Vietnam

Cruising the Perfume River
Story & Photos by: Marty Wilson.

"...The large diesel engine lacks a starter and must be cranked by hand, similar to an old-fashioned automobile..."

he diesel engine sputters to life, shattering the early morning tranquility. Our captain turns the bow into the current and opens the throttle. Our journey on Hue's famed Perfume River is under way. It's a little past 9:00 am on a gray, misty morning. I'm tagging along for the ride with two Australians, Vivian, an adventurous young woman who's lived in Vietnam for over a year, and her mother Ruth, a retired college professor who seems far younger than her years.

Many of Hue's historical sites lie several klicks south of the city. The emperors of the Nguyen dynasty built their elaborate royal tombs here during the 19th century. Then as now, the Perfume River was Hue's major transportation artery. Not surprisingly, most of the tombs were built within close proximity to the banks of the river. A century later, boat is still the preferred way to visit these architectural treasures.

An equally compelling reason to hire a boat is to capture a close-up view of life on the river. The boats that ply this waterway are also home to the families that work them. Stepping aboard is akin to walking into their living room. (Actually it's their dining room and bedroom, too!)

Upon arriving at the dock this morning, we were greeted by our captain, Van, and his wife, Ha who invited us to board their colorfully-painted, floating home. The wood-floored main cabin is glass-enclosed. It serves as the their main living quarters, doubling as a passenger deck during the day. Aft is a smaller compartment, perhaps two meters in length, which serves as the engine room, kitchen and second bedroom. A back door leads to a small deck at the stern, where the captain navigates the small craft.

Van and Ha allow us to roam the boat from bow to stern, photographing them and their two young children, Tuan (age 2) and Phuong (age 1). The steady, evenly-spaced tap of the exhaust is loud and makes conversation difficult. We're too busy taking in the sights along the river bank and the passing boats to notice.

We soon arrive at our first stop, Thien Mu Pagoda. Van expertly docks the boat alongside several others and we climb ashore. Van and Ha remain on board, tending to domestic chores while we explore Hue's oldest Buddhist temple.

The ancient pagoda and neatly manicured grounds are impressive. Saffron-robed monks go about their business seemingly oblivious to the scores of tourists roaming the complex. Many visitors come for a glimpse of the infamous Austin sedan in which one of the monks traveled to Saigon in 1963, where he sat cross-legged in the street, doused himself in gasoline and calmly lit a match. His self-immolation was a protest against the policies of the South Vietnamese government.

Thirty minutes later, Van and Ha are there to greet us when we return to the boat. Ha casts off from shore, pushing back with a long bamboo pole, while Van prepares to start the engine. The large diesel engine lacks a starter and must be cranked by hand, similar to an old-fashioned automobile. Van is well-practiced and in seconds the motor catches and sputters to life.

It's raining now and we're glad to be inside the dry cabin with a window on the soggy world outside. The river is wide and shallow. Many boats and their crews are engaged in primitive methods of dredging the shallow river bottom. They'll transport their cargo of fine silt downriver to be used in construction. I don't envy them their task.

Van's two-year-old son, Tuan, eyes us with curiosity from the cover of the engine room. Vivian speaks to him in Vietnamese. He smiles at the familiar words and is soon coaxed out from the shelter of the engine room by the offer of a banana. Before long he climbs up on my lap. I smile and he smiles back. I make funny faces and he imitates each one in turn. I wiggle my ears and he squeals in delight, while trying in vain to do the same.

The stupid human tricks come to an end when we arrive at our next stop, the tomb of Tu Duc. The tomb is actually some distance from the river, and Vivian and Ruth decide to wait in the boat. The rain has stopped and I foolishly leave my raincoat behind. Van accompanies me for the 100 meter climb up the steep river bank. At the top is a small, local cafe, where Van tells me he's going to get a cup of coffee. Judging by his reception, I'd guess he's a regular. I hire a ride on the back of a Honda for the last 2 klicks to the tomb.

About half-way there the rain begins again in earnest. Upon reflection I determine that leaving my raincoat in the boat was not very bright. I spend the next 40 minutes wandering the grounds of the ancient tomb in the pouring rain.

When I return to the boat less than an hour later, I'm soaked to the skin. There's no sign of Van. After another 5 or 10 minutes, Ha sets out in search of him. She returns a few minutes later with Van in tow, looking a bit sheepish. We cast off and we're once again under way.

Van, outside in his raincoat, expertly navigates the boat. Ha is in the engine compartment, repairing a fishing net and watching Phuong, who is sound asleep in her tiny hammock, oblivious to the loud beat of the engine. Meanwhile, Tuan is comfortably glued to Vivian's lap, alternately playing games and motioning for more food. It seems as though he's consumed at least half his weight in bananas by now.

Our third stop is known as the Bowl Shrine. We're the only visitors on this drizzly morning and the staff of three are delighted to show us around the strangely serene temple, which also houses various 19th century relics of the royal family. At one point our guide uses his lighter to show us the display. After a brief tour of the tiny temple, we stand under a canopy and shoot the breeze with the three men who run the place, while waiting patiently for the rain to let up - it doesn't.

Back on board it's lunch time and we break out the picnic feast we brought along, or what's left of it. Tuan's appetite knows no bounds and he readily puts away a French baguette, generously buttered by you-know-who. He's very particular, however, and motions for the salt and pepper, which he generously applies to his sandwich. Before long we're out of food. Good thing, or Tuan would surely explode!

Heading back toward Hue, Vivian spies an interesting temple off the port side and we motion for Van to turn around. A few minutes later we're climbing the wet, overgrown riverbank to Hue's temple of literature. The well-restored monument is modeled after a similar 11th century temple in Hanoi, honoring Vietnam's most revered scholars. The Vietnamese language signs give us no clue as to why this particular temple was built or when, but the weathered stone turtles supporting their inscribed tablets suggest several centuries. We linger at the temple for nearly an hour, never seeing another person. The mystery of why this well-maintained temple remains off the usual tourist itinerary remains unsolved.

We celebrate the final stretch of river with a round of beer. Thirty minutes later we're back on shore, tired and a little damp. We're anxious for some dry clothes, but nonetheless sad to say goodbye to our hosts. Looking at Tuan, I realize that someday when I'm Ruth's age, I'll be back on the Perfume river, with Tuan at the helm and his children laughing and playing with mine.

About the Author

Martin Wilson is the founder, editor and publisher of Vietnam Adventures.

This article is posted from Vietnam Adventures.