In the afternoon, when the car went along Vi O Lac pass, I saw herds of buffaloes diligently grazing along the hillsides; in the distance, terraced rice fields were in harvest season.
The golden picture of rice fields mixed with the dark green of tea hills, acacia and eucalyptus forests and the sparkling white hats of the farmers.
On the small and curved pass, I occasionally met H'Re old women herding their buffaloes home, women carrying baskets full of bamboo shoots and wild vegetables on their backs...
At night, a sudden drizzle sprinkled tiny dust particles on our heads, sparkling like beads.
Sitting on the second floor of the Trinh and Em cafe attic, watching the cars slowly crawling up the winding slope and looking up at the deep mountains and forests, I seemed to smell the pungent scent of the pine trees dropping bunches of dry seeds, the scent of the pristine original things that I know will return one day, that pure scent will gradually fade away and then the "scent of the fields and grass will more or less disappear".
That's it! It's natural, life continues and develops, the new encroaches on the old, but traditional values will survive despite the harsh laws of time.
The small town impresses visitors with its green pine hills, with pine trees larger than two hugs. I love to see the young pine shoots waving in the wind, and to hear the pine trees singing the endless song of the great forest.
The outdoor stage is located in the center of the market where the Square is bustling with gongs and dances of Jrai, Xo Dang, and Bahnar boys and girls. In the deep darkness of the mountains and forests, the night market is sparkling with lights and bustling with songs, an unforgettable highlight for visitors when stopping in this peaceful town.
Mang Den is not noisy but quiet and profound like the village elder Mo Nam with his honey-colored skin and quivering silver beard telling his children and grandchildren about the legend of "seven lakes, three waterfalls".
Waking up early in the morning, I could see all the unique beauty of the quiet highland. The sparkling dew hung on the pine tops, the dew glistened on the rose bushes climbing around the house nestled in the trees. I could smell the cool, transparent breeze in those illusory mists.
On the way to visit Pa Sy waterfall, we stopped by Khanh Lam pagoda, a quiet pagoda hidden deep in the trees. We had to go through many stone steps covered with fallen leaves and curved tiled roofs like a crescent moon to see it.
The majestic Pa Sy waterfall splashes white foam, bustling with tourists from all over. The iron bridge across the stream seems to be even more strained by the eager footsteps to explore the rustic, genuine features of this red plateau.
Mang Den with its winding red dirt roads attracts visitors with its wildness, the drizzle, the rows of pine trees rustling in the wind and the deep black eyes of the Xo Dang women.
In my ears, the song echoed: "High mountain town, foggy mountain town/ Mountain town with green trees and low sky, so sad" (song "Con chut gi de nho", Vu Khanh).
That land forever anchors passionate emotions in me; entices my feet to return one day not far away…
Source: https://baodanang.vn/thi-tran-voi-nhung-hang-thong-xanh-3300169.html
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