Encountering Cambodia and Vietnam - Cuc Phuong National Park, Friday 2016 March 4
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Aquaduct
The unconscious beauty of agricultureTo write these notes I am lying on my bed in the Park’s Guest House inside a mosquito net. Inevitably I am reminded of my long-ago days in Yola in Nigeria, where large insects beat against the netting. So far I haven’t seen a mosquito here. Thuy warned us this is a “basic” hotel, although it is about the same as last night’s hotel - without the pretentiousness.
This morning Thuy was so uncertain that the Duc Tai Hotel staff could prepare a western breakfast that she was planning to cook eggs for each of us to our taste. Carol said that was ridiculous – the western way was that if a lot of people had to eat breakfast at the same time, they all ate the same food, in this case scrambled eggs. She even offered to do the cooking, since she had been a camp cook. Just after our 6:30 call to breakfast, Carol marched off with Thuy to the kitchen, and I followed to video the extraordinary event. The kitchen staff were quite curious and didn’t seem to be insulted by this invasion. Carol started breaking fresh, deep yellow eggs (shells were tough she said), until Thuy
Ho Chi Minh Road
No sign of history counselled her to break each egg into a small bowl to check that it wasn’t bad. To my surprise, Carol didn’t know about this practice, which was common when I was young. Thus, Thuy took over the egg breaking, and Carol dumped them into the bowl. When the chef wanted to take over to do the beating, she took his chopsticks and did it herself. She had the staff fetch a large wok at my suggestion, because their frying pans were small, plus I thought it would make a better picture. With gusto and expertise she adjusted the flame and produced perfect scrambled eggs. The only mix-up was Thuy’s asking if she wanted some mango, meaning for the eggs, and Carol saying yes, meaning for the table. When we finally arrived back at the dining table, there were pineapple, bananas, dragon fruit and the mangoes.
">View the video of making breakfast.
Our 7:30 start was particularly early because we had about 500 kilometres to drive – a long day on the bus. With our agreement, Thuy expounded on the state of nationalism in Vietnam and
Feng Shui, which she seemed to sincerely believe. She considered the country to be halfway between communism and nationalism, selecting
Rice fields near Minh Son
Moving into the mountains what is best from each. The best practices of capitalism are now being included in the mix. The government is less and less dictatorial. Although legally equal for decades, women are still subject to men’s decisions. She has talked about the “three follows”: before marriage, follow the father’s decisions; during marriage, follow the husband’s decisions; during widowhood, follow the eldest son’s decisions. She admitted to being conservative and that her friends did not all behave as she does. She didn't want to disappoint anyone. Thuy explained herself: “In my work, I adopt the new. In my family life, I keep to the old.”
Out the window, the land was breathtakingly beautiful. Again the sky was dull with clouds; however, bright green paddies outlined in dark lines attracted my eyes. Farm houses and tiny communities punctuated the lushness. We have noticed that many men wear some military garments and hats while working, presumably left over from the war. Thuy stopped near one for a photo opportunity.
Excited, we jumped out to take pictures of a man resting on his buffalo-powered plough in the paddy. In the neighbouring paddy, a woman was replanting seedlings. Thuy talked to them, discovering that
Rice farmer and villagers
Farmer holds bundles of seedlings. Inset - a basket of seedlings. they were mother and son; after a short while, the husband came along the road, wanting his photo taken and to see the photo. I obliged, and he shook my hand firmly and with great enthusiasm. The son took up the ploughing again so we could take even more pictures. Some other village women came along, dressed in nice clothes – for this event? One had been chewing betel nut, and smiled widely with her red lips and purple teeth. After we were all satisfied, Thuy passed over a few packages of sweet sesame brittle and peanut brittle as a thank you.
Tea plantations appeared in a hilly region. We had another photo stop, but the woman on the farm kept her distance. Across the road a group of women were packaging raw cotton into plastic bags from bales. Thuy thought this was done for mushroom growing.
After another hour or so, when we were all getting hungry, the bus stopped and turned around. We thought the driver was lost again, but it was Thuy who confessed to having missed the restaurant, back about half an hour. When we reached it, she continued to apologize, but in her
defence, the restaurant had improved beyond recognition. It was an outdoor establishment, with a large roof for protection from the weather. Most notable features were the chickens in a cage, a piglet in a cage, and fish in a tank – dinner tonight?
By now we had entered areas with sugar cane cultivation for a large sugar factory and milk cows supplying a large milk processing plant operated on international standards. Small farmers cared for the cows and grew the cane. The leaves of the cane were used by the farmers for cattle feed and for thatching roofs. Later in the day, I saw cane fields being harvested – a nasty job from all accounts. Sugar cane and cassava were grown together (tall stalks and short plants), and the cassava was chopped and dried for cattle feed.
A factoid passed on by Thuy: Vietnam is named for the Viet tribe that lives south (nam) of the Yangtze River, to distinguish themselves from the Chinese, who coveted their land.
During the whole bus ride there was much snacking on the nut brittles, sticky rice candy in little sheets, tiny mandarin oranges, and odd sesame crackers about 15 inches
Rice fields
Conjunction of traditional and modern in diameter. These goodies were bought at our pit stops and lunch break. On the bus, Thu told a joke at my expense. When “xin chao” is said with a falling accent, it means hello. When it is (mistakenly) said with a rising accent (as Canadians tend to speak), it means “give me a bowl of rice soup”. Gales of laughter!
By the time we turned off the highway onto the road to the Park, we were more than ready to get off the bus. The first part of this smaller road was potholed and frightened us about what was to come. Actually, the road improved to a narrower version of the main road. Another half hour or so brought us to
Cuc Phuong National Park, opened by Ho Chi Minh before the war was finished, the first national park for the country. Although considered a remote area, there were shops and homes and construction right up to the park gate. The Guest House dated from about 1990. It consisted of several yellow and white modest buildings set in an informal garden. Some of us joined Thuy before dark on a mild walk through the woods to Ma Lake, where the dusk
Cuc Phuong National Park
Quiet historic rest house in the forest disappeared into the shades and shadows of the forest. When we returned, we joined the others in drinking beer as darkness did fall, and then in having dinner. Thuy now ensures I have fish sauce with dinner, a true Vietnamese.
View map of trip to date.
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Isabel Gibson
non-member comment
You got some nice reflections in the rice fields, and the video of making breakfast is fun. I'm trying to imagine what would happen here if a tour-group member offered to cook! The shots of the transport vehicles and of ploughing the fields with water buffalo (?) are also very good. It's such a long way from our farming practices.