Return to Khanh Vinh

Decades ago, before Vo Nguyen Giap Road was built, every time I went to Khanh Vinh, it felt incredibly far. Whether it was for writing articles or accompanying charity groups, I even once fell off my motorbike in the Dien Tan new economic zone. Back then, the roads were rough and bumpy, covered in loose stones, or dusty, uneven dirt roads ran through quiet, remote highland villages. The district People's Committee headquarters was a newly built building, still fresh with paint. The few newly constructed roads in the town were named after people from the mountains and forests, such as Pi Nang Xa A Road and Cao Van Be Road…

And the Banyan Tree Inn, nestled beneath a large, lush banyan tree, was once almost the only eatery in town. The district would invite guests to the inn, officials would have lunch there, and charitable groups and working delegations would also stop for lunch. But now it's impossible to find. I even see two Banyan Tree Inns, but neither evokes the same old image. Perhaps it's because the town now has a market and many other shops and restaurants.

A view of Khanh Vinh town. Photo: VINH THANH

But my first memorable experience in Khánh Vĩnh was at the Ama Meo slope. When the district's UAZ vehicle stopped at the top of the slope so we could admire the sky and clouds, looking down into the valley where vast fields of purple and white "reeds" swayed in the wind, I asked the district official, "What do the Raglai people call those reeds down there?" The official looked bewildered. "What kind of reeds?" he asked. "Oh, no, they're not reeds, they're sugarcane, ma'am. The sugarcane they planted couldn't sell, so the villagers just let it flower!" His reply was like a sad cloud covering the romantic mountain scenery. I still remember the feeling of disappointment at that moment.

The Ama Meo Pass has now been widened into a smooth, paved mountain road, and it seems the mountain has been leveled to make it less steep; looking down into the valley, it no longer seems as deep as it once did. At the top of the pass sits a tranquil hammock cafe. At the foot of the pass, on the other side, is a roadside drink stall. The name Ama Meo means "Father Meo," referring to a father whose child is named Meo, but the owner probably didn't understand the meaning of the pass's name, so the sign hanging on the tree in front of the stall reads "A Meo Pass Cafe." Although the pass (seems) not as steep as it used to be, sitting and resting at the A Meo Pass Cafe, watching the trucks loaded with peeled acacia wood slowly crawling up, it still feels like a real... pass.

Upon arriving at Cau Ba commune to inquire about the village elder from years past, I learned that he had passed away long ago. The undulating hills have been leveled. A main road runs through the middle of the village, with houses lined up closely on both sides—a familiar pattern, seemingly reorganized and restructured. The houses are still built on earthen foundations, but the yards and small dirt paths crisscrossing the village are now smooth and clean. A unique aspect of Cau Ba's civilization. The only exception is the main road in the village, which was probably once paved but is now severely damaged. Of course, the black pigs leading their piglets running along the road, as they once did, are no longer seen.

Upon arriving in Son Thai commune to find the suspension bridge across the Trang River connecting the two villages of Bo Lang and Giang Bien, I discovered that the old, slow-moving bamboo suspension bridge has been replaced by a concrete bridge, not very large, but more than enough for the occasional motorbikes that speed across. The people of Bo Lang village seem to have moved further inland, away from the main road. I say "seems" because the landscape has changed considerably; I'm not entirely sure. The old village site is now home to the Da Cuoi restaurant and other shops, not far from the Suoi Da Hon Giao restaurant complex, a stop for travelers going to and from Da Lat via the Khanh Le pass. In the past, all the houses in Bo Lang were built close together on both sides of the road, all made of bamboo on earthen foundations. Now, most have been replaced with brick or wooden houses, with only a few bamboo houses remaining as remnants of the past.

The Thac Ngua suspension bridge is made of iron.

At the entrance to Giang Bien (or Yang Bien?) village, a noodle and offal porridge shop with "vifi" (wifi - the owner misspelled it) stood tall. The noodles and porridge weren't particularly delicious, but the portions were generous, and there was a pretty young girl serving. Although her Vietnamese pronunciation was still a bit rough, after I paid and said goodbye, she still wished me "Have a good trip!" with a lovely smile. Even more endearing was when a young man from the village came into the shop to buy ice; the girl became much more lively and natural. They chatted comfortably in their native language. I suddenly realized the wonder of my mother tongue and was delighted. I wanted to ask her name, but then remembered that the T'rin people don't have surnames. There's only the word "Ca" before the name to indicate female gender and "Ha" to indicate male gender. Despite all these changes, Son Thai still gives the feeling of a remote, isolated village at the very edge of the district, typified by the bumpy, rocky roads within the village.

Besides Yang Bay waterfall, Khanh Vinh also has "Horse Cage, Buffalo Crash, Yang Say/Passing through those three waterfalls, one can sit with arms folded" (a resistance folk song). The Horse Cage waterfall is probably now the Horse Waterfall Bridge. The Buffalo Crash waterfall is said to have a Buffalo Waterfall Bridge as well. It's currently the dry season, and the river water is almost at its bottom. Only during the rainy season and floods can one truly see how fierce the waterfalls are. Beside the new spillway, there are still traces of concrete blocks and iron gabions containing boulders from the old road that were swept away by the flood and haven't gone far. And high above is the iron suspension bridge.

Along the way, seeing landmarks like Suoi Sau village and Ca Hon bridge evokes such a feeling of nostalgia, a feeling as deep as the mountains and forests.

I'm in Khanh Vinh now, but I miss Khanh Vinh. Just miss it, not really regret.

VAN HA

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/nhung-vung-ky-uc/202411/tro-lai-khanh-vinh-c3f3cb9/