Arizona flavors iced tea

VNA

Nguyen Trong Binh

An endless stream of people driving motorbikes and cars from various provinces in the Mekong Delta like Hau Giang, Soc Trang, Bac Lieu, Ca Mau, and An Giang flooded the roads near my sister’s house in Vinh Long Province: They had come to see the inauguration of the My Thuan Bridge.

I was one of them.

Excited at the prospect of seeing the country’s first cable-stayed bridge, one that spans the Tien River, a major branch of the Mekong, to link Vinh Long and Tien Giang, I had gone to my sister’s house, eight kilometers from the bridge, the previous day, and got up early the next day for the inauguration.

Smartphones had yet to make an appearance, and I did not have anything to record the scenes. But for the first time in my life I saw that many people gathered at one place. Almost all roads leading to the bridge and the bridge were gridlocked. There were people everywhere.

On the sides of the roads leading to the bridge, locals were selling iced tea and instant noodles to the visitors from noon to late night.

Due to the gridlock, many got stuck for a long time under the scorching sun of southern Vietnam’s dry season, but everybody looked happy, talking and smiling and patiently waiting for their turn to cross the bridge.

The atmosphere made me feel like the bridge had become wings for the entire Mekong Delta to fly high.

Almost a week after My Thuan Bridge opened to traffic, the media and the public still talked about the event with unprecedented excitement.

When I returned the next day to Can Tho University, my teacher read out to us a poem he had written hailing the bridge. He could not hide his pride, and believed that from that moment the delta would thrive.

The reality has been bitterly different.

Twenty years on the delta, where the Mekong River splits into nine major distributaries before reaching the sea, has had several more cable-stayed bridges.

Most recently the Vam Cong Bridge between Dong Thap Province and Can Tho City opened in 2019 after six years of construction and repairs, and will replace the 100-year-old ferry service across the river.

But the delta has failed to “fly high” as its residents had hoped.

Facilitated by its natural terrain and weather conditions, it has for generations been an agriculture and aquaculture hub that meets not just domestic demand but also serves exports, yet it has remained a laggard in socio-economic development.

A new report by the Vietnam Chamber of Commerce and Industry and the Fulbright School of Public Policy and Management in Ho Chi Minh City said in the last 10 years more than 1.3 million people have emigrated from the delta .

According to the 2019 census, the delta had the highest emigration rate among the country’s six distinct regions.

In the five years between April 2014 and April 2019 45 out of 1,000 people had left.

The average for the rest of the country was less than half that: 22.

Those who left cited a worsening climate that no longer allows them to grow crops normally whereas HCMC and its nearby provinces offer them jobs in the services and industrial sectors.

The economic significance of the region has gradually diminished, with its contribution to the country’s economic growth declining steeply from three decades ago.

Spanning more than 3.9 million hectares and with 13 provinces and a city and population of 20 million, a fifth of Vietnam’s, it now accounts for 17.7 percent of the country’s GDP.

There have been so many ideas and proposals to rescue the delta but poor traffic infrastructure is a major bottleneck, and for years the delta has been waiting for investment to be prioritized to mitigate that.

It is the only one of the six socio-economic regions not to have the railroad, not to mention the fragmented and unsynchronized road and waterway networks.

The other five regions are the northern mountains, the Red River Delta, the north central-central coast, the Central Highlands, and the southeast.

Investment in the delta’s traffic infrastructure accounted for only 12.5 percent of the nation’s total in the 2011-15 period.

In the next five years it increased to more than 15 percent or VND65 trillion ($2.8 billion).

Meanwhile, 80 percent of the goods produced there has to be transported to HCMC for domestic distribution and export.

The lack of infrastructure has acted as a drag on investment and economic and tourism development.

“The Mekong Delta is home to a dense network of waterways” is what we learn in school.

That means bridges such as My Thuan and, together with them, an extensive network of roads are what it needs because transport by boat takes much more time than by road.

For the last decade or so the sight of thousands of people getting stuck under the scorching sun when returning back to Ho Chi Minh City and nearby provinces after the Lunar New Year and other holidays has been a recurring one.

Vehicles stuck in a traffic jam on Rach Mieu Bridge in Ben Tre Province in 2019. Photo by VnExpress/Hoang Nam.

National Highways 1A and 50 are the only major links between HCMC and the delta. And in the 20 years since My Thuan Bridge was built, only one expressway has been built to connect the region with the outside world.

That one expressway, HCMC-Trung Luong, only recently got an extension, a section called Trung Luong-My Thuan that now runs 51 km (32 miles), but it took 12 years to complete after a plethora of delays.

I still have my teacher’s poem, but I have stopped dreaming and my aspirations are now more realistic.

Consolidating a transport network that is scientific and modern, both in the water and on land, both highways and railways, is admittedly a big challenge in terms of resources and management, but that will be the only way for us to resolve the ‘rich land, poor people’ paradox that is the delta.

*Nguyen Trong Binh is a teacher at Cuu Long University in the Mekong Delta’s Vinh Long Province. The opinions expressed are his own.

Sitting on the edge of the modern world, the little country Bhutan made a name for itself as the world’s happiest country. Their way of achieving it, with all things considered, can be echoed in Vietnam, as seen from the ample potentialities of the upland province of Yen Bai.

This anticipation is not exactly pulled out of nowhere, for it is grounded on the Yen Bai administration’s decision to include Gross National Happiness, or GNH Index, as one of the touchstones for the 2020-25 term of the municipal Party Committee.

In contrast to the much more well-known Gross Domestic Product (GDP) tally, which promotes a focus on material gain, the GNH Index rewards approaches leaning toward holistic well-being, one that goes beyond economic development.

This was also the secret to the bizarre policy success of Bhutan, which started as a radical initiative by the fourth king Jigme Singye Wangchuck in 1972 and is still upheld to this day.

The question that remains, however, is whether Yen Bai can pick up the rope and improvise its own way toward another GNH success story.

Happiness in the terraced fields

Terraced fields in Yen Bai’s Mu Cang Chai District have enjoyed both authority recognition as a special national site and the ardor of tourists who flock to the area to catch sight of golden paddies during harvest seasons.

During these year-end holidays, income from the crowds of tourists may even exceed the value of the harvest itself.

Seeing the fledging potential in local tourism, several residents of Mu Cang Chai became first-movers of the sector, building unassuming homestay facilities filled with cultural heritage of the land.

One of them is the guest house of Giang A De, a Hmong native in La Pan Tan Commune.

His place proves a real challenge for visitors as it takes a long walk through up a steep slope from the car park to reach the house, but the magnificent view at the end is absolutely worth it – the scenario spreads to the horizon, presenting layers of blue mountain peaks and clouds under the syrupy gleam of the sun.

Giang A De said his income has been axed significantly due to the COVID-19 pandemic that thwarted foreign tourist visits.

However, during this low-demand period, he found time to erect two more bungalows to preempt the next year’s tourism season.

Over the past years, the construction boom has seen intricate wood structures of the local community torn apart to make space for concrete monoliths.

De collected the fine pieces of precious Fokienia wood and reassembled them into two peculiar bungalows of his design.

Sitting in a composition of long-lived wood in the midst of terraced rice paddies like this can make a typical cup of tea or a sip of local corn wine more poetic than any urban experience.

Sensing the demand for a getaway from city dwellers, homestays in the fashion of De’s are emerging as a business trend in Mu Cang Chai.

However, having relished the laid-back experience at De’s place, it becomes clear to any visitor that the formula cannot be replicated with mass tourism or soulless copycats. It lives in fresh air, the woods, and terraced fields rather than concrete or string lights.

On top of that, the lessons of budding indigenous tourism destinations defaced by greed and urbanization in other provinces still stand as cautionary tales for any community tourism aspirants.

It is not easy for the vanguards like De.

“We once gain mere nourishment from the rice paddies, but now it draws in tourists and nourish their eyes. The same paddies also provide us with extra income now. It’s worth hundreds of thousands of dong, the amount that [Kinh people] use to build grand sights,” he said.

Tourists also bring new experiences, including free language lessons and exotic foods for local communities, De pointed out.

“It’s called a win-win economy. For that reason, we have to preserve the paddies, the woods, and nature. Without them, there would be no tourists. No tourists mean no fun,” De said.

“Forest and rice fields are pivotal issues to us,” said Nong Viet Uyen, secretary of the Mu Cang Chai District Party Committee.

After his appointment two years ago, Uyen has always considered the preservation of forests and terraced fields his utmost priority.

Hmong natives in Mu Cang Chai District of Yen Bai Province, Vietnam. Photo: Ngoc Quang / Tuoi Tre

During his time in office, Uyen also learned about the art of keeping terraced fields from the indigenous community.

“Terraced fields are not only agricultural plots but also an important tool of the locals to prevent landslides,” he said.

“It also helps that the terraced fields become a visitor favorite and a driving force for local tourism.”

For the Mu Cang Chai leader Le Trong Khang, the lush and extensive forest of the locale is another thing to be proud of.

“Forest coverage of Mu Cang Chai amounts to 67 percent. Many years ago, we used to see forest fire every time we headed here from the Khau Pha Pass, but the situation has been now put under control,” he recalled.

The flavors of the woodland

Endowed with the most distinct gift of nature, Yen Bai boasts a repertoire of specialties and artisans with fine aromatic qualities, such as pomeloss in Dai Minh, cinnamon in Van Yen, green tea in Suoi Giang, or roses in Nam Khat.

“Dai Minh Commune rakes in around VND50 billion [US$2.2 million] per year from pomelo fruits, a whopping amount for a mountainous locale. It means even more when the profit does not come from the destructive operations such as sand and mineral mining,” said Ta Quang Cong, the leader of Dai Minh Commune, who has a master’s degree in environmental studies.

As of recently, the endemic pomelo of the commune has earned the VietGAP certification for good agricultural practices, which has paved the way for the product to enter big supermarket chains such as Vinmart or Big C.

This also requires the environment of the locale to be kept pristine, as the smallest indication of pollution can lead to the revocation of the certificate.

During this season, the pomelo fruits are glowing gold, effusing a delightful citrus aroma in the garden of Nguyen Van Dinh, a farmer in Dai Minh’s Minh Tan Village.

As per Minh’s estimation, the pomelo garden earns him around VND400 million ($17,000) per year, while some other gardens even make more for their owners.

Yen Bai is also known for its exceptional green tea and cinnamon products, which require a flawlessly unstained environment to develop their finest qualities.

Visitors to Yen Bai can take the opportunity to stay overnight in the tea fields of Suoi Giang Commune, looking up to the Fokienia wood roofing of Hmong people at the foot of Mount Chong Pao Mua.

These wood rooking tiles bend themselves slightly under the sun to let light beams inside the house, but will shade the house tightly against rainwater during the downpours.

Surrounded by old tea trees that soar over the roof, sensing the faint but everlasting scent of woods mixing with a tea flower aroma, with a cup of fresh green tea in hand and the flickering flames of firewood as the companion, one would understand the concept of GNH without a word spoken: it is as simple as remembering to live in the present.

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“Bánh hộc” has been customary for Mai Xa villagers for holidays, particularly the Tet holiday. It is to serve their guests and a gift for those far from home. The cakes taste great with tea.

You can hear the sound of pounding cakes throughout the village if you visit Mai Xa. Following the sound, we visit the family of Mr. Truong Khac Luyen and Mrs. Ta Thi Thanh. Their family has made this special cake for 15 years.

Luyen explained that the cake was named after the rectangular wooden mold frame with the length of 30cm, the width of 12cm, and the depth of 6-7cm.

“This Tet (lunar New Year), my family made 100 cakes mostly for gifts and for our own use. We could only make cakes in our spare time out of working hours, hence can’t make a lot,” said Luyen.

The ingredients for the cake are glutinous rice and flour, fresh ginger, sugar, and peanuts. Though they are easy to find, the preparation takes a lot of time and energy.

The glutinous rice is dry roasted with sand and under high heat. Ginger is peeled off and crushed into small pieces. Sugar is simmered over small heat to make it sticky. Peanuts are dry roasted. All prepared ingredients are mixed well and poured into the mold frame. The hardest part is the pounding which requires a strong person.

Cake markers have to use both hands for two wooden pestles to press down the mixture until the ingredients are well blended. It takes seven to 10 minutes for the pounding. The cake has a good combination of the smooth glutinous rice, the sweet of sugar, the zing of ginger, and the peanut flavor. All make the cake savory and interesting.

The middle-aged people often have this cake when drinking tea.

Four generations making “bánh hộc”

In Mai Xa village, everyone knows about the family of Mr. Truong Van Thang and Mrs. Le Thi Dung whose four generations have made the cake.

“Every lunar December, we begin to dry-roast glutinous rice and clean up all rice husks. It takes long time; hence we have to start from the beginning of the month. We have to ask the help from our children and grandchildren and hire more people. Our family has made the cake since my grandfather. My grandchild continues. This is our family profession. Every Tet, we are all busy making it. We make about 500 cakes every year,” said Dung.

Truong Khac Phuc, Dung’s son, revealed: “The pounding is hard and tiring, requiring the physical strength. However, our clients didn’t accept when we intended to use the pounding machine to make them faster and save our energy. For it is traditional, they prefer it handmade.”

Making “bánh hộc” in Mai Xa village:

Huong Lai