Vietnam’s past and present find peace in enchanting city of Hue
the French and American wars. Tu Hoa and I scramble among a mixture of broken masonry, cracked tiling and restored buildings, including the galleries of the Can Chanh Palace, with walls of gleaming red lacquer and gold.
As we cross the moat, Tu Hoa digs into her book bag and pulls out a handful of fish food pellets.
“Lunchtime for koi!” she exclaims, and points excitedly at a school of orange fish as shiny as the palace walls, splashing and swimming across each other to get closer to an easy meal. By the time we finish tossing the pellets to the koi, I’ve accepted my guide’s invitation to have dinner with her family.
As with the Citadel, Hue’s tombs were built in the past 200 years, and as with many other rulers’ tombs, they’re monuments to ego. The most popular, the tomb of Tu Duc, was built between 1864 and 1867, and was designed by the emperor himself. The construction demanded so much money and forced labor that it led to an attempted coup, which was discovered and suppressed.
Walking along the path to Luu Khiem Lake, I spy Tinh Khiem island, where Tu Duc hunted small game after taking boating trips on the lake. Afterward, he relaxed with his concubines in Xung Khiem Pavilion to recite or compose poetry, shaking off the stress of the day’s hunt.
Around the lake shore, beyond the honor courtyard, is the emperor’s tomb — but he’s not there. Tu Duc was buried in a different location, still unknown to those in and around Hue. To keep the location secret, the 200 servants who buried the king were beheaded.
After my tomb tour, I return to Hue and easily find Tu Hoa’s home with the directions she’s written for me. I’m welcomed by her parents as if it’s a regular occurrence that their daughter selects stray tourists to share a home-cooked meal, and am immediately asked about my Vietnamese cuisine likes (everything) and dislikes (nothing I’ve yet tried).
Later, when the feast is placed on the table, Tu Hoa says that her family will walk me back to my hotel after dinner. Her mother, father, sister and brother all nod when I look confused, and as I bite into the best meal I’ve had in Vietnam, it’s explained why.
“We want you to have a good memory of Hue,” Tu Hoa says. “But if you run into a ghost at night, maybe you will be frightened to come back. If we come with you, the ghost will see you’re with family, and it will be OK.”
After dinner, before we walk through the streets of Hue, I tuck a green rock I found on the hillside into my new family’s spirit house, just in case.