The Lady Buddha is known to Vietnamese believers as Quan Thế Âm, “Observing the Sounds of the World.” According to Buddhist beliefs, she achieved enlightenment, thereby ending her cycle of death and rebirth. However, selflessly, she remains in this mortal realm, vowing to stay until every living creature can join her in Nirvana. Her constant, otherworldly observance is a blessing to the people of Da Nang, who believe her stone visage repels the most tumultuous storms.

Glen MacDonald is currently living and working in Da Nang City. (Photo: Glen MacDonald)

While living in Da Nang, I encountered the Lady Buddha on three separate occasions: once on foot, once by boat, and once by accident.

On Foot

The first time was a hike from the bustling streets of An Hai ward, following the curve of Man Thai beach. I left at dawn, greeting the sun and scores of elderly Vietnamese exercising on the sandy shores. In the early hours, the sun appeared before Da Nang as a cheery, crimson peach. The sand was still cool from the previous night, and the scorching heat wouldn't appear for another few hours—a time when the beach traded the sun-fearing Vietnamese for sunbathing tourists.

As the road bent toward Son Tra Mountain, Buu Dai Son Pagoda appeared on my left. It was a sprawling mass of temples, statues, and immaculate tilework depicting the Buddhist pantheon. Lotus flowers grew at ease next to antique columns wrapped in the stony scales of petrified dragons.

A view from the Lady Buddha’s gardens.

After a quick cup of iced salt coffee, I began my ascent toward the Lady Buddha. I walked on the side of the road, past dozens of vehicles speeding toward the alabaster goddess. The growl of the engines competed with the cries of Indochinese rhesus monkeys and long-tailed macaques. A shy troop of endangered red-shanked douc langurs also lived within the deep jungles of Son Tra, another creature under the divine protection of the Lady Buddha.

Arriving at the shaded gardens of the Lady Buddha after walking in the tropical heat felt like arriving at Nirvana itself. Marble statues of laughing Buddhas and reclining dragons rested in her manicured gardens. I sipped cool water in the shadow of the Lady Buddha and stared at her striking white frame, further embellished by the clear, blue sky. She stared back at me with a small Mona Lisa smile, as if she were giving me a silent welcome to her home.

By Boat

The next time I encountered the Lady Buddha, I was miles away from her, floating in Da Nang Bay, but her immensity reminded me that I was still in her domain. My friends and I traversed over sharp, seaside rocks, boarded a bobbing coconut boat, and finally cast off into deeper waters in an old fishing vessel, determined to return to score with a seafood feast. We brought plenty of soju, beers, and rice wine, but not much drinking water or sunscreen. While we were ill-equipped, I knew our hired captain would get us out of any scrape as the Lady Buddha continued her watch.

The Lady Buddha over Son Tra beach.

As the hours passed, it became apparent that none of us were expert fishermen. We routinely reeled in our hooks to find the bait devoured by a lucky school of fish. Eventually, we gave up on our dreams of catching fish and sprawled out on the decks, enjoying the captain’s spicy fish noodles and several shots of rice wine. Afterward, my friends napped in the cramped captain’s quarters as our captain dutifully piloted us back to shore.

On the voyage home, I once again found myself in the presence of the Lady Buddha. Even from far away, her eyesight was pristine, for she noticed my sweaty brow and sent a mountain breeze to cool me down. She certainly had her work cut out for her, I thought, as we sailed past a fleet of fishing boats.

As I waved to the sun-baked fishermen on the other boats, I remembered my Vietnamese friend telling me how local fishermen continued to pray to the Lady Buddha, asking for calm seas and a safe return home. Locals believed the severity of storms had subsided since her completion in 2010, and her skilled builders claimed to have witnessed a halo appear around her head on 13 separate occasions during her six-year construction. Whether these tales were true or not, I could not be certain. However, as our captain deftly spun the helm while navigating the reefs, I was grateful to have some holy force ensuring us safe passage through those waters.

By Accident

Despite her holy presence, a few rainstorms got past the Lady Buddha, though she continued to shield the city from the worst lashings of heavy, sudden rain. On one such day, I found myself on the peaceful shores of Tien Sa beach, located on the northern side of the Son Tra peninsula.

Giant, slow-moving clouds floated through the gentle, blue twilight sky, looking like flying whales. A group of young men swam out to a sea-drenched boulder, their laughter echoing across the gathering tempest. I turned my back on the ocean, and when I reached my motorbike, several fat raindrops plummeted onto my helmet. By the time I pulled out onto the main road back to the city, the storm was in full force.

I drove slowly, headlights on, hydroplaning through deepening puddles. My phone was useless in the heavy rain, leaving me with only my sense of (very poor) direction. I remembered thinking that if I kept going left, I would eventually see a sign to turn right onto the well-lit coastal strip of Vo Nguyen Giap Street and find my way home. However, the road kept getting darker, and the surrounding forests became wild, noisy with the chatter of soaking monkeys.

The Lady Buddha at night in a storm.

Finally, I saw her. The Lady Buddha appeared before me, signaling that I was going the wrong way, deep into Son Tra and toward the Hai Van Pass. Her holy presence made me stop and reassess. Just as I did, the rain ceased as well. For a minute, it was just the Lady Buddha and me on this dark road. Cynics might have written her off as a landmark, but to me, she was my savior. I bowed my head in thanks, took a quick photo of her nighttime radiance, and turned around, heading back to the city in search of a bowl of pho to warm me up.

As an American Catholic, I have very little understanding of Vietnamese Buddhism. Yet, in the chaos of this dark and stormy world, I am grateful for protectors like her, watching over us all. I look forward to one day seeing her, and you, and everyone in Nirvana, where we will remove our rain-soaked ponchos, greet our enemies as brothers, and share our tragedies and adventures in her heavenly gardens, as she stares on forevermore.

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