My Son Sanctuary

Way back in the mists of time, either side of year 0, what is today geographically Viet Nam was divided into 3 parts. The north was populated by the Dai Viet who had come from southern China. Central Vietnam was dominated by the Champa, an Austronesian culture who had sailed to that area from Malaysia in their trading ventures. The southern region in the Ho Chi Minh area and the Mekong Delta was part of the Khmer Empire which eventually shrank to become became Cambodia. 

Indian trade and cultural influence led to the Champa's worship of the god Shiva, the main deity in Shaivism, a branch of Hinduism. Around 500 AD (or CE if you prefer) a Champa king built a series of wooden temples in a valley an hour south west of Hoi An, and named it My Son, meaning beautiful mountain. That mountain is the tallest peak ringing the valley. My is pronounced mē. It was a centre of worship and the burial site for kings and heroes. In the early 800's a catastrophic fire destroyed the entire complex. 

Subsequent rulers rebuilt and expanded the sacred buildings using fired clay bricks. It has not been determined how the Champa fired the bricks, nor why many of those walls and arches are still standing today as no mortar or adhesive is evident. By the time building stopped in the 13th century there were over 70 temples with their associated outbuildings and tombs. Eventually abandoned, the secluded valley was forgotten and it was only rediscovered in 1898 by a Frenchman. Restoration began 1n 1938.  

This is the present day central section of the sanctuary. There are satellite complexes throughout the 4 square km valley. The "beautiful mountain" was very visible on our arrival and then the mists rolled in. Climbing the mountain is prohibited due to numerous land mines from the war. Even the valley has restricted areas. 

During the American War 70% of the buildings were fully or partially destroyed in only one week of  B52 bombings. The craters are still very evident. 

Various countries, primarily India and Japan and also UNESCO are funding reconstruction of some of the buildings. 

The work is not done quickly as funding is minimal. Some before reconstruction and after pics ....

Ironically, the 1100 year old original bricks have better structural integrity than some of the 8 year old reconstruction pieces. The originals were porous, allowing moisture to escape. The new ones (dark on the bottom below) are machine pressed and are degrading quickly. 

Each complex has essentially the same design, the central area being larger and more complex. One walks through a gateway, enters a long building and meditates, then enters through another gateway to the temple. Originally only the king and Shiva priests could enter the inner temple, and for many years women tourists couldn't. Now all may enter the holiest places. On one side of the temples are holy water reservoirs, on the other holy fire buildings (kitchens). 

Not much left of this original structure, bombing the reason, not age.  

There are stele columns and large tablets with Sanskrit writing. 

We were treated to a 20 minute show of traditional Champa costumes, dances and music. 

A second irony is that today only a handful of Champa live in central Vietnam. Because of repeated Chinese invasions in the north, the Dai Viets moved south and by the 14th century became the dominant culture in the former Champa Territory. A small number of Champa now live in southern Vietnam. 

My Son Sanctuary is not nearly as physically impressive as Angkor Wat or Bayon Temple, both in Cambodia, both constructed in the 12th and 13th centuries. But to witness buildings dating to 800 AD still standing, even after terrible bombing and years of weathering is a mighty tribute to a seafaring people who grew deep roots in the soil of this country and fully embraced a foreign religion. 

On our return trip, our tour van stopped at a catering spot for lunch - vegetarian soup, spring rolls, rice, amazingly tender pork, greens and pizza shaped quiche. Then we returned to Hoi An via a 40 minute boat ride on the mighty Thu Bon River. I did manage to chat up my interesting international assortment of travelling companions during the tour - England, Germany, Bulgaria, Iran, Hungary, South Africa and Montreal. The Montreal dad is originally from France. When I asked him what part of France, he replied: "Paris. But Paris is Paris. It is not France." I think he was dissing The City of Light!