Perfume River

A bell rings out from a hill on the riverbank, slow, warm and deep, spreading across the wide water. From the far bank comes the crowing of roosters in the village of Thọ Cương. Between those two sounds lies a river. People long ago wrapped both sounds into two lines of folk verse still known today.

The wind sets the bamboo branches swaying low. The bell of Thiên Mụ, the rooster's crow at Thọ Cương.

The bell is the bell of Thiên Mụ Pagoda. The river is the Perfume River, the soul of Hue. It is not the longest river in Vietnam. Nor is it the widest, or the richest in silt. Yet this water ties together the whole Complex of Hue Monuments, which UNESCO inscribed in 1993. To see why, the story has to go back to where the river is born.

The river has two mother streams, and both rise in the Trường Sơn mountains. The first is the Tả Trạch. It comes down from around Bạch Mã National Park and runs about 67 kilometers. Along the way, it has to leap over 55 waterfalls. The second is the Hữu Trạch, about 60 kilometers long. It makes its way over 14 waterfalls. Added together, that is 69 times the water hurls itself over a fall before the two streams find each other.

They meet at a confluence called Ngã Ba Tuần, which people also call Ngã Ba Bằng Lãng. It lies near the tomb of Emperor Minh Mạng. Only where the two become one does the river truly take its name. From Ngã Ba Tuần all the way to the sea at the Thuận An estuary, the river runs about 33 kilometers, passing through the city of Hue.

People in Hue call it sông Hương. The word hương means fragrance. But how the river came by that name, no one can say for sure. Old tales say that a plant called thạch xương bồ grew thickly along the banks of both mother streams. It is a fragrant plant, and in traditional medicine it is also an herb for long life. Brooks and springs flowing past it slowly took on its scent. When the streams joined into a great river, the water was still fragrant. This is the explanation heard most often, but it is not the only one.

Some people link the name to Lord Nguyễn Hoàng. Others link it to Nguyễn Huệ, Emperor Quang Trung. Still others say the river simply borrowed its name from two areas it flows through, Hương Trà and Hương Thủy. The writer Hoàng Phủ Ngọc Tường made that very puzzle the title of a fine essay, "Who Named the River?" It is an open question, and it seems no one needs a final answer.

Now drift with the current from Ngã Ba Tuần. In that upstream stretch stands the tomb of Emperor Minh Mạng. The tomb of Emperor Gia Long, the founder of the Nguyễn dynasty, stands there too. A little farther down, Thiên Mụ Pagoda comes into view on Hà Khê hill, on the left bank. The bell in the folk verse rings out from right here. Then the river enters the heart of the city and flows past the Imperial City and the Phu Văn Lâu pavilion. To the south, on the right bank, four royal tombs lie close together. Two belong to Emperor Tự Đức and Emperor Thiệu Trị. The other two belong to Emperor Đồng Khánh and Emperor Khải Định. So the river strings together a whole dynasty, from its founding emperor to those who came after. This was Vietnam's last royal dynasty, which reigned from 1802 to 1945.

Out in the river lie three small islets. Two of them are Cồn Hến and Cồn Dã Viên. The third is Bãi Dâu. Cồn Hến, to the east, is famous for cơm hến, a specialty of Hue. It is a bowl of rice tossed with tiny river clams, toasted sesame and peanuts, fresh herbs and a little chili, eaten with the clam broth. Nutty, crunchy, fragrant and hot, all in one mouthful. Cồn Dã Viên was once a royal garden.

Across the river stretches the Trường Tiền Bridge. It is the second symbol of Hue, a companion that never leaves the Perfume River. Many people believe Gustave Eiffel designed it, because the company that bore his name built the Eiffel Tower in Paris. In fact, in 1897, two French firms, Schneider and Letellier, won the competition to design and build the bridge. The Eiffel company came only decades later, to repair and widen the bridge. At the end of 1900, during the reign of Emperor Thành Thái, the bridge was opened.

The name Trường Tiền comes from a mint of the Nguyễn court that stood nearby. The bridge is 402.6 meters long and 6 meters wide. It has six spans and twelve sections. The people of Hue love the bridge so much that they put it into a song.

Trường Tiền Bridge, six sections and twelve spans. I try to follow you, but I cannot keep up. Pity me, my love.

The song swaps the number of spans with the number of sections. Then again, someone rushing to catch up has no time to count right.

Once night has fallen, the Perfume River truly opens its heart. Dragon boats glide softly over the dark water. In the old days, boats like these were only for royalty out to enjoy the view. On board, a few pieces of royal court music and the folk melodies of Hue rise into the air. They blend with the soft lap of water against the hull.

This court music is called nhã nhạc, the learned and refined music of the Nguyễn emperors. Heard closely, the music comes apart into its instruments: the moon lute, the two-string fiddle, the pear-shaped lute, the zither and the flute, then the drums and the gongs. Together they weave pieces such as Phú lục and Mười bản ngự. On November 7, 2003, UNESCO proclaimed the royal court music of Hue a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. The official ceremony took place in Paris on January 31, 2004. Paris again, the city of Eiffel's tower.

At the end of the boat trip, flower lanterns are set on the river one by one. Each small flame flickers on the dark water, sways a little, then drifts off with the current. One lantern, then two, then a whole band of little stars floats slowly toward the sea.

Someone standing on the bank then, watching the points of light drift away and vanish, would find that every name fits. River of fragrance, river of poetry, river of music, river of heritage. On Hà Khê hill, Thiên Mụ Pagoda waits for its next bell. Across the river, the village of Thọ Cương waits for the rooster's crow. And the water, whose naming no one can trace, keeps on flowing. It carries those two sounds toward the sea, as it has for generations.