Hue in the changing of seasons

These days, hearing the news about storms and floods in Hue City, perhaps the heart of every Hue lover can not help but tighten. Because Hue always has a very unique feature, a unique feature that anyone who has come to this imperial land will never forget.

If there were no heavy rains and vast seas, this season in Hue would be the days of the changing seasons. Hue is very unique, but the mornings of the changing seasons here are even more unique. Both gentle and fragile, like the white ao dai still carrying the scent of sunlight of schoolgirls crossing Trang Tien Bridge.

I often go to the banks of the Perfume River early in the morning. Unlike the past few days when the water is so high that the banks are invisible, the Perfume River is unusually calm on the changing of seasons. The water has no ripples, flowing slowly like a wordless stream of memories. At the foot of the Phu Xuan Bridge, a few old people are practicing Tai Chi. The sound of steady breathing blends with the chirping of birds in the dark green canopy. The sticky rice and noodle sellers start to light a fire. The smell of smoke mixes with the scent of ginger and fried onions, spreading lightly on the water surface, the city is still silent as if listening to its own breathing.

Early mornings in Hue are not hurried. People walk slowly, speak softly, and even their gazes are gentle. There are no urgent car horns or hurried footsteps. Hue people seem to be accustomed to living slowly. Perhaps it is the gentle change of seasons that makes people reluctant to rush, reluctant to hurt any beautiful moment.

Truong Tien Bridge, Hue City. Photo: QUANG MINH

The change of seasons in Hue is not as obvious as in Hanoi , but anyone who is observant will notice it through every change, even the smallest ones. The leaves on the trees along Le Loi Street turn yellow, falling one by one, as if writing a sad love song. On the old roofs, the moss grows greener, time seeps into each tile, each step, each stone-paved road... The ancient pagodas open early, the scent of incense wafts in the air, the sound of wooden fish echoes out like small waves hitting people's hearts.

I once met an old traditional motorbike taxi driver on Nguyen Truong To Street, who was already taking passengers from the station to the city at dawn. I asked him why he got up so early, he just smiled: “Hue early in the morning is truly Hue. Every day is like reopening a dream.” I didn’t ask anything more. That statement was enough for me to understand that in Hue, there are beauties that don’t need to be analyzed, just felt. The change of seasons is a time of change. But in Hue, the change of seasons doesn’t bring about changes but is gentle like the way people change the melody of a folk song. Everything is still the same, but it seems like my heart has changed.

If you stop for a moment in Hue in the morning, you will see that time seems to stop or sometimes passes very slowly. It is as if Hue does not want to grow old, just wants to slowly anchor every beautiful moment, each second and minute. So that the traveler who has just visited once, when leaving, will feel endless regret. The luggage on the trip seems to be heavier by something vague and extremely poignant, a little mist, a little rain, a little silence, of course a lot of nostalgia.

The TV was still broadcasting the weather reports, the flood warning sirens were blaring in the background of the image of the Imperial City submerged in water. How pitiful, Hue!

NHAT PHAM

Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/hue-ngay-giao-mua-post821281.html