The Da River is a great river of the northwest, running through Hoa Binh and then joining the Red River, and on it there is a hydropower lake so wide that people from far away mistake it for the sea. Cam grew up in that region, so mornings beside a wide sheet of water were a part of childhood rather than a journey.
A morning on the lake has a smell that is very hard to describe. The water there is still and cold, mist lies low on the surface, and when the sun comes up that mist melts away from the middle outwards. The smell then is the smell of water, of damp stone, of the grass on the bank just touched by the sun. Clear through, and a little cool at the tip of the nose.
The small stream and the afternoons hunting crabs
Near the house there was a small stream, and that was where the children truly belonged. The stream ran over round pebbles, the deepest part only came up to the knee, and under every large stone there might be a crab sheltering. Turning stones to look for crabs teaches a kind of patience that you only recognise as your own once you start working.
As the afternoon fell, hands and feet went numb with cold, but the children stayed there until someone called them home. The way back went through a stretch of tall grass, and the grass touched by your legs gave off another smell, green and a little sharp. Then reaching the yard there was the smell of kitchen smoke, and inside the house a basin of warm water.
Those things sounded very ordinary to a child in that region. Only after leaving do you know how precious they were, and only after living in the city for a while do you understand why there are evenings when you feel something missing and cannot name it.
Where our directions of scent begin
When we make a new direction of scent, the first task is not choosing materials. The first task is choosing a scene, and almost every time that scene is in that region. A misty morning on the water. A streambed after rain. A stretch of grass at noon. An evening beside a wood fire.
Once the scene is chosen comes the work of finding how to tell it, and each of our pieces keeps at most three main directions of scent so the story can still be heard clearly. Soy wax blended by ZUNGZA and essential oils composed by ZUNGZA are the work inside the workshop; what you receive should be that scene, not yet a list of ingredients.
We tell you where we began because that is fair to you. A candle jar is made in Van Phuc craft village, but the way of seeing behind it comes from a small stream in Hoa Binh, and we want it to travel far while still holding the damp air of that place.
A few questions you often send us
Where is the Da River
The Da River is a great river of the northwest, running through Hoa Binh and then joining the Red River, and on it there is a very wide hydropower lake.
Where do ZUNGZA's directions of scent come from
From particular scenes in the northwest, such as mist on a lake, a streambed after rain, a stretch of grass at noon and an evening beside a wood fire.
Why does ZUNGZA tell a story instead of listing ingredients
Because a scent is remembered by its scene and rarely by a list. We keep at most three main directions of scent for each piece so that scene can be heard clearly.
Read more Hoa Binh, the small stream and the way to ZUNGZA, the greater the hardship, the simpler the happiness, and why we call ourselves Rung Gia.