My last day in the Mekong Delta brings me to the foot of Sam Mountain. Having filled my plate with magical visits to My Tho, Can Tho, floating markets, rural schools and mud-floored huts, I look forward to a peaceful, uneventful hike up this hill of a mountain near Chau Doc and the Cambodian border.

My driver and guide, Bay, strolls with me through the tombs of Thoai Ngoc Hau, where colorful flowers grow wild between ancient stones. We climb higher where countless temples and pagodas pepper the trailside; small and seemingly make-shift buildings with corrugated tin roofs, these tiny, modest structures reveal their Chinese influence in the characters framing the darkened doorways. Weary from hundreds of miles of driving, Bay returns to our hotel for a well-earned nap, giving me the freedom to climb this enchanting mountain on my own. Enjoying my solitude, I creep through an inviting yellow temple and poke my head into an incense-filled shrineroom. Turning around, I am startled by a wrinkled and storied face looking at me calmly. Motioning with his hands and speaking his best broken English, a brown-robed monk tells me of his difficult path to monastic life, having spent three years in prison while serving during the war. Although past hardship is revealed in his aged face, there is an unmistakable gleam of peace in his eyes. We bow before I continue up the mountain where dogs and chickens communally dart across the trail looking for morsels dropped by tourists but I am the only visitor.

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