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Yangshuo: Silk Ribbon of rivers, jade hairpins of hills

Posted on April 29, 2020 by Samar One comment

Unending series of karst mountains stood tall, seemingly rising straight out of the river. Wispy-bearded cormorant fishermen set their birds off to get the catch in a while. The boy from Babhnan was on a bamboo raft, cruising in the Yulong river in Yangshuo.

A short Google ‘research’ before setting out to the sleepy and beautiful, almost mystical city had thrown up Bill Clinton’s famous statement after visiting the region in 1998. Visibly flabbergasted by the beauty, he had then said: “I heard of the name of Li River long ago. Today I visit Li River. It is more vivid and genuine than what I thought before. Nowhere is like Guilin. It makes me think of the traditional Chinese paintings.”

He had got it partly right. Had he drove a little further down or had talked to the locals, he would have known of the local wisdom embodied in a saying. “Guilin has the best scenery under the heaven, but Yangshuo is even more beautiful.” He missed it by a whisker. Understandable though, world leaders do not often have that much time with them.

Yellow Cloth Shoal- the picture behind 20 Yuan notes — Yellow *Cloth Shoal*– the picture behind 20 Yuan notes

The boy had much more time on him, though. One doesn’t get to escape Hong Kong, a maddening city in its centre, everyday. Particularly not in China, getting even more urbanised with crowds that can put even Saigon traffic to shame! Yet, there is a city with no malls. Even Xiapu had one- a humongous WallMart! Yeah, the Tourists have started taking over this hitherto muse of the Chinese poets and painters for centuries, and the travellers, especially backpackers’ hideout after the country finally opened up.

All set for day's cycling, hiking and rafting — All set for day’s cycling, hiking and rafting

The sun has risen on the city that lies at the confluence of the Li and Yulong rivers, forming part of a waterway system that connects the Yangtze with the Pearl River Delta.

So what if 20 Yuan note has Chairman Mao on the front, I can also pretend!

The boy was in the West Street sipping his coffee and munching on the sandwitch- the really scenic centre of the town with small canals crisscrossing beautiful houses, most converted in cafes and shops now. And it is noisy, busy and crowded any time of the day- the exact opposite of the scenic beauty outside the city- rustic, rural and laid back. Yet, it is worth a visit every evening till you are in the town. Best thing? The legend has it that more English is spoken in the West street than in the rest of China taken together.

XingPing Village- near the Yellow Cloth Shoal (RMB 20 note scene)

It was time to head to Yulong Bridge for Bamboo rafting in the Yulong River, equally scenic but far less touristy than the Li river. It was to be a lovely day. West Street, out of the town, cycling through the paddy fields to the Moon Hill. Then leave the cycle and go for the short hike to the hill so named because of a natural, crescent shaped arch with beautiful views of the town below. Get back, move on to the Big Banyan Tree, believed to be 1400 years old. Go further and explore some caves if you wish. And then to the Yulong Bridge for the best steal- bamboo rafting on the river so serene and clean that you can see the all the way down to its base! All this as the Karst Mountains look on smilingly. Get back to the West Street and unwind with dinner and wash it down with Liquan, the famous local beer brewed in Guilin.

Get up the next day for the famous RMB 20 exploration. The boy was so confused in the beginning with every second person selling him that tour- then he got it. This was to the place which is so famous for its beauty that China prints it on the back of 20 Yuan notes! The traveller in the boy never liked these tours. So he got the maps and the basics- went to the local bus stand. He was in XingPing, an ancient looking village some 45 minutes after. Lost in the rusty charm of the village he had almost forgotten what he came there for. He thanked the aunty when she showed him the Note with Yellow Cloth Shoal on the back and asked- no go? Yes Go, Now go- he almost screamed, thanked her profusely, paid the bill and ran! It indeed was a majestic view.

Next in line was Fuli, the birthplace of the traditional painted Chinese fan, just about 8km out of town. The boy had time on him- so he then went to the village’s pier and set off to Dutou, another village, aboard yet another bamboo raft! Aah, the beauty! Back on the land, an ancient village, 800 years old Liugong right on the banks of Li river was calling. One of the least touristy in the whole area and rather well preserved historical buildings like the Moon Pavilion and Home of Senators, what else could one ask for. Or one could, Near the village were the famous three-color ponds, evidently with three different colours of water supernatural tales. The locals believe that water levels in the ponds remain the same throughout the year, no matter what season it is or how much is the level of the Li River.

It was time to head back to the town. To come here again and again. Being in Hong Kong, just 4 hours away allows this, the boy thought and smiled. He had found his paddy fields yet again!

He had read about Han Yu’s description of the area 1200 years ago- “The river winds like a green silk ribbon, while the hills are like jade hairpins.”

Wan Chai: Bay, Bars, Brothels and a battle

Posted on April 27, 2020 by Samar 8 comments

There was no way one could walk without touching another. Yet, there came an ambulance and the crowds parted like a wave, making for a video that would be watched by millions and millions. It was worth it, the world rarely gets to see such blending of anger, resistance, and compassion. The boy from Babhnan was walking, nay, marching in protest to Tamar Park, the site of the government offices of Hong Kong, Special Administrative Region of China.

Image may contain: 1 person, crowd and outdoor — In one of the Hong Kong protests

Over 2 million HongKongers had taken to the street that day. Few knew that this would be one of the last protests in the city with people not covering their faces. One of the last ones to be peaceful too. They would soon metamorphose in pitched battles between Police firing real bullets in decades, and students replying with Molotov Cocktails, petrol bombs for the uninitiated.

Trams, cars and pedestrians: above an underground subway. — Trams, cars and pedestrians: above an underground subway

Wan Chai was not always known for this though. The area, now one of the poshest in the megapolis has a rather interesting, colourful and intriguing history. A history that starts from a small bay and went to become the city’s first red light district and then the centre of governance. Red light district still exists, by the way, the stigma does not with everyone minding their own business.

Very few Chinese settlers, all of them fisherfolk, lived in the area by the end of the 18th century. Almost all of them lived around the Sea God “Hung Shing Ye”‘s temple.

China’s defeat in the Opium Wars and resultant handover of Hong Kong island to the victors was to change it all. With Central being the unofficial capital of the one city British colony, Wan Chai too began to grow. Came in a British merchant Lancelot Dent, with a huge mansion around the 1840s, and the area suddenly became upmarket. Many colonials chose the area as home for both: them and their businesses. Dent went bankrupt by the 1870s and that brought in the local Chinese people.

Wan Chai as we see it today was getting born with bustling businesses, shipyards and even a waterfront hospital built by the British firm Jardine’s. British royal navy bought it in 1873 and converted it as Royal Navy Hospital. Ferry piers for the sailors and soldiers followed. The Red Light district was born too by the first few decades of the 19th century. Many of the brothels displayed huge street number plates to advertise themselves so their area became known as Big Number Brothels. Decades later, US-Vietnam War would contribute even more to the sex work in area with US soldiers returning from, and going to fight in the Nam, at Fenwick Pier, now demolished.

The Big Numbers did not disappear though. They just metamorphosed into shopping arcades, malls and markets in the area still carry the numbers. The City’s biggest computer market, 298 Computer Centre is one of them, perhaps.

The curious mix of the people and activities another added layer to the area. It soon started becoming the most multicultural one in the town. Taoist temples standing next to Buddhist ones, city’s first Sikh Gurudwara built in 1901, HK’s first Hindu temple built in 1953, a church all standing next to one another!

A Guangzhou Verandah style building decorated with lanterns

The boy remembered the happier days in the life of the city. Into history and architecture- he would go for the heritage trail. Beginning with colourful houses from the colonial times with green, blue and yellow ones being the most famous. The trail would then take him to PAK TAI TEMPLE built in 1862. Former Wan Chai Post Office (1912) would follow suit. Then Guangzhou Verandah style shophouses and finally the Hung Shing Temple, with “Shiwan” ceramic pottery roof decorations.

Tired, he would head to the nightlife area- now catering to both- sex workers and officegoing pub hoppers unwinding for the day. Adding to the curious mix would be families living just above the ‘nightclubs’ with having nothing to do with either! All three would keep aloof from one another. He would hit a pub, or just stand at one of the intersections seeing life go by. This is one signature thing to do in the Fragrant Harbour, aka Hong Kong.

A slogan with a clenched fist up in the air broke his chain of thought. The march was passing by the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre- where the famous handover of sovereignty from Britain to China took place in 1997. The protestors would soon be in the Golden Bauhinia Square Golden Bauhinia Square, so named for a beautiful sculpture of the flower which is also Hong Kong’s emblem. Then the Legislative Council called LegCo. It would be a long drawn resistance. And it would win. It did!

He cannot wait to explore the area even more even if the pubs and bars are shut down. The city is not in a lockdown, you can always roam around maintaining distance and wearing mask! This weekend, perhaps!

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Vietnam: Journeys of Shiva, spices and Samar

Posted on April 25, 2020 by Samar One comment

Lord Shiva looked at the boy from Babhnan visiting him. Don’t get surprised, we all have had our journeys, long and beautiful, he seemed to have said. Both smiled amidst the heavy rains. The boy was in Mỹ Sơn, the ancient temple site of the the Champa empire that ruled what is now central Vietnam from the 4th to 18th century AD. The ruins tell a gritty tale of the journeys that brought first Shiva and Hinduism and then spices to the region.

Interestingly, Hinduism reached Champa through neighbouring states like the Khmer empire in Cambodia and Funan, or Nokor Phnom. Even more interestingly, not much is known about Funan, not even its original name, Funan is what the Chinese calligraphers and historians called this indianised state, a loose network of states, Mandala.

Vietnam has always fascinated the small boy growing far away- actually three seas and an ocean away. He first learnt about the country through his father. His father was an ardent admirer of Ho Chi Minh, the only Asian man who militarily defeated two colonial powers, France and USA. His eyes would shine with a pride emerging from the idea of solidarity, the boy would note. He read about the country in Geography books as history ones would have little of it. Look East was yet not the official diplomatic line of the governments then- despite very friendly relations with them. India was one of those very few countries which helped the Viets in their war against the USA.

It was natural, then for the boy to run to the country, yet another soul place, on the very first opportunity. He started safe with Hanoi and was amazed at the warmth of the people and place. Countless trips to museums, including The Hanoi Hilton, as US prisoners of war called Hanoi Prison would end with the traditional Bia Hoi- gallons of freshly brewed beer served, literally, out of gallons in unassuming streetside shops. Aah, to be in Vietnam is bliss, to be in Bia Hoi just divine. Divine, the atheist boy feeling divine in a communist country sipping beer- journeys, he thought of and smiled.

Prison aka Hanoi Hilton, senator Senator John McCain is the most famous of its inmates

Hanoi would take him to the The Văn Miếu , roughly translated as the Temple of Literature. It was Vietnam’s first university, built in 1070 AD and dedicated to Confucius. A university built in 1070, that too in Asia, the boy was impressed. Though no longer functional, students still come to the Temple of Literature to celebrate their graduation.

No photo description available. — Halong Bay

Halong Bay was the next among countless trips taken in and from Hanoi. The bay, literally translated as the “Bay of Descending Dragons”, has thousands of limestone hills rising from the sea look like someone has built a wall on the sea! Named as one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, the very touristy way is a must see, go early or stay in the town to beat the crowds but do go.

Image may contain: people standing and outdoor — A girl in Ao Dai

Next for the boy in the Nam was Hoi An, now overshadowed by the nearby megapolis Da Nang at the coast of East City turned into a resort city. Give that a miss though, nothing much to see or explore there. Go to Marble Mountains instead- a cluster of 5 mountains of hill and limestone with beautiful caves with temples whom Viet Minh turned into bunkers to fight first the French and then the US forces. Buddha next to bullet holes, journeys, again, the boy thought.

Hoi An, a beautiful Universal Heritage city was once the commercial capital of the Champa Empire that controlled the spice trade at its zenith. The boy was back home, the land of Shiva. Hoi An, one of the world’s most important ports from the 15th to 19th century is exceptionally well preserved despite the two decade long wars Vietnam suffered. The city’s importance waned sharply at the end of the 18th century. Some believe it that Tây Sơn Rebellion opposed to foreign trade was the reason, some claim it was silting up of the river mouth rendering the port worthless. Whatever is the truth, nearby Da Nang soon became the new centre of trade and the city got almost forgotten. That was a blessing, perhaps.

Lost among the lanterns, the boy was tired and sleepy. To get ready for Hue, another ancient capital of the Nam, a long journey next morning. Ho Chi Minh City, aka Saigon, were the next on line. He waved his byes to Lord Shiva, promising that he would come back soon. Hong Kong is just 2 hours away, after all.

Manila Meandrings: Audacity of hope

Posted on April 15, 2020 by Samar One comment

Richell’s smile was infectious, her hope audacious. The boy of Babhnan was in Manila, the pearl of the East, as they called it because of its strategic location in the Asia Pacific region. They were chatting in a yellowy darkness that reminded the boy of his village some 4,500 kilometers, two oceans and several seas away. The ambience was eerily similar, reminiscent of those 200 watt yellow bulbs that hanged precariously in decaying holders and gave a twinkling yellow light that sickened more than illuminating. They hanged on, nonetheless.

With Children in Cavite — With children in Cavite

So did Richell, the bright and beautiful young girl. Sitting in the verandah in front of her room that she shared with seven others. All she had of her own was a bunker bed with no privacy other than a big and coarse curtain that could lock her 6 into 6 feet space out of others’ eyesight but could not stop noise, or even light from seeping in. Yet she laughed, and laughed a lot. She dragged the boy inside to have a ‘feel’ of her life and once inside, proudly showed him the teddy bear she had bought, no got as she corrected herself, a few days back. Her eyes twinkled when she talked of her dreams. She had no qualms against sharing them with me, a rank stranger until just half an hour ago.

With Richell and her friends and colleagues

Manila was going to be different, very different, the boy from Babhnan thought. He decided to give monuments a miss this time. He would meet people instead.

Richell’s dreams seemed so out of place in that dingy verandah.Yet,she had the courage to chase her dreams. The girls of his village would dare not, or they would be sacrificed at the altar of patriarchy for the ‘crime’.

His ride to their ‘home” had been tough and uneventful. Having decided to dump a cab ride, he had taken a bus followed by a signature Filipino Jeepney and then a ride in that claustrophobic tricycle that cages you on small shaded compartment attached to a motorcycle or a cycle. The route ran, almost along the seashore that defines the boundaries of Metro Manila, as the national capital region is known there. It passed by Freedom Islands, ironically named so, that are home to the boathouses and the skyscrapers coming next to it, which would gulp the boathouses soon. Notices are already out and served on them.

Richell’s journey was much longer and tougher. Masabate, the city she calls home, is not merely geographically distant from Manila, it is almost a different country, poorer and lacking of opportunities. But then, her old and ailing parents lived there, they still do, and it was there where she was pursuing her college degree in Information Technology. Ask her what brought her, then, here and what you get is another burst of laughter that could hardly conceal the pain seeping through her eyes. No work there, why else, she replies. Ask her about the IT course that she left midway and she points towards a roommate, she has an IT degree as well, no use. The roommate nods, giggles and then all of them burst into a collective laughter.

Leya does a Rizal, national hero of the country

Laughter, the boy was soon to realize, is not born merely out of the sheer audacity of their hopes. It was their weapon too, to reassure them that they have not lost everything, The laughter and the hope kept them afloat in a country that alienates them from their own labour, from their own bodies. It is intoxicating. It gives them the delusion they need the most.

You have a boyfriend; the boy suddenly asked Richell and saw her blushing for the first time. The reply, hastily put together with an invitation to have dinner with the group, is a coy ‘not yet’.

The story was the same; be it Irene, a single mom. Or Maribel, a fisherwoman in ironically named Freedom Island. The government was trying to relocate them to mountains, she informed. And giggles, fisherfolk to mountains, the government got some good sense of humour!

And Leya, an activist. And Dayan, my colleague. Or Freddie, a vendor in the Rizal National Park. I have been living here since 1972, Freddie tells me. My wife died here, he adds. He had slept in the makeshift bed inside his stall ever since. Wanna try, he asks the boy. He readily agrees.

Jeepney: US Military jeeps modified into passenger whatever

The boy did manage to go to some of the monuments, just for the pictures’ sake. And he stole a trip to Taal Volcano, a live one. The boy from the plains seeing the lava of a volcano! It is mere 100 kilometers away from Manila, and one thing you should not miss if you ever happen to be in Manila.

And of course there are more places, one of the most beautiful of them being Manila Bay walk. I have passed by many of them, but not quite visited. Just like locals who hardly wink at touristy places in their own cities. People there become far more important than them.

Richell’s laugh was the souvenir the boy brought back from Manila, a laughter so uncontrolled and unabashed. And her belief in the future. The audacity of that belief which can make anyone believe in humanity. Can we save the smile for our children, the boy asked himself. He had no answer!

Lucknow to Longji Rice Terraces

Posted on April 14, 2020 by Samar 8 comments

Rice fields on hills? In small serpentine terraces cut over centuries? Small boy from Babhnan was in the Longji Rice Terraces in the Longsheng County of Guangxi, surprised to his wits end. Coiling terraces rising up from the foothills and going up all the way to top of the mountains is fine! Where do they get water though, he was thinking, perplexed. Growing rice needs a lot of water, after all.

Longji Rice Terraces: The Dragon's Back section in Ping'an. See the people? — Longji Rice Terraces: The Dragon’s Back section in Ping’an. See the people?

Surprise slowly gave in to nostalgia. He had grown up by the rice fields, a food grain central to the civilisation feeding over half of the world’s population. But the rice fields he has known, and has a few of his own, are all in the Gangetic plains. One which could be easily mistaken for giant ponds from preparation to planting! He remembered the days he would run to them and jump in the muddy rice fields, filled with ankle deep water. He would then have to run away from mom, hiding behind grandpa to escape beating. Layers of rice shoots had led him to layers of memories, longings and losses.

The terraces would soon become small rivers... then rice fields — The terraces would soon become small rivers… then rice fields

He was missing his own rice fields back home some 3,000 kilometres away from Longsheng. Rice, along with other crops, was the currency his ancestors had. Cultivating rice would get them their livelihood, their luxuries, howsoever scant, their travels, everything. Rice would get the small village boy education and set him on this journey.

Rice would take him to Lucknow, the first big city he got to know. A city known for its Tehzeeb, culture, and the monuments, both built by the surplus its rulers, the formidable Nawabs, got from rice cultivators. A smile had made its way to boy’s lips. Monuments built from rice surplus to rice terraces built by sheer human endeavour… Journeys!

His ancestors had fought among themselves to get the most low lying lands, preferably closest to the water bodies. That they were also the farthest from the roads and they repent now for that is another story for another time!

Longji too had become home. And its people, Zhuang and Yao from two minority communities in China, his own people. The Zhuangs are native to the area. The Yaos originated in Hunan and came here fighting persecution and became native. Oh the journeys! The boy from Babhnan to Lucknow to Delhi to Hong Kong to Longji, Yaos from Hunan to same place!

With a Yao aunty, look how long they wear their hair

Then, they started constructing the terraces- the Zhuangs in Ping’an and the Yaos in Dazhai and Tiantou in the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368). Turning hills after hills into rice fields big and small, they continued until the early Qing Dynasty (1644-1911), when the hills had all become fields! Rising from the river bed that sits at 380 meters above the sea level and rises, with the coiling terraces up to whopping 1180 meters!

The boy from Babhnan in Longji Rice Terraces

Where do you people get the water for the rice from, the boy from Babhnan asked Qin,his friendly hostel owner (basically a traditional 3-story stilted woodhouse converted into a hostel)? He smiled and asked the boy to come behind. The boy did, going all the way up to the one of the most scenic terraces, me again, tired, yet excited with his running commentary which I would otherwise never had known- that’s my aunt’s house, built 200 years ago, that is the home of a friend who migrated to US and so on. The boy was getting to know even the people now.

See that round, white mountain top: people have made that a pond!

See that huge flat thing on the top of the hill, Qin asked! The boy, ever the son of the farmers, did not need a single word more. He has got it, with eyes wide open with surprise! The people had cut the top of the hills into flat bodies first, and then dug them into huge ponds to store water during rains! They then dug winding irrigation channels accompanying rice terraces! How did they do it? He wanted to ask, but did not. He was in awe of these people who rose to mighty mountains some 800 years ago, armed with primitive axes and shovels at the most and made fields out of them! Humans can indeed move the mountains, he smiled.

The boy from Babhnan had fallen in love. He has been coming to the fields year after year, season after season. To see the hills become rivers in the spring with terraces filled with water in preparation for sowing paddy. In summers, to see them turn into a sea of green shoots, neatly arranged. Then to see them turn into gold mines in the autumn, with ripe paddy ready for the harvest. He is yet to make it there in winters though, when the mountains turn into a frozen mystery with white snow all over! Soon, he would.

A village nestled in the terraces. — See the village nestled in the rice terraces?

He is sad, though, seeing the terraces falling to tourist trap since he first visited them in 2015 and hiked his way to Tiantou. There was no road to the village then, the reason he chose to stay there and not in Ping’an or Dazhai that had already fallen. He had then hiked his way up to the hostel enjoying the beauty and paying respects to the elders who created it. He saw a road being constructed to Taintou too, when he was there at last- in 2018.

Go, before it is too late. The boy from Babhnan would be happy to help with suggestions and inside secrets.

Can Tho: Call from the Mekong Delta

Posted on April 3, 2020 by Samar 3 comments

The boy from the River Manvar banks was back in Mekong Delta, ditching Da Nang, the up and arrived beach destination in Asia for the second time in a row within an year. No, he had nothing against the Seas. They always fascinated him. He now lives by the sea, in Hong Kong.

Onwards to Cai Rang Floating Market, biggest in the Mekong Delta

But the rivers are where the boy feels at home. Born and brought up in the foothills of the Himalayas, in the Gangetic plains also called Doaab, deltas are the place he belonged to. Places where everything revolved around the water earlier, most still does. He remembered the Monsoons: longingly waited for and scared off. Come, folk songs would plead the Gods of rains, but just enough to get us super crops, not to drown us, cut us off from the rest of the world for months.

As it is, he had realised that at the end of the day, every travellers seeks to find the home left behind somewhere deep within. Oh yeah- a quick note on Doaab- it literally means 2 waters- do is 2 and Aab is water in Arabic. That’s why Punjab is Punjab at both sides of the border- 5 waters, meaning 5 rivers. However much borders try to divide, rivers find a way to sneak out and unite. They just know how to.

This was what had brought the small boy to Can Tho, the biggest city in Mekong Delta and the fourth largest in Vietnam. The delta, like all other delta, has a fabulous history. Prehistory, actually, as almost all of the earliest human settlements started in deltas only just like the Indus Valley one.

The most fascinating thing about Can Tho, though, is that its past has a bridge to reach its present- a bridge called river Hậu River, a distributary of the mighty Mekong with its floating markets just like they were 300 years ago! Okay, the boats have become motorised, the wholesale ones jetties, many of them are now electrified and there are even floating (on the boats) petrol pumps! Everything else is the same: predawn rush of the wholesalers to these real floating markets with a bamboo pole with something hanging on the top- denoting what is that boat selling. If it’s fish then fish, vegetables then vegetables and if nothing- then boat itself!! Then come the boats selling breakfast and boats of retailers. Oh yeah and now also many tourists and some travelers too!

Cai Rang floating market in full glory. This one is the biggest in Mekong Delta and essentially a wholesale market. Just a 15 minutes boa — Cai Rang floating market in full glory

Same are the orchards inside, well connected with beautiful, almost mystic canals shaded by the coconut and palm trees, and the villages making rice paper, and so many other things, enough for one to get lost there alone for days.

Canals linking villages, lives, economy, everything

Can Tho is not only about these floating markets though. It has equally enchanting night markets 4 of them- open all night, by the way, unlike many night markets across the word, Go and eat traditional delicacies there like a local. Or head to the cacao farms reminding you of your own mango orchards lost in the villages left behind, many even having homestays- basic enough to take you on a trip down the memory lane.

Then there are magnificent temples, really intricate and different from one another unlike most of our run of the mill Shivalas and Mosques you can’t even differentiate from one another.

Doing all this, you would pass by the Can Tho Grand Prison many a times. Hardy enough to believe in justice. It is for you. A backpacker drunk on youth, or a tourist which ended up there in a tour: do go, it would sober you down.

Did I even talk about the hidden gem? Remember the 1992’s French Erotica Movie, The Lover, that took the world by storm, nay, sensuality? That helped bringing erotica inn Most of it was shot in Can Tho, in a small town some 17 kms away, in an over 150 years old house that remains the same even today!I had seen The Lover as a young adult, with the tape tucked inside my shirt smuggled into a friend’s house in 1997 or so in Allahabad. There I was in the house, I knew ever since.

This was the locale of the 1992 French Erotic classic, The Lover: It is called as Binh Thuy Ancient House, and also Binh Thuy Communal House — Locale of the 1992 French Erotic classic, The Lover: Binh Thuy Ancient House

Gosh! I forgot Ninh Kieu Wharf, I went to every single day there! Overlooked by a really tall statue Uncle Ho, as Ho Chi Minh is called across the country? It runs parallel to the river with a beautifully decorated bridge to itself, not going anywhere, just, to walk by the river and remember your own Manvar, 4400 kms away.

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Tag Archives: Soulplaces

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