Walking Through the Faded Heart of Hue

Vietnam Diaries -2

Hue: Empire, Ruins, and Riverlight

Truong Tien Bridge on perfume River

Our introduction to Hue began with a walk along the Perfume River.Like much in this old imperial city, even the river comes wrapped in its own story.

Legend says it earned its name because flowers drifting downstream — lotus blossoms and yellow apricot petals from orchards upriver, once perfumed the water.

Standing beside it in the humid late evening, however, we could detect no delicate floral fragrance. To us, it smelled unmistakably like river water: damp weeds, mud, and that faint stagnant scent that makes you instinctively wrinkle your nose.

And yet, somehow, the darkness softened everything. Reflections of the lights from the Truong Tien Bridge trembled in water, while couples, families, and solitary walkers moved along the riverside promenade. Hue did not feel dramatic or immediately dazzling. It felt slow and slightly faded.

Top:The Noon Gate Bottom Left: Ceremonial Drum in the right wing of Five Phoenixes Pavilion Middle: Royal Corridor Right: The Mythical Guard-Vietnamese version of Unicorn

The next morning, we dutifully turned into tourists and headed for the Imperial City, the former seat of the Nguyen emperors.

The Imperial City of Huế, also known as the Imperial Palace, was the political and cultural heart of Vietnam’s Nguyễn Dynasty. 

Behind 3.7 meters-high thick brick ramparts, and a broad moat lies the complex, once the political and ceremonial heart of Vietnam. It was built in the early nineteenth century for the exclusive use of the emperor, his family, mandarins, court ladies, and eunuchs. The vast complex included palaces, temples, gardens, offices, and residences.

Started in 1805 under Emperor Gia Long, it is one of the largest construction projects in Vietnamese history, where tens of thousands of workers toiled for over nearly 30 years.

The city was designed on a strict symmetrical axis. Ornate gates, grand courtyards, vermilion-painted buildings, curved rooflines and elaborate ceramic decorations reflected the architectural style of the Nguyễn Dynasty.

At its center was the Purple Forbidden City, a sanctuary for the emperor and his household, like Forbidden City in Beijing.

Yet the ‘Purple Forbidden City’ was not purple at all. Yellow, the imperial colour symbolising the emperor and the earth, dominated the complex.

One of the most notable structures is grand Noon Gate, the southern entrance to the citadel. Beyond it stands the Palace of Supreme Harmony, once the ceremonial center of the empire. Other important features include Phu Van Lau Pavilion, built in 1819 to display imperial edicts and examination results; Royal Theatre; the restored Long Corridors stretching nearly a kilometre; and seven ancient bronze urns, now recognized as Vietnam’s national treasures, symbolizing royal authority and national strength.

Vietnamese art of making miniature landscapes, called Hon non bo, is truly amazing. 

The site suffered immense destruction during the French colonial period and the wars of the twentieth century. In 1947, fierce fighting between the Viet Minh and French forces destroyed much of the citadel, and many key structures were burned. Later, during the 1968 Battle of Hue, when communist forces seized the city, American and South Vietnamese troops initially avoided bombing the area because of its cultural importance, but as fighting intensified, heavy shelling and air strikes caused catastrophic damage. Of the original 160 buildings, only about ten major structures survived.

In 1993, UNESCO declared the Complex of Hue Monuments a World Heritage Site. Since then, extensive restoration projects have attempted to preserve and rebuild sections of the Imperial City. Although many original structures remain lost, the site still offers visitors a powerful glimpse into Vietnam’s imperial past.

Walking through the citadel requires focus and imagination. You must mentally reconstruct the vanished empire: silk-robed officials crossing courtyards, imperial processions passing beneath ornate gates, ceremonies unfolding in the Palace of Supreme Harmony, and yes, help from a guide who first explains everything in the wooden model before mouthing all the unfamiliar names.

By afternoon, however, history had lost its romance under the full force of central Vietnam’s heat and humidity. Sweaty, drained, and unable to process so much information, we abandoned all further cultural ambitions for the day and retreated to the hotel for what we optimistically called ‘a short rest’ although it became several lazy naps.

Do you also experience that particular guilt while travelling —of having journeyed far, only to spend precious hours unconscious in an air-conditioned room while UNESCO heritage sites wait outside. Most monuments in Hue close by 5:30 p.m., which only intensified the feeling that we were somehow failing at tourism.

Seven-storeyed pink Phuoc Duyen Tower of pagoda.

Eventually, we nudged one another into action and ventured out into the cooler evening air to visit Thien Mụ Pagoda, Hue’s most recognisable landmark.

Set on a hill overlooking the Perfume River, the pagoda is dominated by the seven-storey Phuoc Duyen Tower, each dedicated to a different Buddha. It was closed to visitors when we went, but it sure is not the kind of building I would ever subject my knees to climb up.

Dim lights, just a couple of visitors besides us moving about in silence on the pathways among the bonsai trees, everyone talking in hushed tones, incense drifting through the air, a couple of monks with their rosaries, all made us aware it was not merely a tourist site.

Left: Dai Hong Chung Bell Right: Turtle carrying the stele

To the left of the tower ahead, is a pavilion with the 2.5 metres high Dai Hong Chung bronze bell, cast in 1710 and weighing more than 3,285 kilograms. According to legend, its sound once travelled across villages nearly ten kilometres away. The bell has inspired poems and songs, including verses written by Emperor Thieu Trị in the nineteenth century.

Nearby stands a stone stele balanced upon a marble turtle, a traditional symbol of longevity and wisdom.

The complex suffered severe damage during a cyclone in 1904 but was later restored. During the Buddhist crisis of 1963, it became one of the centres of protest against the South Vietnamese government of Ngo Dình Diem, whose administration was accused of discriminating against the Buddhist majority while favouring Catholics.

Inside the grounds sits an old Austin car, surprisingly ordinary-looking at first glance. It was the vehicle used to transport monk Thich Quang Duc to Saigon, where he carried out self-immolation in protest. The image travelled around the world and became one of the defining photographs of the twentieth century.

Standing beside the car was unsettling.

But the serene atmosphere in the shrine at the far end, behind which lay pine forests, brought peace. I was told it is the statue of Maitreya Bodhisattva (future Buddha) flanked by Manjushri Bodhisattva (transcendent wisdom) and Samantabhadra Bodhisattva (meditation and practice) on either side.

The shrine with the Bodhisattva idols

As we were coming out from the other side, we noticed statues of Dharmapalas, the fierce defenders of the dharma. Lizards flitted across the walls behind them, making me take an involuntary step back.

Yet what stayed with me was not only the history, but the taste of the cuisine of Hue as well. 

I tried my first bowl of Pho, the most famous Vietnamese dish. Broth so flavourful, I would fail to replicate in my kitchen, with flat rice noodles, herbs and meat of choice. 

I enjoyed Bun bo Hue, spicy beef noodle soup flavored with lemongrass and a variety of spices, including some I did not recognise. Ga Kho or braised chicken- caramalised in sugar and fish sauce, came with crunchy veggies and sticky rice, while Nem lụi-grilled sweet, spicy, pork wrapped around lemongrass skewers and grilled over charcoal, came wrapped in rice paper with fresh vegetables. It is eaten with a peanut-based sauce.

I was unsure about Bahn bot loc- translucent, sticky tapioca dumpling with a piece of pork and shrimp inside, and steamed in banana leaf.   

The best was when I asked for ‘coconut juice’ and a whole shaved coconut with the top carefully carved for a small opening, came. The water was refreshingly sweet, but the frugal Indian in me did not feel satisfied until I had scrapped and relished almost all of the fresh soft meat inside.

Next: Theatrical Tombs, Coastal Roads

                                                                                                     - Anupama S Mani