The Legend of the Japanese Covered Bridge

All of the little Old Town of Hoi An, beside its river, rests on the back of a giant creature. That is the strange tale people told in the old days. The creature was called the Cù. It was so long that no one could ever measure it. Its head rested in a land far, far away, and its tail stretched over into another distant land. The broad middle of its back lay right under the ground of Hoi An, just where a small stream flowed quietly by.

The tale of the Cù does not belong to any one people. Long ago, Hoi An was a busy port town. Merchant ships from every direction called there, and their masts crowded together like a forest. Three communities lived side by side in the town, as close as old neighbors. They were the Vietnamese, the Japanese and the Chinese. The Vietnamese called the creature under the ground the Cù. The Japanese called it Namazu. The Chinese called it Câu Long. Three names in three languages, all for the same creature, asleep right under the streets.

When the Cù slept soundly, the town was at peace. Sunlight spread over the tiled roofs, trading boats came and went, and the market hummed with life. But now and then, the Cù would turn over in its sleep. Each time it stirred, the old tellers say, the ground underfoot trembled softly. The water in the stream rose a little, and the boats tied along the bank rocked gently, as if they were being lulled to sleep. Because the middle of its back lay right under Hoi An, the whole town felt it whenever the creature moved. Everyone wished for one simple thing: that the Cù would sleep well, and sleep long.

So the three communities sat down together to work out how to keep the Cù lying still. The Japanese were long used to the sea, and to stories of a creature beneath the earth. The Chinese brought their knowledge of the guardian gods. The Vietnamese knew by heart every tide, every rain and every windy season of this land. No one could do it alone. But if all three put their heads together and each lent a hand, it could be done. They decided to build a bridge together, right across the middle of the creature's back.

This was no ordinary bridge. Over it stood a gently curving roof, like the whole roof of a long house laid across the stream. The old tellers say that setting that roof on the back of the Cù was like softly tucking a warm blanket over the creature, so it would feel snug and lie still. Good timber was chosen piece by piece. Some sawed the wood, some raised the pillars, some fitted the beams, and some laid the roof tiles. The three communities shared the work, and the sound of chisels and saws rang out beside the stream all day long.

Still, the people of old felt that a bridge alone was not quite enough. The legend says that in the very middle of the bridge, they also placed a seal, a very gentle lock. The lock did not hurt the Cù, and it did not bind the creature in any way. It was more like a soft promise laid on the creature's back, like a lullaby hummed very low. Hearing that lullaby, the Cù closed its eyes, breathed evenly, and sank into a deep, deep sleep. From then on, whenever the drowsy creature began to turn over, the lock would softly remind it, and it would doze off again, quiet and content.

In the middle of the bridge there was also a small shrine. Inside it, people reverently worshipped Bắc Đế Trấn Võ, the deity who watches over rivers and waters and keeps the villages at peace. The people of old believed that with him seated there day and night, the Cù would sleep all the more soundly. They believed the land and waters around Hoi An would always stay calm and in harmony. Every early morning, a thin trail of incense smoke rose gently in the heart of the bridge. It carried a prayer for a peaceful day.

Then, at the two ends of the bridge, people placed guardians carved from wood. At one end sat a pair of monkeys, in attendance. At the other end sat a pair of dogs, keeping watch. It was said that the monkey and the dog are clever and loyal animals, so they were given the task of staying awake while the Cù slept. Others add that the bridge was begun in a year of the Monkey and finished in a year of the Dog. So those two animals were carved as statues and set on guard, so that no one would forget when the bridge was born. The monkeys and dogs just sat there, in rain and in sun, their eyes turned outward to either side, never once leaving their posts.

After that, the Cù slept in peace. Hoi An no longer swayed. Streets of houses rose close together on both sides of the stream. The markets were crowded, and trading boats came and went without end. Vietnamese, Japanese and Chinese people crossed the bridge every day. They met in the middle, greeted one another in three languages, and then laughed together. The bridge kept the Cù lying still, and it also drew the three communities closer.

The story may sound like a tale told by the fireside. Yet the bridge is real, and it still stands today. The people of Hoi An call it Chùa Cầu, and in English it is known as the Japanese Covered Bridge. It also has another lovely name, Lai Viễn Kiều, which means the bridge that welcomes guests from afar. It is a small bridge with a curving roof, its reflection resting on the stream below. At one end sits the pair of monkey statues, in attendance. At the other end sits the pair of dog statues, keeping watch. So many years have passed, and still they sit there without a sound. Quietly they keep watch so that the Cù sleeps soundly, and the Old Town stays at peace beside the still water.