Buzz
After endless dates, we finally return to Phieng Lanh, the new town of Quynh Nhai nestled along the banks of the Da River after the Son La hydroelectric dam collects water.
'The sky is blue as if drawn from its very core
The river is as blue as if it's dyed itself.'
Never before have I seen Thi Hoang's 'Between the Trees and the Sky' so beautifully. Here, I took the liberty to change one word, replacing 'clouds' with 'river'.
Day of Return
The first time crossing the Pá Uôn Bridge spanning the Da River, the bridge with the tallest pylon in Southeast Asia, soaring up to a hundred meters, was at night.
Looking down from Highway 279, the fish cages lit up shimmering lights on the dark water surface, the long strip of mountains silhouetted against the silent sky, it's regretful not to be able to sit here and wait for the sunset.
Life swept me away. Places like Muong Gion, Phieng Lanh, Chieng Bang, Muong Giang hide deep in memories, sometimes returning to the city through a text message or Facebook post, someone asks, do you want to return to Quynh Nhai?
At the end of 2012, the photo exhibition 'Beauty of Endearing Scenes' by beloved photographers of Quynh Nhai captured the beauty of a land that sacrificed greatly for the Son La hydroelectric plant and the transformation of the homeland of those from the land of ban flowers, but once again I missed my appointment with Phieng Lanh.
Three years later, after scheduling and planning for a month, we finally returned to the 'place where the Da River stops' on a crisp autumn day.
If you connect the Chieng Pac intersection (Son La) on National Highway 6 with the Muong Kim intersection (Than Uyen, Lai Chau) on National Highway 32 via Provincial Road 107 and National Highway 279, then the new town of Quynh Nhai, Phieng Lanh, lies right in the middle, about 100km on each side.
That might be one of the reasons why both the former capital Muong Chien and the new capital Phieng Lanh have become secluded areas with few human footprints.
Before embarking on the largest migration in the history of Quynh Nhai to serve the Son La hydroelectric plant, people only knew what asphalt roads were with a few kilometers of district roads. But now, from National Highway 6 to National Highway 32 via the Pá Uôn - Phieng Lanh bridge, asphalt roads have been laid for hundreds of kilometers, more beautiful than sugar cane roads once compared on the red firewood stove.
Pá Uôn is the northern bridge on the Da River, with the tallest pylon in Southeast Asia, connecting the legendary banks of the Da River, a river that has become a great and gentle mother to countless people who were born, grew up, bonded, and passed away along its banks.
From the intersection of Muong Kim, we turn onto Highway 279. After driving nearly ten kilometers, we encounter the Ban Chat hydroelectric plant on the Nam Mu River, a first-level tributary of the Da River. At that time, the construction materials were still scattered, although not yet completed, but water storage was underway, creating peaceful green lake areas next to National Highway 279.
Stopping at Ta Hua, the last commune of Than Uyen bordering Quynh Nhai, a solitary house of the Thai people sits by the road, feeling somewhat desolate and restless. Inquiring, we learned that a new family had moved here to settle down, selling sundries and raising a dozen chickens, and a few pigs.
The sun rises high. Muong Gion has been left behind since when, and the Pá Uôn bridge has come into view. The road is so beautiful, just a glimpse and we're already in Chieng On's land.
The water rises very high, perhaps approaching level 218, the highest water storage level of the Son La hydroelectric plant. You're waiting at the junction of National Highway 279 and Provincial Road 107, Muong Giang, for lunch.
A meal with shrimp caught in the depths of the Da River, sautéed with sugar and ginger, sprinkled with fragrant lime leaves.
Within the 'sea' of Northwest lakes
We had arranged with the motorboat driver on the Da River for an upstream journey. We left Highway 279 near the banks of the Da River, where there's a dock named Phieng Lanh ferry terminal.
We maneuvered through temporary aquaculture cages before boarding a specialized long-distance transport vehicle and other small boats moored for rest. We boarded a motorboat that was already running, starting a leisurely journey within the 'sea' of Northwest lakes, along the Da River in Chieng Bang and Chieng On.
Just moments ago we were crossing the Pá Uôn bridge, now we're sailing beneath the bridge's graceful arc, symbolizing the affection of the Northwest people. The azure lake stretches out, with contrasting landscapes on either side; one side is the cold, rugged mountains, while the other reflects the warm, golden embrace of the sun.
We couldn't tell where the widest stretch of the 1.5km-long lake in Chieng On commune was, because amidst the flowing currents, we felt fragile and tiny amidst the vast expanse of water.
The boatman said that every day there are boats traveling up and down the Da River from Phieng Lanh to Sìn Hồ or Mường Tè, depending on the weather. I wonder if I dare to spend a whole day drifting on the majestic and defiant Da River.
The Silent Sacrifices
In the resettlement story of Quynh Nhai, a story that could be told all day long with my companion photographer Pham Hoai Thanh, one of those who has been deeply connected to Quynh Nhai throughout the years of historical relocation, I only partly understand the noble sacrifices of the people here.
The photos of people leaving their ancestral land, leaving their ancestors' graves, carrying each pillar of their house, each red tile, each old thatched roof, each buffalo, each dog, the last meal on the dismantled foundation, surrounded by withered trees and truly made me choked up.
If not for the sake of the nation's electricity, surely no one in Muong Chien or Pac Ma would want to leave their buried vegetables and roots.
We stopped at Pom Sinh 1 and Pom Sinh 2 in Chieng Bang commune, where the Thai people did not migrate to the new settlement but returned to the banks of the Da River to establish an independent resettlement village on a hill that used to be a mountain, now turned into a hill by the Son La hydroelectric dam.
They chose to relocate locally instead of going to a distant and unsuitable place for their traditional way of life. Until the day the government recognized this as a centralized resettlement area.
I stand on the hair-washing dock, not on the 30th of Lunar New Year, but with fish spread out on the cement floor. A Thai couple is holding the last handfuls of fish before some go up the mountain, others go down the river, each with their own new task.
Even if tomorrow's resettlement efforts remain challenging, I still secretly wish for a joyous New Year's Eve, with beautiful Thai girls carrying sour rice water to the banks of the Da River, performing the ritual of hair washing to bid farewell to the old year and welcome a new spring with jubilant happiness.
Source: Tuoi Tre
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Reference: Mytour Travel Guide
MytourJanuary 22, 2016
