.
Captain Chinh and Sandy shook their heads.
‘No, some call her a prostitute, but, despite preserving her own spiritual honour, she can’t go back to the way it was b
efore. Only in her heart and memory,’ said Sandy.
‘Loss and nostalgia for what was. There’d be a lot of that after the war, wouldn’t you say?’ Tom asked Captain Chinh, who grasped the meaning of the question but struggled to find words to express his answer. Finally he summoned Hung, who translated the older man’s explanation.
‘Que huong means the village you come from, ky niem thoi tho au means young memories before bad times. These are things wished to go back to after the war. Vietnamese people are very family and community people, and being displaced and losing their home and relatives make them very sad,’ said Hung, looking at his uncle.
‘I’m thinking Kieu’s story sounds very contemporary,’ sighed Sandy. ‘There are a lot of lost young people in western society who have made choices that haven’t worked out but can’t go back.’
Captain Chinh rose and excused himself to check the boat then bunk down. ‘Hung stay here and watch the wind and the sea. But it will be safe. Very calm,’ he assured them.
‘Anyone for a cuppa? I brought some tea bags from home with me,’ said Tom.
‘I’m happy with the wine for now. But I’d love one in the morning, thanks, Tom,’ said Anna. ‘I can’t come at green tea for brekkie.’
After Tom bade them good night, the two friends sat on the deck watching the light of the rising moon glimmering behind what they’d named Pagoda Peak.
‘What’s that?’ Anna pointed to a faint drift of moonlit white swirling between the smaller peaks jutting from the sea around them. They watched it waft down and across the sea, blurring the crevices and intricately weathered cliff face closest to them, like a distant sprite.
‘It must be mist like Tom said. I feel the temperature dropping. I think I might hit my bunk,’ yawned Sandy.
‘This is looking scary. I remember years ago some old black-and-white movie on TV,’ said Anna. ‘There was a ghost ship, covered in moss and wispy white stuff floating in this weird fog; no one was on board. I think aliens had got them. This does seem like we’re on another planet.’
‘Oh, for god’s sake,’ laughed Sandy. ‘There’s probably a dozen boats around the corner. Most of them moor out here for the night. It’s a two-day excursion, remember.’
