Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The River as Highway


Wednesday, September 21, 2011



The Toum Teave chugs all night, her engines alternately purring and puffing, a steady, soothing lullaby. A long, black-green night offers no clues about tomorrow, save the occasional passage of other boats – some large and well-lit, others small, appearing briefly in Captain Serge Prunier’s searchlight before disappearing in our wake.




A gray dawn breaks as we cruise the Cho Gao Canal, a gift from the 19-th Century French, who conceived it, and their Vietnamese prisoners, who did the work. Small freighters and fishing boats drift westward along with us; silt barges and produce boats race by as they head east. Everybody waves and smiles as we pass.

Later, the Mekong spreads before us, wide and sliver-tan in the morning sun. We turn north, hugging the eastern shore, until we arrive at My Tho, a thriving, sprawling city of low buildings that looks like what we imagined Saigon would be. The Temple of the Cao Dai religion, which worships the Gods of all major religions, is a riot of color and detail, including Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, and Confucius, along with dragons, chalices, egrets, and banners. 



The Buddhist Vinh Tran Temple is slightly more reserved inside, but opens to beautiful gardens and oversized statues, some under construction, as everything seems to be in Vietnam.







Which brings us back to the silt barges. A spirited debate on board the Toum Teave posits whether the Vietnamese people are simply clearing the river for navigation and commerce, or bringing raw material for the construction of Saigon and the Mekong’s many other cities. 



It turns out both sides are correct. One man’s silt is another man’s cinderblock.








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