Huế, Vietnam –
Stairs. Lots of stairs.
Good thing my knees are holding up.
Compared to the other Imperial tombs that I visited in Hue, this one is very compact, and goes pretty much right up the steep mountainside.
Definitely not handicap-friendly.
Not that any of the Imperial tombs in Hue are handicap-friendly, but this one is the least so.
Well, I guess I might as well start climbing.
Huế, Vietnam –
Symmetry.
Some find it comfortable.
Safe.
Balanced.
Predictable.
Others can find it boring.
So, when someone desires symmetry in their abode, it tells you something about them.
And, when you get right down to it, this is an abode.
Just because they’ve been dead for a while…
Huế, Vietnam –
Let’s see, Lake house?
Check!
Personal Theater?
Check!
Housing for concubines?
Check!
Hmm, it seems there was something else needed…
What was it?
Oh yeah! Tomb?
Check! Check! Check!
What can I say; it’s good to be Emperor…
Huế, Vietnam –
The emperor looked angry.
He wasn’t looking at me, and I couldn’t tell at whom his anger was directed.
Suddenly, as he momentarily glanced in my direction, his mood shifted.
He smiled.
The thoughts raced through my head.
Was he smiling at me? Was he smiling because he was pleased with whatever fate he had decided to inflict?
What pronouncement would he utter, and what effect would it have? Would I be dragged away by guards, or left to go on my way unharmed?
Huế, Vietnam –
The car was rusted out with the original paint faded but still showing.
It was obviously a cherished relic, roped off, with a placard in front, proclaiming its holiness. Behind it, on the wall, was an all too familiar image. A monk, sitting on the street in Saigon, immolating himself, as the tensions were rising that would eventually lead to the Vietnam War.
In the famous photo, behind the flaming monk, sat a car. The same car he had driven down from Huế. The very car that stood in this place of honor.
