Scenes

Yesterday my partner and I went to have Mi Quang, and just seeing the bowl on the table made me remember an incident in Vietnam many years ago.

My nephew in Vietnam LOVES Mi Quang, and is something of a connoisseur. He knew of a particular restaurant in the backstreets of Tan Binh that served the city’s best Mi Quang, but kept eccentric hours – as soon as everything was finished, they would close up for the day. And some days they decided to serve a totally new dish, and on the Buddhist sabbath they only served vegetarian noodles.

On this particular day we were in luck, as they were serving their famous chicken Mi Quang, and there was plenty left. The problem was that the restaurant was jammed packed with children, and we had to wait for a table. The children were of all ages and sexes, and they were all shoddily dressed. Outside the restaurant, sitting bolt upright on a plastic stool, sat a young Buddhist Nun. It turns out that they were all from a nearby orphanage, and the Nun had brought them all down here for a special meal. Naturally, here vows didn’t allow her to be in a restaurant that served meat, and so she sat outside, and when the orphans were finished the owner came out to settle the bill with the Sister.

It was such a beautiful scene, and one that has stuck with me as a perfect example of the pragmatism (and fundamental rationality) of Vietnamese Buddhism. The Nun had taken her vows, and she stood by them strictly. But she chose not to impose her ideas on the children, instead allowing them to enjoy a special treat.

This is the kind of occurrence that makes me love Vietnam.

Friends

In preparation for my arrival in October I have been re-establishing contact with old friends in Vietnam. Last time I was there I was in a somewhat anti-social phase, and saw most of my friends only once or twice. Perhaps, too, people change, and my friends are all getting older and don’t have the time to devote to me that they used to have, so I am easily offended. I know this sounds selfish, but there you have it. Another thing I’ve noticed is that temples and monasteries are not as open and accessible as they were in the days when I spent a lot of time at them. I guess its an inevitable part of the ‘professionalisation’ of Buddhism, and the tidying up of its institutions, but I’ve definitely observed that Vietnamese Buddhism has become increasingly rule-bound and exclusive as Vietnam’s economic situation has improved. One example: I used to be able to wander freely at some of the largest monastic institutions in Ho Chi Minh City, and drop in to visit monk friends in their rooms whenever I wanted. More and more abbotts now have placed a ban on lay-people visiting monastic chambers, and more temples are introducing ‘no-go’ areas that are off-limits to lay people.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the reasons for doing this, and to an extent can sympathise with them. It does indicate to me, however, a growing monastic chauvinism that is without charm and was previously absent from Vietnamese Buddhism. I think one of the main reasons for its growth has been the example of Thailand, where Vietnamese increasingly travel for holidays and education and where an archaic (and, I suggest, problematic) glorification of monks exists, and a huge divide exists between lay people and monastics. Vietnamese Buddhists (and especially senior-ranking monks of all sects) travel there and witness this and think, “Oh! Here’s a way we can improve the status of religious life in our country.” And who knows, maybe they are right?

Another influence has been the writings of Thich Nhat Hanh, which have always been popular and have gained enormous currency in recent years since he has been allowed to return to Vietnam. I love Master Nhat Hanh, and respect him as one of the greatest teachers in the world. But I have noticed that in recent years he has increasingly moved towards this same separatist model for monastics, and advocates it extensively. I accept that this model is doctrinally sound and particularly current in the world of Theravada Buddhism. I was once an advocate of it myself. But I reiterate that it has not been the model for Vietnamese Mahayana in living memory. Vietnamese Mahayana has, since the 20th Century, been characterised by a progressive monastic approach in which boundaries between lay and monastic believers were broken down, and Buddhist clergy took an active and humble role in society. Ironically, Thich Nhat Hanh was one of the greatest advocates of this model, which he now seems to renounce.

OK, that unexpected rant over, I also heard from one of my oldest friends (and one of my most invaluable guides to the gay underworld of Saigon) and he proudly told me that he is now in a serious relationship and a model of domestic harmony. I nearly cried! For myself, of course – terribly happy for him. He has always modelled himself on Western ideas of what it means to be a middle-class gay man, and has for many years desired a monogamous, settled relationship. So good luck to him.

But that means one less buddy to help me explore that enormous and constantly changing city……

Money

The thing about writing a travel book is that, unless you are Paul Theroux, you have to finance the initial trip yourself. And if it is to be a book of any substance, then the trip has to be reasonably lengthy, wide-ranging and varied. Not only is this expensive, but it means that during the time you are away you sacrifice your normal source of income as well.

I  think I’m gonna be ok. I’m not earning a lot of money, but I received a scholarship this year which remains untouched, and I got another cash prize for my academic work this week, which goes into the coffers. I plan to be away for two and a half months, so I’m hoping I won’t have to resort to credit card advances until right at the very end.

What terrifies me is that it’s over a year since I was in Vietnam, and I understand that inflation has been really major there, particularly in Ho Chi Minh City, where I will spend the bulk of my time. I hope it’s not as severe as what some people make out.

Thinking about it

I’ve been thinking about the book a lot lately, though not actually writing anything – my thesis keeps me much to busy, though that is probably just an excuse.

Today I’ve had the Benedictine Monastery in Thu Duc running around in my mind. I definitely want to write about that. It is such an amazing place but so perfectly hidden away that no Western reader could possibly know about it.

Yesterday at Uni we did a session on Ethnography, and it got me thinking about travel writing, which I think is really just a popular form of ethnography. Naturally, ethnography is deeply unfashionable in academic circles these days (take a bow Mr. Said), and I am perfectly aware that travel writing can be (and is ) criticised for the very same reasons – trivialisation of the subject, exploitation, the impossibility of ever really understanding what you are writing about….the list goes on.

Going as Far as I Can

I’ve been trying to read some travel books to give me some inspiration for my own writing, but it’s very difficult to fit them in with all the other reading I need to do at the moment for work & study. At the moment I am reading Over the Moat, a love story set in Hue which is actually quite good, though I find the author (or is it the character of the author?) insufferable. I think this is an unavoidable aspect of travel writing. The person doing the telling is doomed to offend, irritate and embarrass. Paul Theroux gets around this by making himself such a thoroughly unattractive character that you almost can’t help but like him, and perhaps this is an excellent ruse.

I’ve just finished another book in which the author attempted to do this, but with less success. Duncan Fallowell’s Going as Far as I Can is an account of a journey to New Zealand – something sufficiently rare in travel writing to be noteworthy in itself. Fallowell is a good writer, there is no doubt, but I found myself irritated by his obsession with architecture, and some of his observations were really quite banal. That said, I couldn’t put the book down, and finished it very quickly – wondering at the end, though, why on earth I’d bothered. This is a constant bother with authors who are actually quite talented but whose ability to plot is flawed – you keep flicking from page to page but are left deeply unsatisfied at the end. Crime novels are particularly noteworthy for this, which is why I gave up reading them some years ago.

Thich Quang Duc

It doesn’t take much involvement in Vietnamese Buddhism to realise that Thich Quang Duc is a revered figure. Indeed, he is always referred to by Vietnamese Buddhists as Thich Quang Duc Bodhisattva. Though he has a modicum of fame in the West as the first of the monks to self-immolate in protest at the Vietnam War, in Vietnam he is much more than that. Especially in Saigon, there are shrines to him everywhere, and I read recently that the government is going to construct a more elaborate shrine at the place where he became a martyr. There is already one there, but it is a humble affair, and I’ve never actually seen anyone visiting it.

Quan Am Temple in Phu Nhuan was (I Think) the place where Thich Quang Duc stayed when he was in Saigon, and it is here that his remains are kept. This temple is well off the beaten path, and totally unvisited by tourists, but it houses a small museum to the monk (mostly kept locked) and a number of personal items belonging to him. You access the museum through a large cement grotto dedicated to Kwan Yin, and this seems to be the temples main attraction. The statue of Kwan Yin enshrined there is considered particularly lucky. Like many temples in the city, it is in a perpetual state of renovation and extension, and the last few times I have been there the place was a schmozzle and little more than a construction zone. This situation can last for years in Vietnam, as Abbotts  start construction the moment they have some money, but that money frequently dries up, and everything grinds to a halt. The Abbott at Quan Am Temple (I don’t know his name) is an invalid, but is renowned for his knowledge of the Lotus Sutra, and his lectures on it can attract huge crowds.

I have always wanted to write about Thich Quang Duc, and indeed about the whole martyrs movement (after him there were a couple of dozen people who did the same thing, over the years). In Vietnam there are many books on him and the other martyrs. I shall certainly be making him a part of my book.

News from Vietnam

My Father-in-law is returning from Vietnam this morning, hopefully with lots of news and pictures from Saigon. He will also have a whole heap of new calling cards that I got my nephew to print – indispensable! All of this news just makes me ache to be there, however.

Not much longer to go – hopefully I’ll be leaving on October 12. Of course, I have a thesis to write before then, but I can still keep it in sight!

Wanting tips

I have been listening to a really wonderful audiobook called Geography of Bliss. In it the author describes starting a blog for the book he is creating (as I have done here) and asking for people to give him tips about what he should investigate and write about.

And so I do the same here. Keeping in mind that I am writing about a spiritual journey through Vietnam, I invite you to comment or email me with tips about places I should go, people I should meet and things I should follow up. Any and all ideas gratefully received and appreciated.

My dream come true

For more than 10 years I’ve wanted to write a book about Vietnam. It is a place I know and love and have deep personal connections with. With the growing popularity of Vietnam as a tourist destination and the dearth of good books about contemporary Vietnam, I have become convinced that I can write an excellent book, and some other important people have encouraged me to pursue this dream.

So, in this blog I want to chart my journey as a writer and engage with ideas and topics close to my book that interest me. I hope you’ll share the journey.