Ninh Binh was once the capital of Vietnam, where the royals lived, and thus many of destinations so popular today were once restricted for Royal family use only.
If you believe legends, which I tend to because they are much more interesting than history, during the first Vietnam – Mongolia war the king moved the capital from Thang Long to Ninh Binh, and he chose Mua Cave as an entertaining place.
In this case, entertaining means beautiful dancers who came to the cave to dance for him. I have no idea if they danced or a historical ‘wink, wink’ is implied, but that is the legend that gave the caves their name. Mua Cave means Dancing cave.
Mua Cave is under the Mua Mountain, which is entirely more accessible than if they were on top. I can speak from experience on that.
I did not make it to the cave itself, but the locals describe it as a big upside down bell about 800 meters square. From what I could tell from others, it is a cave with carvings inside, and was the last thing we were to see at the very end of the day.
But I had a mission. I pulled out my walking sticks, bid Teresa ado, and started for the path to the stairs to the top of the mountain. The point was to be there by sunset. I’m not sure a day was specified, and I might need a few, but sunset was the goal and I needed to get moving.
The guide wanted to take a group picture on some kids playground toys shaped like elephants or something. I walked on. The others agreed.
The guide wanted to take a group picture by a tree or something. I ignored him. The others agreed and followed their Pogo bike matriarch.
After a few more attempted roadblocks, I stood before a very tall flight of stairs.
Make it or break it baby. Let the shenanigans commence.
Not going to sugar coat it. I believe I died at least twice. I was apparently resurrected because God did not want to carry me up the rest of the stairs to heaven.
Or kick me down the stairs to hell. At this point in my life either would be a likely outcome depending on my mood.
I hesitate to call them stairs, but I will admit they were not a sheer rock face. They were uneven, worn into the stone after being carved out what I feel was centuries ago. Some were ‘normal’ height. Maybe 7-10 inches high. Others I had to climb to kneel on.
People around me were patient at my slow climb. They ran around me, or stopped to give me the wider part of the stair, which was considerate. I just kept my head down and tried not to trip.
That was kind of the theme of the day. Keep my head down and go. First the gravel, now the stairs.
Honestly, it was spiritual. Not the dripping sweat or aching joints, but the fact I decided to face it at all. I know I am not in shape for a climb like this. I’m not really in shape to walk around at all right now, but that pesky first step keeps kicking me in the ass.
So, no. I did not make it by sunset. I don’t think. It was cloudy anyway and I might have been blind by that point, but if the sun set, which I am sure it did at some point, I was oblivious.
I did not make it all the way to the dragon, but I did make it to right below the dragon and deemed the last flight was too much. I had to make it back down after all. Unless God is going to suck me up to heaven, there are only 2 ways off this mountain. Stairs or unintentional gravity.
But it was enough. 5 hundred and some steps from top to bottom and I did the 500 part and took a picture. Look like I just got out of the shower, but I was there, or almost there, and I have proof.
Took me longer to get down than get up. I think. I had no idea about the passage of time or if I was dead, or if I was flying.
But I did get down and the tour guide…
Yes, he wanted a picture. I almost decked him.
I was thinking about Leo a lot today. I climbed a mountain and stood at the top…ish, and would have posed with him and probably dropped him off the edge given how shaky I was from the climb. Or I would have tried to pose with him on the boat and dropped him in the water. Or he would have bounced out of the basket of that pogo stick they called a bicycle and I wouldn’t have noticed because I was struggling to maintain my life.
I guess the point is, it would have been a miracle if he made it out of this trip alive. My attention is not always where it should be, and even when it is, it should also be somewhere else.
But today I climbed a mountain, with a stuffed bag of beans or otherwise. The spirit is inside. The passion is inside. The whole idea of carrying something externally to represent an inside emotion does not remove the purpose from the inside.
Still sucks Leo was lost before we ever hit the ground together, but he transferred his external sack of beans to the inside. Likely on my hips. Little bastard.
