Ben Nom – two seasons of rain and sunshine

I have visited Ben Nom in Thong Nhat Commune twice, each at an opposite time of the year: once on a sunny afternoon during the low-water season, and the other on a rainy morning when the water had risen high. I found myself exclaiming in delight and wonder, as if meeting an old acquaintance in two different guises — one vibrant, the other contemplative.

Ben Nom during the dry season. Photo: Courtesy of a contributor

My first visit took place in May when I found myself an impromptu tour guide for a photographer friend from Vung Tau, who insisted on going to Ben Nom to fulfill his long-held wish of capturing it through his lens. From Dau Giay, we drove about 18 kilometres along National Highway 20 towards Da Lat, following the road until we reached Ben Nom as the afternoon sunlight began to fade.

I stood still for a few seconds, yet it felt as though time itself had paused mid-breath. Before me unfolded a scene of nature so breathtaking it seemed unreal. Dusk descended gently, as if time were softly touching the earth, casting a dreamy golden glow across the landscape. A vast green meadow stretched out at the foot of Cui Mountain, where herds of buffalo and cows wandered lazily, grazing with quiet ease. Above, colourful kites soared freely in the clear sky; their bamboo flutes humming like whispers of the wind, turning the clouds into poetry. The carefree herder children, with their sunburnt feet pressing against the grass, their heads exposed to the sun, chased each other around and laughed heartily. In the distance, fishing boats rested quietly after a long day on the water, their nets spread out and glistening under the crimson glow of the sunset.

What set Ben Nom apart at that time was the layer of green algae thriving silently beneath the surface. The lake appeared to be draped in a smooth, emerald cloak, a gift of nature. From above, the aerial photographs taken by my friend made me feel as though I were in a dreamland. I was left speechless before a paradoxical beauty: land and water, quietness and vastness, and immense, yet blended together as if destined by heaven.

In the faint light of dusk, the earthy brown tones of the curving sandbanks embraced the green lake. Water seeped into the fertile alluvial soil like veins nourishing the land. The small submerged islets, usually hidden beneath the expansive lake, now emerged like delicate brushstrokes to decorate the quiet and enchanting ink painting.

My second visit to Ben Nom was in stark contrast. It was not a tranquil May afternoon, but an early morning shrouded in mist. A thin fog covered the lake, blurring the line between water and sky. People could barely recognise one another through the haze; only the soft chatter and laughter of fishermen echoed across the still air. Their lives are bound to the drifting waves, spent on small, wavering boats through countless seasons of rain and sunshine. Their existence is simple yet resilient, encapsulated in just two words — “the life of fish.”

Before sunrise, dew still clung to the blades of grass, yet the lakeside was already bustling. Voices called out cheerfully; the sound of paddles splashing and fish flapping in baskets filled the air. We strolled through the market. Before my eyes were very large catfish struggling in the hands of fishermen. It was clearly a bountiful day. We eagerly joined in, choosing a fish to buy. The locals were warm and welcoming; they smiled as the sunrise, allowing me to pick the fish myself before weighing it, and even added a handful of small shrimp as a friendly gift, perfect for frying and serving with rice paper. It turned out that people did not lose their generosity by living in poverty. On the contrary, generosity was always present in people who lived in harmony with nature.

We left the fish market as the sun was already high in the sky. Sitting in the car, my mind was still filled with unspoken thoughts. It was strange, the people live their entire lives on the water, labouring yet never losing their gentle smiles. Sometimes, one visit is enough to make you fall in love. I realised then that Ben Nom had quietly captured my heart.

By Nguyen Tham – Translated by Quynh Nhu, Thu Ha