Symbolism

Van Mieu (Part 2)
Right off the bat, I’ll make it clear that I know that the literal (heh!) translation of Van Mieu into Temple of Literature is just that: literal. The temple (that’s the part that’s not literal since there are altars to Confucius and his four best – favourite? – disciples) is probably one devoted to learning/ education in general more than to the specific subject of Literature. Still, it’s nice to think that Literature is important enough to warrant a 1000-year old temple.

Van Mieu is, however, definitely about symbolism.

From the moment the visitor steps through the Great Portico, still adorned with an inscription instructing visitors to dismount from their horses, she* finds herself in the Entrance to the Way, a garden with three paths leading deeper into the temple compounds. The middle path (always the most difficult to tread in any philosophy) leading to the Great Middle Gate is the one taken by the king, one who has attained both Thanh Duc (Accomplished Virtue) and Dat Tai (Attained Talent). Lesser beings like the administrative mandarins (I guess the Singapore equivalent would be Civil Servants) and the military mandarins (SAF Scholars) use the side gates, each representing Thanh Duc and Dat Tai – respectively? There’s something strangely comforting about the Confucian belief in the strength of the warrior-poet, one versed in both killing with sword and song.

In the Great Middle Courtyard, the visitor faces the Khue Van Cac (Constellation of Literature Pavilion); only one who has mastered literary expression will be allowed to move on into the Garden of the Stalae, where the remaining 82 plaques (30 have been destroyed over the years) of all the scholars who had received doctorates from Van Mieu between 1442 and 1778 (116 triennial exams in all) are kept in relative good condition.

It was then to the Courtyard of the Sages, where the aforementioned altars to Confucius and his pet students are located in the Dai Thanh (Great Success) Sanctuary. Brown-noses. Heh. The courtyard itself was being meticulously prepared for the annual co nguoi (human chess) tournament. There was something very zen about the way the man just drew straight lines on the ground with an oversized brush. Apparently it’s quite popular during the Tet festivities. And all the participants are from a village in the north (Ha Tay province) who must be young, attractive, single and have had nothing bad happen to them in the previous year.

Throw in ‘educated’, you have Vietnam’s version of the SDU.

It’s also here where I saw an ang-moh photographer paying someone to pose for him. Bloody hell. Spoil market for the rest of us stingy photographers who can only afford to take pictures of people on the sly and from the hip.

Yes, I was still sore about the old men.

The final courtyard, the Quoc Tu Giam (School for the Sons of the Nation – how much more NE is this?), got bombed all the way to heck and back during the Franco-Viet Minh War of 1946 to 1954, so very little of the place is original, apart from the entrance, the Dai Thanh Mon (Gate of the Great Synthesis – ah, ‘synthesis’, the word that seems to make every pencil-pusher in MOE drool and attain physical ecstasy) but there were enough nooks and crannies to be visually appealing. There were also some aspects that seemed Korean or Japanese to us. It was quite quiet too, except when a group of Korean tourists wandered out from the toilets and the silence in the courtyard was shattered for a moment. Said Korean tourists also ignored a performer who was inviting them into one of the halls for a show. We would have gone in, but unfortunately, three does not make critical mass.

Maybe a critical mess. (Ba-da-boom-ch’ng. Thank you, thank you very much. I’ll be here all weekend.)

Next post: Freeze-Dried Nuts (Halong Bay)


* I’m using ‘she’ as gender-neutral. So please, don’t get too much of whatever underwear you wear in a knot trying to establish some sort of gender conflict issue here.