Tuesday, April 3, 2001. Sai Gon VN
A bit of history to preface my journal entry from Hue:
From 1802 to 1945, 13 emperors of the Nguyen Dynasty ruled from within the citadel of the Imperial City which stretch over 1200 acres. Inside the citadel lies the Forbidden Purple City, 22 acres, and surrounded by another square of walls with four entrances. The Imperial City was built between 1802 and 1833 following the rules of geomancy; its back faced the mountains and its front faced the sea. It is bordered by a moat, and its destruction began in 1947 by fire and razed further in 1968 during the Tet offensive.

The outer city of Hue has a population of around 300,000 (about the size of Arlington); its denizens dine on imperial cuisine and represent Hue as a center for learning. I never made it to the Museum of Royal Fine Arts, nor did I get to the Dong Ba Market in the outer city. I didn’t even get to take a dragon boat ride. With 3 days to spend in Hue, of which a day would be dedicated to Chuong’s paternal side of the family (we are related through my father and his mother, who is my first cousin), my time was limited.

Friday, March 30, 2001. Hue, Vietnam. 10:35 p.m.
I can’t even begin to describe how I feel being in Hue. The sensation I felt stepping off the plane when I first arrived in Vietnam in February is only magnified with my arrival in Hue, much the way a camera would zoom in to magnify its subject – the detail and vividness of color, the magnification of feeling and sensation.

Vietnam is my homeland. Sai Gon is where I was born. But Hue. Hue runs through my veins. Hue was where dad was born. Phan Thiet, which I just visited a few weeks ago, is where mom is from. The difference? Aside from being two completely different cities in terms of demographics, geography, language, and geology, Hue makes me feel as if I am meeting myself for the first time. I consider myself to be a relatively self aware and introspective person. But all my life – and that of my siblings – we have been exposed to the Nam way of life – the South Vietnamese way of life. By this, I mean that we have grown up immersed in my mother’s life and family – I know all her 9 siblings, my 21 maternal first cousins, second cousins, raised nearby my maternal grandparents, and grew up speaking tien Nam, the southern dialect. Going to Phan Thiet was a wonderful experience – seeing mom’s elementary school, her home, her town. Going to Phan Thiet was an extension of the Vietnamese culture I already knew. In fact, it was so familiar that I felt completely at home in Phan Thiet.

I am an American. A Vietnamese American. By American, I need not explain. By Vietnamese, I defined myself as the world I knew of my Vietnamese culture – my South Vietnamese half. My Phan Thiet half.

Arriving in Hue, I have now just discovered my other half. I have just opened my eyes to a part of me that I have never seen before. Simultaneously foreign yet intimate. I feel a connection so deep with Hue – a deep love for Hue. It’s as if I have just met my father – I have just envisioned his life for the very first time. I have just met my other half. And goddamn, I like it.

Hue is the last Imperial City. Much of it irrevocably destroyed by war. It lies in central Vietnam, the Demarcation Zone nearby. It is peppered with my relatives, some of whom I met today. Hong Du Duc, my father’s third cousin, and the youngest of the Du/Giu generation, stopped in while I was paying a visit to my cousin, Chi Hy (whose late husband is Hong Khac Thieu). Chi Hy brought out a booklet to share with me – it is the Hope Diamond in my geographic and genealogic treasure chest – a record of the Hong family line in relation to the Nguyen dynasty of Vietnam. It’s in Vietnamese, but Chu (uncle) Duc tried to explain as much of it as he could with me. Unfortunately, the natives of Hue speak with a thick accent and my Vietnamese is far from good enough to understand everything – I sat wishing I had my MD recorder.

Long, Chi Hy’s youngest of 3 sons, will make a copy for me to bring home where I will have dad translate. Dad’s brother (my uncle) who shares the same name as Long’s father (my first cousin), Hong Du Thieu (my uncle), was part of the South Vietnamese airborne troops. On his day off duty, he happened upon his unit, preparing for a mission. He made a fatal decision to join them that day. My cousin, Hong Khac Thieu, was involved in the war as well. Incarcerated while Chi Hy was 2 months pregnant with Long, Long never really got to know his father. Anh Thieu was released when Long was 14. When he was 15, his father died. These are only a few tidbits I have collected from being here. In time, I hope to discover more. I am so incredibly moved to be here, I can not describe how I feel.

Saturday, 1 April 2001. Hue, VN
Early this morning, Chuong and I walked around the Forbidden Purple city – I photographed all of the gates into the city. Tomorrow morning we’ll go inside.

We then went over to Chi Hy’s to meet up with relatives (Long, and his brother Phat and Chu Duc) and went to the Hong nha tho (shrine) nearby, cared for by a distant cousin of my father’s, Co Phu. Again moved beyond words, I surveyed each of the red and gold wooden shrines within the nha tho structure, one for each branch of the Hong family lines. I examined further the embellished gold tablets with Hoa lettering (Chinese characters), that hung overhead – gifts from the Emperor to my grandfather. From the Hong nha tho, we all piled in the car and headed for the mountains, the burial grounds of my ancestors. It is protocol to visit the burial grounds regularly in remembrance of our ancestors, for whom we pray, and for which these prayers are symbolized by the incense we light & leave for them. At least that’s what I think the incense is for. I went to see my great-great grandfather’s grave (the first of the Hongs who came to Vietnam from China) and in front of which lay multiple other graves of ancestors remains that were moved from another site in the 1980’s. Next to this, was another set of graves. My grandfather, Hong Quang Dich, 1888-1949. His first wife, 1888-1930 (her first name does not appear on the headstone, but instead it reads “Mrs. Hong Quang Dich). My grandmother, Nguyen Thi Tu Anh, d.1933 (though that is what is carved into stone, I think it might be wrong). Northerners have a way of putting the name of the eldest son of the dead upon their tombstones. Therefore, on my grandfather’s was etched Hong Du Chau, my dad’s eldest brother (first son of the first wife). The shock was in seeing dad’s name (spelled differently, Hong Du Chuong) engraved upon my grandmother’s stone. I got over this, paid my respects to each of my grandparents, took photographs both for dad and for chronicling purposes, and then we all got back in the car to go back to town.

The rest of the day was, gratefully, much lighter. Long, Phat, Chi Hy, Chuong, and I went to a local eatery for banh beo, banh nam, banh loc, and banh khoai, all foods that are original to Hue. Five of us ate plenty for 62,000 VND (four dollars and change), and headed for Lang Co, a resort town and beach that face the Marble Mountains. We spent a few hours by the beach relaxing (just what I needed to help restore my mind), then back to the city by evening for a brilliant imperial dinner, to a special island whose soil is exceptional for corn crops, and had che bap (a sweetened corn gelee) for dessert. We went by the river to finish our evening with coffee, which ended sooner than expected because of my loud complaints of mosquito bites. Chuong and I drove around the citadel for just a little bit before going back to the hotel (he rented a motorbike for $5/day). The weather was perfect (for once it was cool in Vietnam), and the Ngo Mon Gate (Noon Gate, the main entrance to the Forbidden Purple City) was lit up beautifully.

Tuesday, April 3, 2001. Sai Gon VN.
Since I didn’t have the chance to finish writing about my trip to Hue from Hue, I’ll finish it off here. I spent Sunday morning inside the Forbidden Purple City alone. Entering the grandiose Ngo Mon Gate, I faced the Thai Hoa Palace (Palace of Supreme Harmony) beyond the two lotus ponds. Lined up along both sides of the path leading to the Thai Hoa Palace are two rows of stelae, each marked in Chinese/Hoa lettering, at which the Military Mandarins and Civilian Mandarins would stand. The emperor received delegations and presided over major ceremonies from his throne inside the Thai Hoa Palace. Since the emperor faces the audience, per se, the Military Mandarins would stand stage right, and Civilian Mandarins stage left, in order of rank. My grandfather stood at the second stela along the line of Civilian Mandarins. I stood there and touched the stone where he once stood, where he faced the Emperor, where he worked, where he lived. For the umpteenth time in Hue, I swallowed the lump in my throat. How strange that it is only two generations ago that this place was graced with landscaping divine and resplendent architectural beauties. This is where my father’s father lived. I can’t believe it sometimes. Of the 300 edifices that once stood in Hue, only about 80 remain, of which many are in desperate need of renovations.

I further explored the city within the city, passed through pavilions and temples, and the Cuu Dinh (the Nine Dynastic urns), bronze masterpieces weighing 3500-5700 pounds each, set in relief, cast in 1835-1837, and dedicated to different emperors.

After two and a half hours of wandering, I met up with Phat who took me to Chuong’s relatives, where we all met so that six of us could go see the Long An vs. Hue soccer game. Like in every other country in the world, except America, soccer is second to none. Long An ranks first in the country, Hue last. Always a fan for the underdog (and after all, my bloodland), we all rooted for Hue. Long An has the country’s star – the Michael Jordan of Vietnam – and we were in for a tough game. Within just the first few minutes, Hue scores! Several minutes later, another goal for Hue! I thought (hey, which team is in red? Us or them?). In the second half, though, Long An came back and scored 3 in a row. We were doomed. In the final minutes, an unlikely goal for Hue! Tied, we were thrilled. Then just five minutes later, another fortuitous goal for Hue! All we needed was for the clock to run down… it did, and 20,000 spectators (crammed in a space meant for thousands less) hooted and hollered. I love live sports.

After dinner back at Chuong’s great uncle’s house (who happened to be the engineer behind the Ho Chi Minh Trail and whose son was a decorated Communist General), we went back inside the Forbidden Purple City where there was a special evening of song and dance. I sat in my chair, propped my legs up, and fell asleep by the second number.

By the next morning, we flew back to Sai Gon, where I napped from noon to night, and then slept through to Tuesday. My first trip to Hue was complete, and thanks to Chuong, I was able to experience and understand so much of where I come from, and what I’m made of. For that, I am incredibly grateful, for I could not have gained so much in so little time without him.