The Tomb of Khai Dinh and the Thien Mu Pagoda

On the 6th of November 1925, Vietnamese Emperor Khải Định died.

Upon his death, he was succeeded by his only son, Bảo Đại, who would become the final emperor of Vietnam.

His Imperial Majesty's nine-year reign as the twelfth emperor of the Nguyễn dynasty was marked by increasing French administrative control and growing criticism from Vietnamese nationalists, who viewed him as a symbol of colonial subservience.

Although his authority was severely limited under French rule, the emperor commissioned ambitious works, most notably his own lavish mausoleum surrounded by rolling green hills just on the outskirts of the imperial city of Hue.

After lunch in Hue, Dominik and I pulled up outside of the Imperial Tomb in a taxi. We were greeted by row upon row of carved stone mandarins, military officials, horses, and elephants, standing guard over the tomb of the penultimate emperor for eternity.

Located on the verdant Châu Chữ Mountain, the tomb became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993. Despite its popularity, though, I didn't know about it, and it somehow flew under our radar when Pinky and I spent time in Hue several years back.

The main building in the compound is the Thiên Định Palace, which sits at the top of the hillside and is reached by a long series of steep stone staircases.

Unlike the more traditional tombs of earlier Nguyễn emperors, Khải Định’s tomb is an eclectic mixture of Vietnamese, European, and East Asian architectural styles. The exterior is built largely from concrete (controversial for being too modern and Western at the time) yet is decorated with traditional and elaborate dragons, clouds, and other imperial motifs, while the interior is even more extravagant.

At the center of the palace is an elaborate bronze statue of the emperor on a throne, beneath which lies his actual burial chamber. The enormous expense of the tomb was controversial even during his lifetime, particularly at a time when Vietnam was under increasingly intrusive French colonial rule. There is no denying, however, that it is an extraordinarily beautiful final resting place and very much befitting an emperor.

Back in a taxi, we drove on through the rolling hills and forest-clad mountains to the Thien Mu Buddhist Temple, also known as the Heavenly Lady Pagoda.

The iconic seven-tiered pagoda on the banks of the Perfume River dates back to 1601 and is considered to be a symbol of Hue.

According to legend, a mysterious old woman dressed in red and green appeared on the hill where the pagoda now stands and foretold that a powerful lord would come and build a Buddhist temple there to strengthen the land's spiritual energy. When Nguyễn Hoàng, the first of the Nguyen lords whose descendants would eventually sit the imperial throne, heard the story, he supposedly took it as a divine sign and ordered a temple to be built on the site in 1601.

Over the centuries, the temple became closely intertwined with the history of the Nguyen dynasty. The emperors treated Thien Mu as a national pagoda, repeatedly expanding and renovating it until it became the magnificent Buddhist complex filled with halls, courtyards, towers, and gardens that it is today.

But Thien Mu is not merely a relic of Vietnam's imperial past. The temple also played an important role in the country's turbulent modern history. In 1963, during the "Buddhist Crisis" under the South Vietnamese government, monks and Buddhists gathered here to protest religious persecution. President Diem was a Roman Catholic, and his perceived pro-Catholic policies antagonized many Buddhists. Furthermore, the pacifistic Buddhist sangha of southern Vietnam was highly critical of the war.

A small blue Austin Westminster displayed on the grounds is the very same car that carried the monk Thích Quảng Đức from this very temple to Saigon, where he famously self-immolated whilst meditating in protest against the regime. You've probably seen the famous photo.

We arrived back in the city in early afternoon. It had been a long day with an early start, and we were hungry!

There was one dish that I had been really excited to try and had been disappointed when Dominik and I had found it closed the day before.

I was thrilled, then, when we arrived at a tiny little alleyway filled with cramped metal tables and tiny plastic seats to order a serving of com hen, or baby basket clam rice.

Ordering was a bit chaotic! The restaurant was noisy and the staff, bustling from table to table as people shouted out their orders, were harried. Nevertheless, I was able to order a bowl of com hen (15K VND, or about $0.57 USD) and watched as the staff loaded up a bowl of rice with all the requisite toppings. The dish arrived shortly along with the traditional bowl of clam broth on the side.

The com hen was delicious! I liked how soft and tender the little clams were, and how they gave the rice dish a savory, meaty seafood flavor. The pork skins and shallots added a nice contrasting crunch, and the whole dish was filling, satisfying, and perfectly savory.