The Yin and the Yang of Cao Dai and Cu Chi

                     

Bus break at the handicraft
factory: Egg Shell Painting.

If ever there were a day of contrasts, this was it. We coughed up six dollars each and signed up for a backpacker tour package – a day trip to the Cao Dai Great Temple and the Cu Chi Tunnels. I’d like to say we started the day at Cao Dai, but, in fact, we started the day on a bus. We spent a long time watching HCMC traffic outside the bus window as we sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat (Hey, is this reminding you of a potty-training book?). We eventually made it outside of the city and were treated to a spine-tingling two and a half hour rodeo ride (How can paved roads feel so bumpy?) to the village of Long Hoa, the home of the Cao Dai sect.

I was completely intrigued. The Cao Dai Holy See is its own village – kind of like a peaceful snow globe in the midst of the chaos of Vietnam. The streets are pristine. The followers walk around in long white robes. It’s a gated community with its own housing, school and medical facilities. I thought, “It’s Hershey, PA minus the scent of chocolate!” Then I saw the temple and had another thought, “It’s the Vatican gone Disney.” This was just plain fun. An enormous half cathedral/half pagoda towered over us decorated with large, multicolored, carved animals. We gawked, and the divine eyes stared back.

There was nothing to do but shed our shoes and go inside for a glimpse of the high noon prayer session. After carefully reading the signs that directed women to the left entrance and men to the right, Brianna and I went left and were promptly shooed back to the men’s entrance. Perhaps they meant for the sign to read, “Right side entrance for Gentlemen and the ATPF (whose girls tower over most gentlemen here).” Inside the temple we found cotton candy colored pillars rising nine stories to a baby blue ceiling with sparkly stars. When the funky music of the single-stringed zither began and the gongs bonged, we retreated to the balcony to watch. Hundreds of robe-clad followers entered in organized lines accompanied by what appeared to be the robe police (women who occupied themselves with arranging everyone’s robes “just so” throughout the service).

Cao Dai Temple was a visual feast and a peaceful respite from the outside world. The indigenous Vietnamese religion draws from Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, native spiritualism, Christianity and Islam. Basically, it offers something for everyone. Our tour guide, Ang, tried to give us an overview of what it meant to be a follower of Cao Daism. I’m sure his explanation was informative and philosophical. However, what I took away was this: “Followers eat nothing but wedgies for two weeks every year in pursuit of uniwersal salwation.” The kids practically needed to give me a veggie to get me to stop laughing.

             

Then there was the yang. A visit to the Cu Chi Tunnels, an underground network of tunnels built and used by the Viet Cong during the Vietnam War, provided a stark counterbalance to the peace, love and harmony of the Cao Dai visit. Our guide gave us an overview of the tunnel system, and then we set off down a wooded path to see for ourselves what war time rural Vietnam looked like. Hidden beneath the beauty of the tropical forest were trap doors into the underground tunnels and booby traps concealing a variety of torturous spikes for enemy soldiers. We saw bomb craters and fighting trenches. Foster and Nolan climbed into a destroyed American tank for some photos. We saw models of soldiers wearing American parachutes as capes, and we visited a reconstructed weapons factory. There was even an opportunity to shoot your own machine gun.

Finally we arrived at the enlarged-for-tourists underground tunnel, and I said, “No thank you.” These tiny, dark, cramped crawl spaces under the ground held no intrigue for me whatsoever. Just the idea of crawling 20, 40 or 60 meters through a tunnel with a gaggle of tourists in front of and behind me made me queasy. The thought that one of our fellow tourists, a new friend from Singapore, was rather large and could easily become wedged in the tunnel did nothing to calm my fears. I opted out and, with Brianna, walked through the fresh, green forest to the tunnel’s exit. John, Foster and Nolan opted for the underground adventure. Their report: “Mom, you would NOT have liked that!” I get claustrophobic in a zippered tent. Underground tunnels are not on my itinerary. Ever.

Not to gender stereotype, BUT…the boys were completely in their element (including the big boy). Nolan and Foster bought bullet-casing souvenirs on the way out. Brianna admired perfume bottles shaped like Vietnamese women in the rice paddies. I swear I did nothing to contribute to this. I’m not interested in war or perfume. I’m donning a long white robe and joining the followers of Cao Dai. I will gladly subsist on wedgies if it guarantees inner serenity and no small dark places. Peace.

Nolan's portrait of his friend on the tour bus.