A Glimpse of Cuu Long, or Nine Dragons

By Lochna Menon

Photos by Audrey Samuel

The Mekong River is a source of life and income to those who strive for a living along its fertile banks, all the way from its source, through Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia and South Vietnam where it flows into the South China Sea. The Mekong Delta has nine river ‘mouths’ that suggests the reason for its Vietnamese name: Cuu Long, or Nine Dragons, hinting at the vastness of the river and its delta. Following a bustling four-hour bus ride from Ho Chi Minh City to the outskirts of the Mekong Delta, the sight of a deep, wide and murky river greeted us, green trees lining its banks on the other side.

The Delta is made up mostly of streams, marshland, and islets as we came to see through a boat tour, where we saw many houses built on stilts, bushes, trees and thick undergrowth, wooden boats and aquatic plants crowding the surface of the water. On the way to one of the islets, we saw a Cao Dai temple, its outer walls painted in bright colours with the signature left Eye; and many Cathedrals with tall spires, most of them with a statue of the Jesus Christ beckoning the onlooker to come toward the building. Bridges made of bamboo - some of wooden planks and others made of tar and bitumen for movement of vehicles - connected the many islets together. Nevertheless, boats are still a popular mode of transport in these parts, a tradition passed down through the family line no doubt.

‘In Search Of’ Travelers being rowed in small boats.

The tour guide took us in small boats to an island where we were to have lunch in a restaurant. Opposite it was a mata kucing (as we call it in Malay) orchard; we picked a few fruits, its sweet and juicy flesh soothing our empty stomachs and for a moment, the warm and sticky sheen of sweat on our arms cooled somewhat. On the way, I noticed that there were lots of trees bearing fruits such as rambutan, custard apple and many others. Lunch was a simple affair: spring rolls, steamed rice, boiled vegetables, a portion of pork (to the horror of our Muslim travelers who had no choice but to pile on the veggies instead) and mata kucing for dessert.

The tour guide also led us to a bee farm where we were served tea with some honey and royal jelly, another substance manufactured by hardworking bees, a by-product which boasts amazing healing powers. The tea and the honey was nothing great but the royal jelly was rich in flavour and texture – excessively sweet and milky. Led out of the bee farm, we made our way to a souvenir area where we witnessed the procedure of coconut candy and rice paper production. Rows of bottles stood proudly, their transparent bellies full of wine and snakes, sometimes scorpions. A brave traveler named Farah dared to taste this snake wine and remarked on its potent taste: “It tastes a lot like Bak Kut Teh – just stronger”. 

Squeezing lime to add a sour tang to tea already sweetened with honey and royal jelly.

That night, after we had comfortably settled ourselves in our respective rooms, we set about combing the streets – searching for a place to eat, our bodies weary from the days travelling. We found a place called Cappuccino that ironically served pasta, pizzas and risotto, and I have to admit that the pasta I had there was one of the best I have ever tasted (and reasonably priced too!). Across the road, some women were selling Vietnamese straw hats, sugarcane juice which they combined with lime and asam, and fruits such as mangosteen, durian and rambutan. 

Behind them stood a tourist shopping centre where scarves, t-shirts, jewellery and other decorative products and basic amenities were sold, overlooking the Mekong River. As expected the view was pure magic; majestic and overwhelming especially under the moonlight.

The next day began early, waking up at six thirty in the morning to vacate the hotel at seven. This time round we headed to a small community where houses were made of wood and brick and huddled close, reminiscent of the urban kampungs in Kuala Lumpur. As we walked on, the tour guide brought us to a house and the very first thing we saw was a civet cat in a cage, followed by pigeons. As we ventured a little further, we saw heavy machinery and the familiar sight of rice paper. Our tour guide explained that this was a rice noodle-making facility, and told us that rice noodle was basically shredded rice paper. Roaming around the premises, we found a pig sty, facing the open area where the rice paper was being sun-dried. Rice is a key ingredient - used in the making of rice paper, its husk used as fuel and later recycled as fertilizer in paddy fields. Most of the Delta people survive on farming the land and producing local goods that are steeped in the culture and customs of the Delta people, but it does little to improve their living standards.

Traveler Mumbi picking up the rice paper and laying it out on a rattan mat to be dried out in the sun.

The rice barn was last on the agenda: we walked a little distance away to a huge barn, the air musty with the smell of rice-dirt. Vietnam, we were told, is the second largest exporter of rice - the Mekong Delta is fertile with plenty of water (making perfect conditions for rice production). Rice was separated into six different categories: rice for consumption, brown rice which is also unpolished rice, husk, broken rice, yellow rice dirt, and white rice dirt – each with its own unique uses. The barn had some heavy equipment which was used to separate the rice grain from its husk and also to segregate the different kinds and types of rice products.

The best, I believe is saved for the last. The highlight of the trip was our visit to the Cai Rang  floating market, the biggest in the Mekong Delta. Our boat drove to the middle of the Cai Rang market and as the smaller boats were too small to accommodate us all, many had to stay behind. Nevertheless, we entertained ourselves by climbing onto a bigger boat to eat some very tasty and juicy pineapple and drink delicious Vietnamese iced-coffee (my favourite and a definite must-try). Once our comrades returned, we took their places in the smaller boats.

Cai Rang at first sight.

As soon as we entered the area where the boats congregated, I immediately understood why we needed the smaller boats – to navigate through the maze of boats. It was obvious to us that most of these boats functioned as houses as some had hung out their laundry to dry, while others had shrines and pets on their boats. Little kids who ought to be in school assisted their parents with their daily chores. Most of these boat-families serve as middlemen between the farmers from the islets and bulk buyers from the more developed townships. Most of the sellers have produce hanging from a pole, an indication of what they are selling. For example, a person selling watermelons would hang a watermelon from a pole, as in the picture below.

  

A boat selling watermelon along the floating market.

 A two-day tour of the Mekong Delta is hardly sufficient to see all that it had to offer in terms of culture, knowledge and experience. When we left the Delta, I was happy in the knowledge that we were now heading back to Ho Chi Minh City which I came to regard as home. However, the Mekong Delta represents to me the kampung I never had. Since I first learnt of the Delta in my geography class, I had always viewed it as a pulsing source of life, like the dragons it was named after; and I was satisfied to be part of the culture and community that has blossomed from it, if only for such a short while.

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Lochna Menon is majoring International Studies and Writing. An independent woman who loves the idea of a birds’ view of the world, she is very curious - with a mission to inspire and be inspired.

 

Lurking in the Murky Waters of Mekong

By Sabrina Kamaruddin

Pictures of courtesy Google

The Academy Award-winning movie Spirited Away introduces to the international plane a crucial mythological element of many Asian cultures; the character of Haku, short for Nigihayami Kohaku Nushi (literally “god of the swift amber river”), is not an estranged image of Southern and Eastern Asian native beliefs. The basic narrative of Haku, a river god trapped in the form of a human boy, would not usually appear abnormal to people from the surrounding regions of Southeast Asia for a number of reasons: firstly, the supernatural transformation of a being into another organic form is commonplace in much Asian folklore, seen in many Hindu and Buddhist stories and the basic concept of  karma; secondly, the dragon and its scaly skin such as the serpent are common mythological creatures and play a significant part of folklore in this part of the world.

The depiction of Haku typifies the Asian dragon who is unlike the larger, winged dragon of Western folklore

No visit to the Mekong River should go without a mention of its native myths. Each culture manifests myths by different names, and carries with them different lores, all versions of the creature star in significant otherworldly phenomenons revolving around, in essence, similar fundamental beliefs. The strong Hindu and Buddhist influence over China, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia resurface in their folklore in the form similar to Haku – native people of the Mekong from each of these countries believe in the existence of a snakelike, dragon creature that resides in the river warding off venerators.

The origin of the word naga is possibly from the Hindi naag which literally translates to ‘snake’. Stories involving the nagas are still very much a part of contemporary cultural traditions in regions where Hindu and Buddhist beliefs are still integral in the modern culture (both directly and not), an area stretching from India to Japan. For example in India, nagas are considered nature spirits and the protectors of springs, wells and rivers. They bring rain, and thus fertility, but are also thought to bring disasters such as floods and drought, and are strongly associated with the aquatic—rivers, lakes, seas, and wells—and are generally regarded as guardians of treasure.

Alongside the unicorn, turtle and phoenix, the dragon is an elemental creature in Buddhist mythos

The legend of the naga is a strong and sacred belief held by people living along the Mekong River. Many pay their respects to the river because they believe the naga still rules it, and locals hold an annual sacrifice for the naga. Each ceremony depends on how each village earns its living from the Mekong River — for instance, through fishing or transport. Local residents believe that the naga can protect them from danger, so they are likely to pay respects to the naga before taking a boat trip along the Mekong River.

A cobra-like deity in Hindu mythology, the dragon-like naga gets a Buddhist spin in Thailand. Legend has it that phaya nak (river dragon) raised Lord Buddha over a flood during his last pre-enlightenment meditation. The creature then welcomed his final incarnation on Earth by spitting fire skywards, at what became the end of Buddhist Lent. Alleged displays of the phaya nak’s combustible breath have re-emerged beneath October full moons in the form of fireballs ever since, as a sort of tribute to Buddha. This paranormal activity, known as bung fai paya nak (naga fireballs) has been attracting attention from many tourists and scientists alike, although there are theories that they are not natural and are in fact man-made. 

Remarkable fireballs emerging from Mekong river near the Nong Khai province of Thailand

These naga stories vary little from one culture to the next, especially in regions around Southeast Asia whose cultural origins overlap, and grand narratives as well as minor ones like those of the naga being a shared belief. Like the message I pushed across in my previous article of the Hindu faith in Vietnam, the story of the naga reiterates the idea that Vietnam and the home country of most of us travellers, Malaysia, is essentially not too different. Although years of toil, political erosion of culture and the causal determinist effects of religious discourse has led to what may appear as superficial fissure between our cultures, we are historically and culturally very similar indeed.

Sabrina Kamaruddin aka Sabariah/Sabsab/Sabby/Sabby K/Sabo/Sab/Sabs/S'bina/Sabun/Sbrnk(read:sabrenka)/Bina/Been/Na/Bimbom/Nyet/Nyak/Flabby is trying to survive her Communications major. Rod Steward is her deity

Architecture: The Cosmopolitan Chapter (Pt 2)

Can you spell interesting, individual and inspired? Hello again me hearties and welcome to architecture part deux. This entry is a little more personal, as I ventured out and especially because after a series of failed excursions and being cheated by a taxi the size of a Kancil, Fei and I managed to get a few decent pictures to show you how Vietnamese architecture really is like no other. It’s just so cool, the farther out of town you wander!

An apparent style of architectural design that is unique yet maintaining some distinctively similar traits

Vietnamese houses have long been associated with business. Most people run businesses and live above their workplace, such that a shop house culture has emerged in relation to the way buildings are designed. Therefore, most houses within the city are tall and narrow. This trend has also made its way beyond the skirts of the city into the suburbs. When a house is built, it is tall and narrow such that subsequent houses are also designed in the same fashion.

On Day 5 after our session at Caritas and some super kow (which means “thick” in the Hokkien dialect) Vietnamese drip coffee, Fei and I went walking around the city on the lookout for interesting-looking buildings. We noticed that French architectural styles were prominent almost everywhere, particularly with contemporary architecture, in particular the shophouses. Each floor typically has a balcony with double doors that have two adjacent independent panels hinged on each side of the doorway.– a characteristic that is distinctively French. Most windows still have louvered shutters, some even incorporated with a window box. Furthermore, designers are expressedly creative, with houses painted a multitude of colours. For instance, the Bitexco Financial Towers demonstrates beyond what the eye can see amidst a dense and busy rainbow. Houses are beautiful to look at because they display designs that are incredibly intricate. Some are taller, some are shorter, but neither one is any wider.

A typical modern example of a Vietnamese home

But back to the matter at hand, I’d also like to express how skillful Vietnamese contractors are. They are able to remove an entire shop house in the middle of a compact row and, in its place, erect a new one, linking it together seamlessly with the rest. Their imagination and creativity are showcased by the complexity of their designs. The hotel we are staying in is a good example. The Mai Vy hotel is not the prettiest building in the alley, but I must describe how ingenious the arrangements of the rooms are made in a building that is about 6 metres wide and 6 storeys high.

First off, the staircase is a square spiral that leads to three rooms on each floor. Each room has its own bathroom, a wardrobe, a dressing table and one or two double beds with simple but functional frames. There are compartments on the headboard which look like they are merely part of the design, but they can be used to stow relatively flat items such as laptops. And I know this has not got much to do with the article but I must express my gratitude and enjoyment during our stay at Mai Vy Hotel. The staff are extremely friendly, helpful and accommodating, demonstrating a fine example of true Vietnamese hospitality.

One of the highlights of our exploration of architecture was the trip to the Bitexco Financial Tower, the tallest building in Saigon. It dwarfs the city’s other structures, standing at 262 metres and 68 storeys high. The shape of the building was inspired by that of a lotus bud, symbolizing the gradual blooming and integration of Vietnamese traditional culture with aspirations after progress. At night, the Bitexco Financial Tower is almost invisible, save for the lights at the top that glitter like diamonds.

This monumental modern structure is the brainchild of property developer Vu Quang Hoi, who invested about 300 million US dollars into his project. According to the information we have gleaned, it was his way of showing that Vietnam is no longer a war-torn country but an integrated player in the arena of the global economy. His idea became a reality with the help of world-renowned architect Carlos Zapata.

6000 plates of glass were used to clothe the structure, the glass plates imported from Belgium and fashioned in South Korea. This special glass was chosen for its superior qualities of displaying resistance to wind forces and reducing external noise. I noticed how the glass was double layered, the two layers of glass separated by space while walking around the observation deck.

The Bitexco Financial Tower

From the observation deck, the whole of Saigon stretches into the distance, beyond what the eye can fully see. It was really cloudy because it had just started to rain heavily as we entered the Bitexco Financial Tower. Regardless, the view was simply amazing. The wide curves of the Saigon River snaking its way through the city, past the cargo docks and ferry jetties provided a contrast between the developed city and the neighbouring countryside. While the observation deck is on the 49th floor, other buildings in Saigon are only a few stories high; this huge disparity in height makes the bird’s eye view of other buildings a majestic one from the observation deck. Countless blocks of thickly concentrated shophouses make up the cityscape like blocks of multicoloured Legos. In comparison, our own Petronas Twin Towers of 88 storeys, surrounded by other really tall buildings, is only open for viewing from the 41st floor. In other words, you have a better view of Saigon than of Kuala Lumpur.

All rainbows and no unicorns. Amazing view.

To sum it up, Saigon is heading towards a fabulous future of progress whilst maintaining its wonderful jumble of East-meets-West and modern-meets-traditional. In this city where no two buildings are alike - where architectural designs are brilliant - and the people are wonderful and warm, I’ve fallen head over heels in love with Saigon. I HEART YOU SAIGON!

Read Part 1 here.

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Farah Zulkefly, majoring in Journalism and Communications, is an omnivorous being who loves spending time in the depths of the ocean where humans can't talk with turtles and other reef inhabitants. She has a closet love for architecture and interiors but cannot draw to save her life.

Diary Entry Day 8: Floating Markets, Rice Farms, and a Road Trip

By Mumbi Munene
Photos from various sources

The morning sunshine streaming in through my window woke me up with a stir, but it was the memory of our tour guide’s voice saying that we were to be “ready at 7.15am” that made me summon enough energy to get out of bed and hop into the shower. We were to assemble in the hotel lobby, and as soon as I got there I was greeted by the sight of my fellow travelers hunched over the lobby chairs, weary from seven nights of enjoyment and blog work.

After we had all huddled in the hotel lobby, we headed out towards a large boat that took us to Cai Rai, one of the largest floating markets on the shore of Can Tho City, which lies on the Mekong River. The markets hosts up to 900 small and large boats selling various types of fruit and vegetables. When we arrived at the market, it became clear to me that the floating market not only sold fruits and vegetables, but also sustained an entire floating lifestyle. The sight of children sleeping in hammocks and dogs guarding boats made it apparent that traders not only sold their produce on the river, but also lived on the boats they use for trade. The floating market of Cao Rai is therefore extremely unique, not only because it is a market on water, but because the traders essentially live their lives afloat. As soon as we arrived at the market we were transferred into a smaller boat that made mobility around the water much easier. We were given a tour of the entire market. I was amazed by the sight of hundreds of boats not only selling market goods, but also providing transport and even toilet facilities for tourists and locals. The traders were keen to flock their boats around our little tourist-filled vessel in an attempt to sell us their exotic fruits or (much needed) morning coffee. Personally though, the most amusing sight was that of a petrol station that seemed to be randomly floating on the water surrounding it. I had expected a floating market to be a series of small boats selling fruits and vegetables, but was amazed to realize that an entire community existed not only around the river, but also on it.

After observing the floating lifestyle, we headed to a rice farm to learn how rice noodles are made. But even after observing all the stages of the process, I am still quite confused about how rice transforms into noodle. After a long period of observing the noodle making process, some of us travelers were distracted by the sight of the animals around the rice farm. While one traveler received a dirty hug from a particularly friendly pig, another was amazed by the sight of a large cock standing proud in a small cage and yet another made friends with a fluffy and friendly puppy. It seemed that we were all becoming rather comfortable with the docile rural lifestyle, and were quite content to take a few minutes observing all the animals around the farm. The next tour activity took us to a rice factory where over 1000 kilograms of rice are produced every hour. However, the factory was so hot and humid, I could hardly concentrate on the information we were receiving from the tour guide.  He informed us that Vietnam is the third largest exporter of rice in the world and that Southern Vietnam experiences three harvests a year, with each harvest lasting up to three months.

The machine used to make the noodles

It was only 11:30am when we boarded our boat back to Can Tho City and were released for lunch. After a hearty Chinese meal, we set out to explore other parts of the city. Near our lunch restaurant was a beautiful Pagoda called the Chua Ong Temple, and it was one of the most intricate and beautifully designed temples I have ever seen. We then visited a large statue of Ho Chi Minh in the center of the city. I spent my final moments in the Delta city buying the renowned traditional straw hats that are worn by women in Vietnam.

The towering statue of Ho Chi Minh in Can Tho City

The rest of the day was spent on the bus heading back to Saigon City. I spent most of the journey trying to figure out how eight days could have gone by so quickly, and I did not want to come to terms with the fact that we would soon be back in Malaysia. It seemed everyone else on the bus was on the same wavelength because the bus trip was particularly quiet and every traveler appeared lost in their own thoughts.
We came back to the hotel, happy at the sight of our familiar Aunty and man Friday, Sun (pronounced Seern). While some chose to rest and others decided to go food hunting, I quickly decided to get my activites done for the day, catching up on a delicious tau foo far with Dr. Yeoh followed by an Italian dinner. Till tomorrow, ciao bella!

MumbiMunene is pursuing an Undergraduate Degree in International Studies and Economics. She is in Malaysia as an exchange student from the Monash South Africa campus, and is keen to grab all opportunities to travel within and beyond Malaysia.

Food of Saigon, Part 2: 中国人

By Andrea Tee
Photos by Christyna Fong


Vietnam existed under Chinese rule for over a thousand years, finally gaining independence in 938AD. It’s hardly a surprise, then, that many aspects of Vietnamese culture exhibit a heavy Chinese influence.

The Chinese Imperial palace in Central Vietnam – A remnant of the millennia-long Chinese rule

(Image sourced from Wikipedia)

Apart from the omnipresent French bread, typical street food in Saigon revolves around rice and noodles, the most celebrated noodle dish being the world-famous phở (pronounced ‘fuh’). Phở is the quintessential Vietnamese dish—one I’ve had many times before in Vietnamese restaurants. Of course, a Vietnamese dish cooked in Malaysia can hardly hold a stick up to the real thing. I was, I admit, terribly single-minded in my pursuit of the perfect bowl of noodles from the moment I set foot in this country.

The amazing, the incompareable Phở

Saigon did not disappoint. The first thing we had upon checking into our hotel was a beautiful, big bowl of Phở bò (Beef soup noodles), and Phở gà for those who prefer chicken. For those who are unacquainted with this dish, Phở is served in two parts- a plate of raw vegetables (Thai basil, onions, cilantro and bean sprouts) and noodles with soup. The veggies are steeped in a steaming hot bowl filled with noodles, rare, thin slices of beef and a savoury beef soup stock.


The bowl is finished with a squeeze of lime and some chillies, and it is truly one of the most delicious dishes I have ever had the pleasure of sampling. The lime adds a level of complexity to the soup, which is warm and satisfying. The beef, cooked through by the heat of the soup, is incredibly tender. The noodles are just the right amount of firmness, and the wonderful thing is that every table is equipped with a cruet of chilli sauce, extra lime and hoisin sauce such that the spiciness is customizable.


Phở, while essentially a Chinese noodle dish, is believed to have both French and Chinese influences. A theory about the origins of its name suggests that it derives from the French ‘feu’ (fire), as in the French dish of pot-au-feu. Like Phở, it uses the French method of adding charred onion to the broth for color and flavour, which lends it its distinctive deep, sweet fragrance.


Others believe that the origin of the word derives from the Chinese ‘fen’ (粉), and many of the spices used in the broth (such as the star anise and the cinnamon) are staples of Chinese cuisine. It is currently day 8, and I have since had many bowls of Phở. None of them have left me disappointed, and the only thing I could have wished for was a deeper spoon.


Interestingly, none of the places we have been to in Saigon or the Mekong Delta have used deep, Chinese soup spoons. Rather, noodles are eaten with chopsticks and western, metal spoons—yet another symbol of French-Chinese fusion.

Spring rolls and dipping sauce

Another quintessentially Vietnamese dish we tried were spring rolls wrapped with rice paper. Every bite was a delicious mix of soft, chewy and crunchy textures. Vietnamese spring rolls are fresh-tasting and, for me, ultimately preferable to the deep fried Chinese ones. 

Crab noodles

Glutinous Rice

Near the National University of Vietnam is a little shop that sells delicious crab noodles, and glutinous rice. The noodles are shaped quite like laksa noodles, albeit much firmer, and the soup is much like Penang Hokkien Prawn Mee, albeit filled with gloriously huge chunks of crab. The glutinous rice, on the other hand, is covered with a layer of salted, dried prawns and shredded chicken. Both are utterly wonderful.

Chinese cakes, cut in a wedge style

Many of the Chinese cakes and ‘kuehs’ here are similar to the ones in Malaysia. Sweet, glutinous rice cakes are popular here, and though the texture is often firmer and they are cut differently (in wedges instead of small rectangles), the taste is very much the same.

It is so easy to be passionate about food in Vietnam. I don’t believe I am an easy person to please, but nearly every gastronomic experience I have had here has been a tremendous and satisfying experience. I found that keeping out of the shopping malls and chain restaurants, and searching for small, roadside stalls is an almost sure way to find amazing food.


Dishes here are such a fascinating fusion of French and Chinese cuisine, stemming from hundreds of years of history. All of these unique dishes have been tried, tested and ultimately perfected over the ages, to create something so quintessentially Vietnamese.

I love everything about Vietnam. I love its people, its architecture, its language. I love the sense of community and overall generosity of spirit, and most of all I love its food.


9 days was scarcely enough, and I will most certainly be back with an open mind, heart and an even more vacant stomach.


Andrea Tee, 22, is a Communications and Writing major in her final year. She reads, writes, goes on the internet and does other stuff sometimes.