I have been away from Hue for quite a long time.
Occasionally, in the middle of a stifling afternoon, just a gentle breeze or the lingering scent of kitchen smoke is enough to make my heart ache with longing for Hue. I miss Hue with a very unique emotion, one that seeps deep into every breath.
To me, Hue is those early mornings when a thin mist still clings to the surface of the citadel moat. I love strolling through the moss-covered gateways, hearing my footsteps softly touch the old Bat Trang brick floors. Looking up at the curved roof eaves hidden behind the canopy of ancient trees, and the ironwood beams joined with ingenious mortise and tenon joints without a single iron nail, I truly understand the humility of ancient Vietnamese architecture. Our ancestors built temples and houses not to flaunt power, but to live in harmony and rely on nature.
I remember those afternoons sheltering from the sun under a cool roof. The space had no air conditioning, only natural breezes blowing through the brick courtyard shaded by mangosteen and thanh tra trees. The Hue-style meal served would only consist of a bowl of baby clam soup with the sweet, clear taste of the lagoon, a plate of mixed fig salad served with crispy rice crackers, and a bowl of fermented soybean paste with a pungent, smoky aroma, all accompanied by the soft, gentle sounds of polite conversation. That meal was not just to satisfy hunger; it was the essence of the land, the diligence of mothers and grandmothers, and a reminder of the bonds and affection shared on the old porch.
And what I miss most, perhaps, is the sound of Hue as evening falls.
Sitting on a small wooden boat drifting down the Perfume River, listening to the water gently lapping against the hull, the bell of Thien Mu Pagoda rings out in slow, rhythmic beats, then fades softly into the calm water. In the corner of the old communal house, the rustling sound of a bamboo broom sweeping up dry leaves blends with the murmurs of elderly people wearing headscarves, sitting and chatting. Those rustic sounds wash away all worries, returning the soul to its most pristine state of peace.
There were times I wondered if the rush of time would fade my love for Hue. But every time I return, I realize that Hue within me still throbs, intact and profound.
Ready for the journey?
