INDO CHINA

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 62, Issue 4403, 17 March 1941, Page 7

INDO CHINA

MODERN CITIES. ANCIENT CUSTOMS. (By W.G.8.) Saigon, the capital of Cochin China, and the main port of French IndoChina, is known throughout the Far East as the “ Paris of the Orient ” and worthily it deserves the title. The wide boulevards, lined and shaded by avenues of lofty tamarinds and giant teak trees; the handsome, wellplanned squares; the airy, graceful buildings; the ornate Theatre Municipale above all, the boulevard cafes with their red and whitestriped canvas awnings and lacquered fronts—are authentic Paris creations.

There is something in the sprightly walk of the people, a smartness in the dress, an air as of expectancy before a festival, that all recalls the atmosphere of pre-war France. Even the diversity of population that formerly streamed along the Parisian boulevards has its counterpart in Saigon. There is every type and melange of types of Orientals and Eurasians ranging from wispy-bearded Malayan rickshaw pullers to fullbearded Parsee money-changers to be seen in the Saigon streets.

Indo-China, like China proper, is a country of waterways. Saigon is bounded on three sides by rivers, and the whole city particularly the native quarter—is criss-crossed by creeks and canals. These are always crowded 'with a miscellaneous collection of barges laden with rice, tin, rubber, and earthenware jars of ginger—and house-boats, fishing craft, and gondola-shaped canoes jostle each other in odorous procession. A less savoury aspect is seen when the shallower canals are transformed by the receding tide Into ditches of foul, bubbling mud. HUMAN ANT-HEAP. Four miles to the west of Saigon is the largest city in Indo-China —the seventeenth century Chinese city of Cholon. With a population of 250,000 —twice that of Saigon—Cholon is a teeming ant-heap of industry. In poky, filthy side-streets one sees Chinese families crowded into ill-lighted, tumble-down shops, toiling at the looms. No member of the family is apparently too small or too ill to do his or her share of the spinning. Indo-China, as the name implies, is the meeting ground for Chinese and Indian cultures. It is not surprising, therefore, that while Cholon is a purely Chinese city, the village of Thu-Duc, only 12 miles from, Saigon, shows definite Indian influence, with the “elephant motif” replacing the “ dragon motif.” Together with some American tourists I travelled on the one-class,— fourth class,—train on the Saigon-Thu-Duc threepence return journey. Our fellow passengers on the outward journey were mainly peasant women in black, shiny jackets, silk trousers, and wide, mushroom-shaped hats. With their baskets and crates of unsold fruit and poultry they were returning from market, and by their chatter and giggles we gathered that the sight of Europeans travelling fourth class was rather unusual —it was “ not done.” The railway line led through paddy fields, coconut groves, plantations of coffee and manioc—from which tapioca is made—and patches of lush jungle. We discovered that by waving our cameras the engine-driver would obligingly stop the train and wait till Iwe had taken our pictures. TEMPLE TREASURES.’ Thu-Duc is a village with growing pains. Palm-thatched shacks exist in the main street side by side with trim cafes and pompous homes of the wealthy. Following a narrow path deep into the thick vegetation, we were attracted by the sonorous dingdong of a bell to a huge barn-like building made of logs and clay, set amid the ruins of stone tombs and shattered monuments. As we tried to peer in through the shuttered windows priests appeared and made signs to us to enter.

A long, dark passage with dirt floor led into a hall where the light Was dim: and the air thick with the smoke of burning incense. As our eyes grew accustomed to. the darkness the treasures of a Buddhist temple were revealed. Two life-sized golden Buddhas stood back to back on a platform in the centre of the hall, surrounded by other smaller images, apparently representing various races and ranks. Hundreds more Buddhas wrought in gold, silver, and bronze were arrayed on shelves and benches round the four sides of the temple. Illuminated

■in gold, crimson, and black .script Were suspended from the walls. The donging sound filled the temple with mellow' music, and in a corner even darker than the rest We saw an ancient parchment-skinned monk, with wispy beard and sightless eyes, striking a great bronze gong at regular intervals. From Thu-Duc back to Saigon was like travelling to another world through centuries of time. The wide boulevards, the neon signs, and automobiles no longer seemed so natural and permanent. One began to wonder whether the 20,000,000 Indo-Chinese look forward and westward to an era of neon signs and automobiles, or