Slipping Pretty with the Commune Leaders

On Sunday I hiked to Da Ban waterfall, one of the areas that we may develop as a community-based tourism site. I took my cue from Chi Sen and the others as to what was appropriate hiking attire. I should really know by now that the Vietnamese are much more agile than me, and the fact that Chi Sen was not in her usual dress heels should have set off warning lights in my brain not to wear flip flops. I wore the flip flops for maybe half an hour before retiring them to my backpack and gracefully slipping and sliding over the slick creek boulders in my bare feet. Pretty early on I fell and landed in a sitting position in the middle of the creek, soaking my clothes to my chest. The commune leaders (who were wearing nice shirts, slacks, and dress shoes) were nice enough to say that I fell "prettily." The hike followed a creek deep within the jungle-type forest with several waterfalls along the way. A few of the hikers stopped from time to time to collect crabs and shrimp in empty water bottles. After the hike we stopped at a restaurant and feasted on the hike's catch while toasting each other with more rice wine.

Today I went to the park and talked to an official there about the plans to develop Phong Nha Ke Bang for tourism. Under proposal is a day trip that would take tourists on a horse cart ride on the main road that circles a portion of the park. This road hits a few sites like an underground cold spring and a war memorial and temple to youth volunteers killed in a bombed cave. The cart ride would then stop at a point along the river where the rest of the trip would be a kayak ride down the river visiting the cave I saw the other day and ending with a boat ride to the main attraction of the park, Phong Nha cave. We took this trip in a jeep and a motorboat. Phong Nha cave is immense. I could not get a decent picture in the larger rooms because my powerful flash cannot extend far enough. As we traveled farther and farther into the cave which was lit by brightly colored florescents, I felt as though I was living the frightening boat trip scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (Gene Wilder version). It was surreal.

The youth volunteer memorial was a somber stop amid the breathtaking scenery. Eight Vietnamese sought shelter in the cave during American bombing when the cave collapsed. Some of them survived for nine days screaming for help but rescuers were unable to reach them. The site was finally excavated in the 90's and it was found that four of those killed were youth volunteer girls, the youngest being 18. I followed Chi Sen's example and lit incense and bowed in front of the alter built to honor those killed there as well as all youth volunteers killed during the war. Learning about the other side of the war is fascinating but devastating. It is strange to think that the commune leaders that I am working with probably fought my countrymen not that long ago and had friends and family members killed in the conflict. Sometimes I don't know how to feel about my being an American working in Vietnam. I guess I am simply grateful that it seems to be a non-issue with all of the Vietnamese I work with and have met.

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