Gazing Toward Hon Kem Da Dung

A Journey That Didn’t Quite Go as Planned

The Call of an Old Folk Song

“Gazing up at Hon Kem Da Dung,

Missing my father, longing for my mother, dear darling.

If you miss your parents, go home,

But if it’s just longing for trees and the old hometown, best stay away.”

The old folk song echoed in my mind yesterday as I pedaled my way toward Nong Son, planning a little adventure: a stop by Dai Binh, famously dubbed the “Southern Fruit Village” of Quang Nam, and then a boat ride up the Thu Bon River to explore Hon Kem Da Dung — a place so deeply woven into the soul of Quang Nam that it lives forever in poetry and song.

On the way, I was already smiling, imagining the title for the story I would write: “Hon Kem Da Dung — In Search of the Meaning Behind an Old Folk Song.”

But, as life often reminds us, not every journey goes as planned.

No Fruits, No Boats — Just Blazing Heat

Arriving in Dai Binh, I quickly realized the fruit season hadn’t arrived yet.

The rows of stalls that should have been bursting with vibrant colors were empty, the market still in slumber. A kind sugarcane vendor told me that the real harvest wouldn’t come until the seventh or eighth lunar month.

No problem, I thought — the real goal was Hon Kem Da Dung.

But fate wasn’t quite done with me.

At the riverbank, not a single boat was to be found.

So, my two travel companions and I gave up and rolled into the nearby Trung Phuoc Market, collapsing into the shade of a coffee shop. There we stayed, hiding from the fierce heat — more than 40 degrees Celsius — for over two hours, nursing cold drinks and conversations.

A Few Photos, a Fried iPhone, and 150 Kilometers Later

On the long ride home, just before tackling the Phuong Ranh Pass, I managed to snap a few photos of the Thu Bon River — shimmering under the brutal afternoon sun.

The heat was so intense that my iPhone gave up, flashing a warning:

“iPhone needs to cool down before you can use it.”

I couldn’t blame it — I was about ready to collapse myself.

At the end of the day, the only real “souvenir” from the trip was adding 150 more kilometers to my May cycling total — finally crossing the 1,000-kilometer milestone.

Not bad for a failed trip, I mused, wiping the sweat from my brow.

Still Gazing Toward Hon Kem Da Dung

Sometimes, journeys don’t give you the stories you planned to tell.

Instead, they leave you with unfinished dreams, waiting for a better day.

For now, I can only “gaze up at Hon Kem Da Dung” from afar, holding onto the promise that one day, under kinder skies, I’ll return — and write the story this beautiful place truly deserves.

—-

Mr. Old Man, 2021