Sam Mountain, An Giang Provence, Vietnam

Sam Mountain in the distance.

After an interesting breakfast where our order was lost in translation, we flagged down a moto-taxi to head toward our destination for the day. At first, he too didn't know what we were trying to tell him. Then I heard him say several times, “Nui Sam?”

“YES!” I said, nodding in agreement. The two of us hopped on the back of his motorcycle and soon our hair was blowing in the warm breeze as we passed occasional buildings and rice paddy fields. The ride was only a couple miles and he charged us 100,000 dong.

Sam Mountain is considered part of Chau Doc, but it is detached from the main village. Apart from visiting many of the shrines, it was my goal to climb to the top, which was supposedly the highest mountain in the Mekong Delta.

Our driver dropped us off at the foot of Sam Mountain, next to the Tay An Pagoda. This was a bustling little area with motorbikes and bicycles buzzing all around, shops lining the street, and vendors along the sidewalk. Not intending just yet to hike up the hill, we set out to explore the shrines.

Naturally, Tay An Pagoda became our first stop. The ornate building was orange in color, complemented with a creamy white. It appeared a cross between Buddhist and Hindu. The entrance was guarded with statues of elephants, lions and Buddhist deity figurines. Carved into the face of the building I saw what appeared to chrysanthemums, and along the trimming of the roof were lotus blossoms. Atop the pagoda stood an ornate tower with an onion dome.

An official description says it was built in 1847 and has elements of Cham, Vietnamese, Chinese and Indian cultures. I thought it interesting that the white elephant had six tusks protruding from his mouth.

Tay An Pagoda.

Just down the road we found our second holy building. This was the Ba Chua Xu Temple. Contrasted with the pagoda, this structure was more square in shape, with a greenish blue-tiled roof that was layered and flared at the corners. It was built in 1820.

Inside was an open-air walkway with nooks on the sides filled with shrines. Lotus blossoms, sticks of incense and other offerings sat on tables, I'm assuming to be sold to devotees. I saw several ladies around a tray of suckling pig. I didn't know if that was meant to be an offering, or lunch.

The Ba Chua Xu Temple is also known as the Holy Mother of the Realm. Legend has it that in ancient times the Holy Mother helped the villagers fight back the Siam army. She also blessed them with good weather and a rich harvest. Now worshipers will come to touch her statue and ask for her blessing and protection.

Ba Chua Xu Temple.

Across the street we found another place of worship. This one was the tomb of Thoai Ngoc Hau. Don't ask me how to pronounce his name. And if it weren't for the internet, I wouldn't even know who he was.

Thoai Ngoc Hau joined the army in 1777 at the age of 16. He was a military commander in 1802 at the beginning of the Nguyen Dynasty where he was instrumental in conquering the north. He also established several villages and canals in the area.

His tomb was enclosed inside a building that looked like every other shrine in the area. Atop a box was a sculpture of his head. Admirers came to give praise to the departed man.

Shrine and tomb of Thoai Ngoc Hau.

Now it was time to find a way up the mountain. This was no normal mountain. Most of it was covered in thick growth, shrines, and shacks lived in by locals. Supposedly there was a “trail” that went to the top, but we didn't know if that trail was dirt or concrete. If there was a sign pointing toward the trail, we probably didn't understand it. We quickly learned this would be a game of trial and error.

We walked up a set of stone stairs past shrines and what appeared to be tiny tombs. The path twisted and turned and soon I had completely lost my bearings. 

The path was also a bit sketchy. Often we came startling close to someone's home and dogs would begin to bark. I worried we were entering someone's living space. Once we passed a pet monkey in a cage that looked very sickly.

Cluster of tombs as we hike up the hill. 

Roaming dogs.

At one point we could see the top of the hill, but our meager trail fizzled out. It was near here where I first caught a glimpse of the next ridge over and saw what appeared to be the face of a giant stone Buddha. The inadequate view left much to be desired and we hoped to catch a better view later.

From our dead-end we retraced our steps to the bottom of the hill and began anew along another path. Now on this new path the way felt better. The trail seemed wider and we didn't seem to enter any private spaces. There were several stands off to the side offering hammocks and refreshments. Nearly all were empty. This must not be a popular time for pilgrims. In fact, we were the only pilgrims we encountered the entire day.

Interesting roots of a tree on the way up.

I should add that the rain was off and on the entire time. We used umbrellas as needed. The pathway was constantly wet.

At one point near the top we passed an uncommon vendor. They spoke no English. We bought two bottles of Pepsi for 40,000 dong and poured them into ice-filled glasses. Then we lounged in hammocks while sipping our drinks and enjoying the view. It was one of the highlights of the day and worth every dong we paid!

Jordan in the rain. 

A well-appreciated Pepsi break.

We continued our way, passing other shrines. At last we reached the top, which ended up being the most beautiful shrine of the entire hike. The complex consisted of several buildings, each painted red with intricate designs. This Buddhist temple seemed to have more of a Japanese style to it. The grounds were finely manicured with lush gardens and quaint ponds.

I was, however, disappointed that there was no 360° panoramic view at the top. There were several views along the way that offered vistas in different directions, including some that pointed toward the mountains of Cambodia. These at the top pointed toward the town of Chau Doc and the Bassac River.

Beautiful temple at the top of Sam Mountain. 

A red bridge crosses a pond at this Buddhist temple. 

A bathroom with a breeze!

At this point we were uncertain with the weather. There were serious storm clouds in the distance. The previous night we had a massive monsoonal downpour and didn't want to get stuck in something like that. Taking that into consideration, we decided to take the gondola down.

The gondola cost 90,000 dong each and required no effort. Rain splatters on the glass blurred much of the view, but we could see well the red-tiled roofs of the temples, the settlement of Sam Mountain, and the rising mount. I also caught a confirming glance of the giant stone Buddha head carved in rock on the far side of the mountain.

When we made it to the bottom I was determined to continue to the back side of the mountain. My first goal was to find the large stone Buddha, which we did within fifteen minutes of walking. It appeared to be under construction and I couldn't tell if it was a new sculpture, or if they were repairing the old.

This was our view of this stone Buddha on the gondola ride.

Once on the street, this is what it looked like. 

Along the way we passed a cemetery. I didn't know who was buried here, or whether they were important people. I also didn't know if the entombed were cremated, or embalmed and buried whole as they are in the West.

Each grave consisted of an above-ground tomb with a memorial on the front. In front of each memorial was a little shelf where family could place offerings. We used our phone to translate one of them and got the following: From the mother's grave, BUI THI CUC, Sunflower: 49 years old, Died 25-8 lunar month, Year of the Dog 1970.

Little cemetery on Sam Mountain.

Walking just down the street, we arrived at the Chua Phuoc Dien Pagoda, a beautiful temple set back within the trees of the hillside. A long set of stairs led to the temple complex, including a lotus pond and shrine to the Maitreya Buddha. Near the pond was a patio area with statues of the Four Heavenly Kings, who are Buddhist gods watching over the four cardinal directions.

Higher into the complex was the main hall where a traditional statue of Buddha sat atop a pedestal. Beyond this room is where things got interesting. An archway on the back wall led inside a dark tunnel with two stone snakes guarding the entrance. These serpents had the appearance of fire coming from their eyes and mouth. Further inside the tunnel came the sound of tumbling water and the sight of a fountain coming down the walls. Part of the stone floor was puddled with water. At the end of the short, but dark puddle was a shrine to three Buddhist figurines. The name of this place was The Cavern of Green and White Snakes.

Chua Phuoc Dien Pagoda, a very beautiful temple complex.

A second archway from the main hall led to a more extensive network of tunnels. Walking through here we entered a dark corridor and a stone staircase that led deeper into the cave. Water dripped from the top of the tunnel and we had to be careful not to slip on the rock. (We had to remove our shoes and socks at the entrance of the temple, so this entire time we walked in bare feet.)

This obscure tunnel snaked inside the cavern and at one time made a fork. We thought for a moment we might become lost inside the maze. As we walked we passed small shrines housed within a small cavity. The tunnel then opened up into a larger cavern with several shrines. This section was lit up with lights. At last the dank tunnel system came to an end and we were again outside in the fresh air, but in a new, unfamiliar section of the temple complex.

Buddha inside Phuoc Dien Pagoda.  The entrance to the cave is the archway on the right.

There is a story associated with the Phuoc Dien Pagoda. Around the 1840's the pagoda was just a bamboo and leaf hermitage. It was built by a lady named Le Thi Tho, whose dharma name was Dieu Thien. (A dharma name is given by a Buddhist teacher to a student to symbolize his or her commitment to the Buddhist path.) She built it as a place to practice.

In 1836 she became a nun, and in 1839 she received the Bhikkhuni precepts, which are a set of rules, or code of conduct for Buddhist nuns. In 1845 she decided to live in seclusion, so she chose Sam Mountain as her place of practice.

Next to her hermitage was a deep mountain cave where there lived two pythons. These snakes were known to be fierce, but when Dieu Thien moved in, they did not harm her. Instead they came next to her, lied still, and listened to her recite sutras.

After her death the local people donated money and rebuilt the pagoda. Over the many years that followed there were several renovations and improvements until the temple complex became what it is today.

We finished our visit and found several more beautiful gardens, statues, and shrines. Being that we were on a hill, there were amazing views across rice paddy fields and mountains, both of Vietnam and Cambodia. Jordan and I both agreed that this temple was probably the most fascinating thing we had seen up to that point on our trip.

More beautiful gardens and ponds at the temple complex.

Looking toward Cambodia and flooded ground from monsoon rains.

By this time we were starving. Next to the cemetery was a nice little outdoor eating place with aluminum tables and plastic chairs. Only one other family was eating there.

I told Jordan we were going to order the dish advertised. A picture with a name was posted on the wall: Vit Nau Chao. Once again, the lady trying to help us knew no English. We figured things out and sat at a table.

Twenty minutes later she brought a large ceramic pot of Vit Nau Chao on a small propane stove. This would be a hot pot. She also served a large plate of angel hair noodles and another of greens. She gave us chili sauce and small bowls. We figured things out and finished nearly everything except most of the greens.

Soon we were stopped by a motorcyclist, asking if we wanted a ride. After five minutes of charades and pointing to places on Google Maps, the two of us hopped on the back of his bike and sped back to Chau Doc. ♠

Vit Nou Chou, served via hot pot.

The Day the Devil Came to the Logan Temple

Marriner Wood Merrill was no stranger to the miracles of God. As a boy of nine years old growing up in New Brunswick, Canada he beheld a vision in which he saw into the future. Although he didn't understand everything at the time, in this vision he saw Joseph Smith, Brigham Young (both of whom he had never met), the Saint's journey to the west, and the practice of polygamy. 

In 1852 he was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints by missionaries in New Brunswick. 

Soon after that he joined the Saints on their westward trek to Utah Territory. During this journey while on the plains he witnessed another miracle. While attempting to swim across the Platte River to retrieve strayed cattle he lost his strength and began to be pulled under by the heavy current. He was almost to the point of drowning when suddenly a sandbar formed beneath his feet. He stood there safely until someone was able to come and rescue him. Suddenly, the sandbar disappeared. Marriner felt confident that the hand of God had saved his life. 

Statues of the pioneers on their journey to the West.

Three years passed and he was now establishing himself in the Salt Lake Valley. On a cold day in January 1856, Marriner was loading five large logs that would be used to make houses onto a sled. The ground was very slippery. He had one log loaded and as he turned to load the second, the first shot out and struck him hard, pinning him atop the other logs. The log that pinned him down was ten inches in diameter and twenty-two feet long. He could scarcely breathe, let alone move. 

He was sure that he would die a cold death there on the mountain with no one else around. An earnest prayer poured from his heart as he plead with the Lord to help him in this dire situation. He continued the attempt to extricate himself, but to no avail. Within a short period of time he began to fade and lose consciousness. 

When he finally came to, he was about a mile down the trail and sitting atop an orderly stack of five logs. His ax was lodged in the top log and his whip lay at his side. The oxen pulled the load as if nothing strange had happened. Marriner attempted to move, but could not budge due to the soreness of his body.

Later in his autobiography he said: “Who it was that extricated me from under the log, loaded my sled, hitched my oxen to it, and placed me on it, I cannot say.” 

Many years passed and Marriner Wood Merrill dedicated his life to the building up of the church. He moved to northern Utah where he served as bishop in Richmond for eighteen years. He was successful in farming, raising stock and the milling industry. With this he supported his eight wives and forty-five children. 

In 1884 he became the first president of the Logan Temple, which was just a three-hour buggy ride from Richmond. In 1889 he was ordained an Apostle. 

Hattie Merrill Morrison Farmstead in Richmond, Utah.  Hattie is the daughter of Marriner,.

Marriner Wood Merrill.

During the days of polygamy raids, Marriner lived in his bedroom on the second floor of the west tower of the Logan Temple. There were periods when he didn't leave the building for several weeks. 

During this time he relied on his son, Marriner Wood Merrill Jr., to take care of things at home. You can imagine his despair when his son passed away from illness at the young age of forty-two. Marriner felt that God had betrayed him. He was busy doing the Lord's work and his son was taken when he needed him most. 

His attitude changed, however, when one evening his son appeared to him in his bedroom in the temple. “Pa,” he said, “I am where the Lord wants me to be. I have been called home to preach the gospel to the people you are doing the temple work for. This work is more important than anything I could be doing on earth, and it is not pleasing to the Lord for you to grieve as you are doing over my death.” 

Needless to say, Marriner never grieved again over his son's death, nor did he complain about hardships in life. His testimony of the work in the temple grew tremendously. 

Logan Temple.

Perhaps this experience prepared him for the next. During the final decade of his life President Merrill had an encounter in the Logan Temple that is unlike any encounter I've ever read about. The following is an excerpt from a work written on the first hundred years of the Logan Temple: 

“Logan Temple President Marriner W. Merrill was sitting in his office one morning in the early 1890's when he heard a commotion outside. Stepping to the window, he saw a great congregation of people coming up the temple hill, some on foot and others on horseback and in carriages. President Merrill's first thought was, 'What will we do with so many people? If we fill every room in the temple, it will not begin to hold them all.' 

“The riders tied their horses up on the hitching posts or turned them loose on the temple corrals, and walked complacently about the front grounds, without seeming to have much purpose in mind. They were a rather odd looking group, and were dressed quite shabbily. 

Sketch of Logan Temple.

“They made no effort to enter the temple, so President Merrill went out to greet them and see what he could do for the group. He said to the leader: 'Who are you, and who are these people who have taken possession of the temple grounds unannounced?' 

“He answered: 'I am Satan, and these are my people.' Brother Merrill asked: 'What do you want and why have you come here?' Satan replied: 'I don't like what is being done in the Logan Temple and have come to stop it.' That was a bit of shock to President Merrill, and he answered: 'No, we will not stop it. This is the work of the Lord and must go on. You know that you or anyone else cannot stop the work of the Lord.' 

“'If you refuse to stop it, I will tell you what I propose to do,' the adversary said. 'I will scatter this congregation of people throughout these valleys, and we will keep people from coming to the temple. We will whisper in their ears and discourage them from attending the temple. We will stop your temple work.' 

“President Merrill then used the power of the priesthood and commanded Satan and his followers to depart from holy ground. He said that within four or five minutes there was not a person, horse or buggy in sight. They just disappeared into thin air and were gone.” 

For the next ten to twelve years the work in the Logan Temple was very slow. Satan worked hard to thwart efforts of those going to the temple. There are several accounts of people intending to go, but at the last minute something happening so they couldn't. Still they pushed forward and often finished their journey to the House of the Lord. 

Nolan Olsen, writing on the first 100 years of the Logan Temple, put it this way: “The evil one's power and influence are real. He knows the value of temple work and would do anything in his power to keep people away. But he failed to recognize the faithfulness and devotion of the Saints in this area, for they were not easily discouraged.” ♠ 

 

Grave of Marriner Wood Merrill in Richmond City Cemetery.

 



Sources 

“Marriner Wood Merrill (biography),” Family Search, online. 

Merrill, Melvin Clarence. Utah Pioneer and Apostle Marriner Wood Merrill and His Family. Marriner Wood Heritage, 1980. 

Olsen, Nolan. Logan Temple: The First 100 Years. 1978. 

“Preaching to the Dead.” Family Search, online. (On “Memories” of Marriner Wood Merrill.)

Phnom Penh

We arrived on a bus from Saigon after a seven-hour journey. The border-crossing into Cambodia was quite tedious, but once safely through we noticed a distinct difference from Vietnam. There were now tuk-tuks and Buddhist temples. Motorbikes were less prevalent. More rubbish littered the roadways and the roads themselves were less maintained. Everything seemed dustier. Khmer script had replaced Vietnamese writing on the store-fronts. The atmosphere became more rural and suddenly there were water buffalo loitering in the fields. 

About an hour and a half later we crossed the mighty Mekong River, and soon after that we began arriving in the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh. 

Phnom Penh is a beautiful city. Buddhist temples dot the cityscape, mingled with skyscrapers scattered in random fashion. Tuk-tuks on the street give an older vibe. Wide boulevards are a reminder of the French colonial period. We came during the cool air of the rainy season. 

On our first full day in Phnom Penh we hired a tuk-tuk driver to take us around town. (This was the best decision we made our entire trip. He ended up being our guide for the next three days.) We sat in the back of the tuk-tuk, moving at a leisurely pace with a fresh breeze at our face while enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. 

Thai, our tuk-tuk driver.

The colors of Phnom Penh are amazing: the Buddhist temples with their red and yellow walls, and golden spires; the orange robes of the monks; the dirty brown of the Mekong; the maroon, silver and blue corrugated roofs of the shacks at the water's edge; the white and navy blue uniforms of the school kids; the cerulean sky; the gray of the clouds. These were sights never to forget!

We crossed the Tonle Sap River onto a narrow peninsula that also straddled the Mekong. We stopped at a Buddhist temple with an elaborate staircase consisting two mythological golden snakes along the sides. Beneath the balustrade at the center of the stairs were four Dharma wheels, each representing the eight righteous practices taught by Buddha. This golden staircase led to the main worshiping hall. We were almost the only visitors there. Frescoes on the walls and ceiling told numerous stories. A lady knelt and worshiped near the Buddha while a monk entered to offer prayers. 

My favorite place, however, was across the road at the old Royal Palace. According to our driver, the kings lived there 200 years ago. The building was now locked and abandoned, but what fascinated me most was the nearby cemetery. This was the first burial ground I had seen in Asia. Most of the graves were in the form of large conical monuments called stupas. I didn't know if these were burials of the royal family, or monks and nuns. 

Old Royal burial ground.

Frescoes on the walls of the temple.

Stone sculpture in the National Museum of Cambodia.

Buddhist grave and temple on outskirts of Phnom Penh.

Another thing that struck me about Phnom Penh was the friendliness and openness of the people. Thai, our driver, was extremely friendly and always carried a big smile. 

On our way to another temple, while in the back of the tuk-tuk, we were accosted by a couple school boys who hopped in to hitch a ride. They weren't shy at all. Jordan put his arm around one and they stayed with us until the driver shooed them out. 

When we arrived at the temple there was a boy and girl who quickly became our buddies. The girl jumped onto Jordan's back and demanded a piggy-back ride around the grounds. She would get restless and jump off, but a minute later was climbing back on. Then she would grab onto my arm and I would swing her around. The boy demanded that we buy peanuts from his father so we could feed the resident monkeys. We paid 2,000 riels for a small package and the monkeys came right down from the trees. We stretched out our arms and they ate directly from our hands.—But when it was time to go, the two young kids rubbed their bellies and held out their palms. They wanted a hand-out. 

This scenario played out another time as we sat at an outdoor restaurant, waiting for our food to come. Three kids, who appeared to have just gotten out of school because they still had their backpacks, came begging for money. They stood at our table for five minutes straight in silence with their hands pressed together in prayer position. They stayed until the owner shooed them away. 

A schoolboy hitches a ride on our tuk-tuk.

These kids aren't shy at all.

The resident monkey eats peanuts from my hand.

This friendly girl wanted a piggy-back ride.

Smiling monks outside the National Museum of Cambodia.

We passed this cute boy on a street in Phnom Penh.

A visit to Phnom Penh would not be complete without an understanding of the Cambodian Genocide and its impact on the local population. It was 1975 when Pol Pot, the communist leader of the Khmer Rouge, led his troops and seized the capital city. They proceeded to evacuate the citizens by force to the countryside where they would live as farmers. The goal was to create a pure and self-sufficient peasant society by eradicating the urban and educated classes. 

During the next four years over 1.7 million citizens—a fourth of the population of Cambodia—would die from starvation, forced labor, torture or execution. Many were brought to Tuol Sleng Prison in Phnom Penh, a former schoolhouse transformed to interrogate and house prisoners. After being kept in squalid conditions, they were shipped a few miles away to the Killing Fields where they were executed and buried in shallow graves. 

The prison, also known as S-21, is now the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Walking through the rooms is a humbling experience. The small brick cells where prisoners slept are still intact. Thousands of black and white booking photos are on display—men, women and children who would eventually be killed. Tools used for torture are laid out. The final room exhibits skulls of some of the deceased. 

Nineteen seventy-five wasn't that long ago. Most of the people here have direct connections with someone who was killed. Thai, our tuk-tuk driver, had his parents and at least one sibling who were killed. He was raised an orphan and has no memory of his family. 

Interrogation room at Tuol Sleng Prison in Phnom Penh. The prison now serves as a museum.

Mug shots of those sent to Tuol Sleng Prison.

Shanty dwellings extend to the river's edge.

Anywhere in the world where I travel, I always make sure to visit as many markets as possible. This includes small family-owned stores, neighborhood grocery stores, and major city markets. In Phnom Penh, Central Market is the major hub where vendors of all kinds come to sell their wares. 

Nearly everything is sold there, from appliances to apparel. We found t-shirts for two American dollars each. Jordan found pants for his girlfriend and I bought a couple hard-to-find postcards. 

For me, the heart of a market is where the food is, and this one didn't disappoint: fish, herbs, fresh fruit, strange desserts. Want food on a stick? Try squid or prawns or . . . frogs! 

We wanted to be sure to visit the night market also, which opened only after 5 pm, and was located in a different venue from Central Market. The market sat in open-air, but was protected from the elements by individual awnings. At first, nothing appeared special about this market. Booth after booth of clothing was typical of any market in the world. But then we came to the food court. 

Instead of tables and chairs to sit on, there were colorful mats laid on the ground. The customer removed his shoes and ate comfortably with his plate on the floor. We ordered Lort Cha, a stir-fry with rice pin noodles and beef. 

By the time we were done with the market, the rain was coming down at a slow, but constant drizzle. We walked a mile in the dark to the hotel, I with an umbrella and Jordan with damp hair. 

Fatigued worker at Central Market.

People eat on mats at the Night Market in Phnom Penh.

Phnom Penh is a river city. It is bordered by the Tonle Sap, Mekong, and Bassac Rivers. It is considered the beginning of the Mekong Delta, meaning that instead of tributary branches that flow into the river, there are distributary branches which run out. The river system is an important source for fishing, which contributes immensely to local cuisine. 

In front of the Royal Palace, along the edge of the Mekong, is a riverside pedestrian walk, and at this point the river is nearly a mile in width. It is a lovely place to sit down and enjoy the breeze and view, watching people in their own environment. In the river there are fishing boats and patches of water hyacinth floating slowing with the current. 

When we were there we watched a group of boys fishing with a stick and piece of string. Even a monk, dressed in orange robes, found time to enjoy the spectacle. 

It wasn't surprising to see the monks because across the street was Wat Ounalom, a Buddhist monastery that is over 500 years old. We walked into the courtyard and found a lady feeding pigeons by tossing bird-feed onto the plaza. Shortly afterward a young boy raced through with his toy car into the flock of feeding pigeons and a couple mooching roosters. 

As we moseyed through the courtyard we came to an adjacent building where a dance class was being held among the youth. The face of the building was open so we could watch from outside. The music was a gentle traditional melody and the boys and girls walked slowly, but deliberately, in a circle while contorting their hands and feet in a specific manner. The instructor was strict, often slapping the hands of the dancers if their movements were not exact. The dancers wore sampots around their waist and moved with bare feet. 

It was interesting to watch. They practiced with strictness and exactness, displaying that Asian discipline that is often frowned upon back home. I admired their devotion to learning a traditional dance. I don't know if this was compulsory or voluntary, but either way, their culture was being handed down. 

Locals use a stick to fish in the river.

A lady feeds the pigeons at Ounalom Temple.

Youth learn a traditional dance.  They are wrapped in sampots.

We arrived in Phnom Penh on bus, but we would leave by boat. We had spent four days in the Pearl of Asia and it was now time to bid adieu. A four-hour journey would bring us back into Vietnam.

In all my days of traveling, perhaps my favorite city I've ever visited has been Phnom Penh. It was an unexpected surprise. There was a blend of old and new, Buddhist temples, monkeys, tuk-tuks, perfect temperatures, harrowing history and exotic markets. As someone who wants to waste no time seeing the world, there are very few places I would prefer to see a second time. But Phnom Penh is one of those places. ♠

 

 

Chinatown—Saigon

Sanshan Hokkien Temple, Ho Chi Minh City.

We did something we had never done before. The two of us piled onto the back of a moped, trusting our taxi driver to take us through the crazy streets of Saigon. Two-wheeled vehicles are the preferred means of transportation here and it is not uncommon to see three, and sometimes four people on a bike.

He drove us four miles, weaving in and out of traffic until he dropped us off at Bình Tây Market in the heart of Chinatown. 

The emergence of the Chinese in present-day Vietnam dates back to 1664 with the collapse of the Ming Dynasty. During subsequent years many Chinese fled the Motherland. In 1778 some of them took refuge near present-day Ho Chi Minh City due to a fear of retaliation for their support of the Nguyen Lords. In 1782, more than 10,000 of them were killed in what is known as the Tay Son Massacre. 

This Chinese community became its own village, known then and now as Cho Lon. Over the years it has been absorbed into Saigon, but retains much of the original Chinese flavor. It is now the largest Chinatown in Vietnam. 

Chaotic street just outside Binh Tay Market in Saigon.

Aromas come from all directions. 

Inside of Binh Tay Market.

Motorbikes are the principle means of transport in Saigon.

I don't even know how to begin describing Cho Lon. The smells are different. Maybe it's the herbs, the scent of fresh fish, the dank alleyways, the humidity, the incense. I don't know. 

There is the Chinese script that is everywhere, the lanterns, the different foods and Chinese temples. There is an older feel to it, as if you stepped back in time fifty years. 

Chinatown is not confined to a block, or any small space, but spreads in all directions, and there is no distinction as to where it begins or ends. The substance of Chinatown is a blend between Chinese and Vietnamese culture, making it difficult for the casual stranger such as myself to distinguish between the two. 

Fresh ingredients waiting to be used.

Taking a break at a park in Chinatown.

Food cart attached to a motorbike.

Our first stop was into the heart of Cho Lon: Bình Tây Market. This chaotic hub is arguably the best in Ho Chi Minh City. The market building itself had two stories, but vendors spilled out into the streets. The place was packed with fresh produce and food stalls. 

Compared with the other major market in Saigon, this one had no tourists and vendors were not at all pushy. Much of the space was devoted to practical items such as cookware, towels, blankets and the like. No souvenir items at all. 

The food section was sensory overload. There were so many smells and so many foreign foods that I couldn't comprehend them. I didn't even know most of what I was seeing. 

Pet rooster on the sidewalk.

A seller of headstones.

Chinatown felt like Saigon, but crazier and more chaotic. There seemed to be less room, more traffic, and more congestion. Sidewalks often had no room because they were filled with vendors and parked motorbikes, leaving the wary traveler at his own peril to walk along the edge of the street with traffic whizzing by just inches away. 

Of course, we had to eat Chinese food while in Chinatown. Not being too familiar with either Chinese or Vietnamese cuisine, it was difficult to distinguish between the two. We settled on a restaurant serving dim sum, a name referring to small Chinese dishes. I ordered dumplings filled with shrimp, which I ate with chopsticks and dipped in an unknown sauce.―Later in the afternoon we stopped at another restaurant and ordered wonton soup. 

It was while eating wonton soup that we experienced our first Vietnamese rainstorm. We stayed safely dry within the recess of the restaurant while fat drops of water fell from the smoggy Saigon sky. No one missed a beat. Pedestrians and motorists alike donned colorful rain ponchos and continued on their way. Within five minutes, it was over. This was a tease of what was later to come. It was monsoon season here in Southeast Asia. 

Dim sum.

Wonton soup.

No visit to Chinatown would be complete without a visit to one of the many temples. We visited three altogether, and all were similar, but unique in their own way. Common to all were the incense, the intricate sculptures, fine paintings, Chinese script and solemn atmosphere. 

The most iconic was Thien Hau Pagoda, built in 1760 by Chinese immigrants from Guangzhou. It was dedicated to the goddess, Lady Thien Hau, who gives blessings of prosperity and health on fisherman, sailors and others who travel on the sea. The new immigrants believed they had been helped by her during their travels to Vietnam, and thus built a house of worship in her honor. 

The main room was the Black Hall where there was a statue of Lady Thien Hau, as well as spiraled incense hanging above and sticks of incense in large pots. There were several red pillars with Chinese characters. As with all the temples, there were many intricate sculptures, both in the halls and outside on the grounds. 

The Black Hall of Thien Hau Pagoda with spiraled incense hanging above.

Courtyard of Ong Bon Temple.

Detail on Thien Hau Pagoda.

Pots of incense inside a Chinese temple.

One thing that amazed me about Saigon, but also Chinatown, was the innumerable amount of narrow side-streets that wound their way between buildings. They reminded me of the narrow slot canyons back home. But people live here. They park their motorbikes outside. If you peek inside, you can catch a glimpse of their humble living quarters. Although small, they keep them well decorated with plants.

One of the oldest alleyways in Chinatown is Hau Si Phuong, with two levels of colorful homes. When we visited, all was quiet. A man sat shirtless outside his door and a solitary scooter passed through. That was it. Wrought-iron railings surround the second-level balcony. Clothes were hung out to dry and plants decorated near the front door. Some had a rooster in a cage. This alley is over 100 years old and retains much of its original beauty. 

Hau Si Phuong Street, one of the oldest in Saigon's Chinatown.

Pharmacy of traditional Chinese medicine.

Along a street corner we found a pharmacy that sold traditional Chinese medicine. I stood and observed for a few minutes, watching many customers come and go. The shop was small—like almost every shop in Saigon—stacked with small boxes and bags of herbs. Some were behind a glass sliding door that a lady had to unlock. As I observed I became curious about this traditional art of healing, and wished I had known more. But, for now, a quick glimpse would have to suffice. 

Unlike our four-mile motorcycle taxi ride that brought us to Chinatown, we ended up walking the entire distance—and then some—back to our hotel. The Chinese script, the lanterns, the dim sum—they gradually faded out and were replaced with the usual din of Ho Chi Minh City. ♠