A Javanese-Dutch student arrives in war-torn Indochina in 1951, in search of a mythical monastery. He hires 12-year old Nguyen to be his guide. The boy has a wise grandmother and a ravishing mother... Indochina, 1951. Tonkin and northern Annam have been liberated by the Vietminh. In the south, the French are fighting a vicious battle to keep the corrupt regime in Saigon in power. We meet Ruben in Nha Trang, an Annamese port town where he debarked from a French ocean liner in search of a monastery that a script said had to be somewhere in the mountains of Annam. It was not the only reason for his quest: he had inherited a chest with unusual contents: a small skeleton. Accompanying the chest was this manuscript - played into his hands by an old librarian - from a relative who had not survived the war. In it, he mentioned a monastery of the unknown order of Zong. A Chinese word, he would later find out, but the order seemed to be Japanese.... He engaged a boy in Nha Trang, who would be his guide. Not only that: the boy has a grandmother and a mother. Ruben blends into Annamese life, trekking through forests and mountains with Nguyen and later also with Yen, Nguyen’s mother. They travel by smuggling ships, old junks and rattling coasters from North to South and back again, through a war-torn country. Meaningful braids of bamboo fibers, suspended vertically in gently flowing water under carved bamboo floats, glide into a temple. An Asian temple. Monks dedicate their lives to piecing together the stream of floating symbols into meanings that might be understood. The images and meanings came to Ruben, standing at the railing, as clear as when he had dreamed them. Here, in this land he would enter in a few hours, it would have taken place. Once, or maybe still. For his dream had been confirmed – more or less – by what could be gleaned from the manuscript, which he carried in his backpack; which had been played into his hands shortly after he had the dream. And indeed, by ... no, he dared not think further about that. He tried to sniff the scent of the land, but as soon as he focused his attention on it, the experience was gone. He smelled mostly sea. The antique, despite her age comfortable ocean liner Béthune slowly sailed into Nha Trang bay. It felt like something familiar was coming to an end. It felt cheesy to have to say goodbye to the routine and comforts on board. The ship, crew and servants would sail on; he had to disembark here, it was so agreed on his ticket; it was like a birth: from the envelope of ship and servants to an uncertain future.