Facing the Dragon - Chapter 11

I had a deep and much needed sleep last evening. I feel like a new man and owe many thanks to my friend Cary who offered me the sleeping pill. After a quick shower, I gobble down a banana and some tea before making my way to the My My Tailor shop to pick up the clothes I was fit for yesterday. I am giddy with excitement as I have never had any article of clothing specifically tailored for me. Extravagances like these are typically reserved for those much wealthier than I.

The whole situation in the tailor shop is entertaining to say the least. I am in the back room of the shop changing from the clothes I have on into the clothes I am purchasing to make sure they fit. While I am changing, the employees of the shop and the other customers are parading in and out of the room I am in. One person walks in and my pants are off. Another and my pants are on. I have no control over the situation and it appears that I am the only person that seems to be even slightly bothered by the situation. My clothes fit perfectly. I am particularly happy about how the shirt made from the black and white material highlighted with crimson flowers turned out. It is fantastic and I can’t wait to put it on.

I walk to the counter to pay for my two pairs of wool pants and two silk shirts. After exchanging smiles with a woman who takes my $30, I pick up my bags and walk towards the door. Apparently, I act too quickly as I am approached by two women who remind me that I agreed to have lunch with them. I did remember their invitation but didn’t want to bring up the subject because I wanted to make sure their invitation was sincere. It is only 10:30 AM but I am not about to decline their offer as opportunities to eat home cooked food with locals in a foreign country are few and far in between. One of the women I have worked with and who has invited me to have lunch is quite attractive. Her name is Twuy and she leads me back to the fitting room and points to a couch for me to sit on.

First, Twuy serves me a bowl of a popular local dish called Cao Lau. Cao Lau consists of bean sprouts, noodles, chicken, pork rind and broth. It is very tasty. I also have some steamed dumplings and a piece of fruit that looks and tastes a bit like an orange and a bit like a lime. It has a green exterior, orange interior and a slightly tart, slightly sweet flavor. Eating food that comes out of a local kitchen on a couch in the back of a tailor shop undoubtedly violates most precautionary measures that are suggested to those hoping to avoid becoming ill. However, when asked by these gracious and sweet women whether I would have lunch with them, it didn’t even enter into my mind that I was just now feeling better after the stomach issues I have had the last few days. The only thing I wanted to know is where they wanted me to sit and what we were having for lunch. Experiences like these are exactly why I travel in the first place. This is probably my best dining experience in Vietnam to date. Not only have I been able to eat the same dishes that these women eat in their own homes, I have also been able to interact with local people from Hoi An. Sitting down and getting to know a local resident over a meal is a much higher level of cultural immersion than most tourists are fortunate enough to have. It has allowed me to remove my tourist mask and they, their local one. The conversations are no longer about buying clothes or seeing sites, they are about what each of us hold close and dear to our hearts.

After this splendid lunch, I walk back towards the town center and wander around aimlessly in the blistering, hot sun. Along the way, I walk in and out of many art stores and ponder over many different pieces of regional art. I am looking for a piece that, for me, captures the essence of Hoi An. After about ninety minutes of browsing, I think I am ready to make a decision. Now it is time to figure out how to negotiate a price for the piece I have selected. The small gallery I am in is a simple 14 X 18 room with paintings hanging on every wall. There is a woman working and the ladder that connects the main floor to the opening above tells me that there is an attic upstairs. I speak to the woman working and ask her if she is the artist. She tells me that her brother is the artist but he is unavailable because he is napping in his quarters up above. I would like to talk to the artist to find out more about the painting but it does not appear that this is an option. Instead, I negotiate with his sister in broken English while he naps above. She quotes me a fair price and explains that the painting represents different aspects of Vietnamese culture including conical hats, baskets, people and fish. The conical hats, people and baskets represent the hard working Vietnamese people who farm the land, fish and sell goods in baskets in the market under their protective conical hats. The blue fish represent the main form of sustenance for many Vietnamese people. The yellow skinned people in orange hats, green fish on a blue background and variations of different colored hanging baskets make for a complex and beautiful painting.

Walking the old streets of Hoi An with my newly purchased piece of art, I see 2 of my travel companions, Sebastian and Claire. Sebastian waves at me as he boards a small boat, leaving Claire behind. These guys make me laugh every time I see them. Claire walks towards me and tells me that Sebastian is taking a boat ride with a woman he met. He makes sure to let me know that Sebastian needed to exchange some money prior to embarking on this trip. This is his subtle way of letting me know that there could be some kind of sexual nuance to Sebastian’s boat ride. In another not so subtle message from Claire regarding Sebastian’s adventures, he tells me that Seby went to get a massage last evening but later came back to the room to get more money for what Sebastian called “some extras”. Apparently, Sebastian was frustrated that he did not bring more money with him and that he had to return to the room.

Over the time I have spent with Sebastian and Claire, they have shared one entertaining story after another with me. At 75 and 80, they have years of experience and many stories to share. They have recounted stories of them drinking whiskey from Mylanta bottles -- since alcohol was not allowed on the bus -- during a 7 week trip through Central America. Sebastian also has more massage stories from Guatemala and Honduras. He probably has them from many other places also. Meeting people like this is one of the most enthralling things about traveling.

I have walked by the tailor shop I went to earlier in the day many times today and always seem to find Twuy smiling in my direction. As I pass by for what may be the last time, I make a bold decision and decide to drop in and ask Twuy if she’d like to have a drink with me later this evening. I guess I am up for another adventure. I walk in and smile at Twuy, and she smiles back and says “Hello.” Nervous and fumbling over my worlds, I still manage to indicate to her that I would like for her to have a drink with me later this evening. She excitedly responds “Yes” without hesitation and tells me to come by the shop at 8 PM.

Feeling energized, I continue to walk around charming Hoi An as the afternoon winds down. It is uncomfortably humid outside but Hoi An’s tile-roofed houses, narrow streets and pleasant river push me to continue on until I have seen as much of this town as I can. Eventually, I do make my way back to my hotel and take a refreshing dip in the pool. I jump in the water and my sweat covered body immediately cools as I submerge myself in the water. I dip my head under the water and it feels good. I don’t have any thoughts in my head at all as I stand in the pool and let my body relax. This well needed break only lasts for about 20 minutes before I return to my room to take a shower before dinner. We are taking a boat ride up the Thu Bon River to the Hoi An resort for dinner.

The boat ride offered me a much better perspective from which to view the involved process of fishing a river. There are people knee deep in the dirty river water farming for oysters as the sun sets. At the same time, there are other fishermen on boats working with large fishing nets. Gigantic, orange fishing nets are lowered down into the water and are then periodically pulled out of the river by the men and women aboard the boats using a crank that is turned manually. The nets emerge from the water with only a few fish at their bottom. This is only half the battle as the fisherman must then fight the birds that swoop down into the net and attempt to steal the catch away. This process continues hour after hour until the trawlers have made the determination that their catch is significant enough to feed them and their families, while leaving some additional fish that can later be sold to the market. In some cases, frustration mounts as the hours pass and the fishermen realize that they will never come to the determination that their catch is adequate enough to suit their needs. On these days, they head home and decide to test their luck again tomorrow.

Seeing these fishermen up close provides more evidence to me of the incredible resourcefulness of the people. They draw any fish they can out of any body of water that they can find. They farm almost any type of crop on any plot of land that has some promise of fertility. They eat fish most people in Western countries wouldn’t touch and manage to use their magical spices and cooking talent to make them taste wonderful. This is definitely something I can attest to. Seeing these people at work helps to make me realize just how spoiled I am and gives me a better picture of what is real and what is not. The bottom line is that most of these people work to survive and they seem to be quite content doing so.

After returning from dinner, I walk over to the My My Tailor Shop for my date with Thuy. She greets me warmly and we spend the next 15 minutes sitting and talking inside the tailor shop. We do our best to communicate with each other as we sit in the front area of the shop that I walked in yesterday. It is obvious to me, and understandable, that our 15 minute discussion in the tailor shop is a screening process. Twuy and her friends – who peer at us from the living area in the rear of the store where I ate lunch today - probably want to make sure that I am not some psycho off of the street. I certainly don’t blame them and find some sort of innocent romanticism in the whole situation. After Twuy feels more comfortable with me, she walks towards her bike, indicating to me that we can now leave the store. We make our way out of the store to a bar nearby. She rides her bike slowly and I walk next to her. I tell her that we can go wherever she wants to go and she tells me that she wants to go to a place nearby that one of her friends told her was very expensive. After a few minutes, we approach a Western style bar. We walk inside and find a table to sit at. I order a beer and Twuy orders a fruit shake. Like most Vietnamese women I have encountered, Twuy does not drink alcohol. By Vietnamese standards, the drinks are expensive. The beer and fruit shake cost a dollar each. We enjoy our drinks and conversation and laugh often as we discuss American and Vietnamese culture. The physical attraction is obvious as Thuy and I exchange touches to enhance our ability to communicate. This seems to be another common trait of the Vietnamese as I have been touched on the arm and shoulder many times during my trip. This kind of touchiness would make some Westerners feel uncomfortable, but I just see it as another sign of the warmth of the Vietnamese. Twuy tells me that I have a nice smile and I tell her the same. I ask her to take down her beautiful black hair and show me just how long it is. She resists but finally does let her hair down and it extends nearly to her butt. With her hair down, she looks beautiful.

After our drink, we walk outside and take a romantic stroll around town. Twuy asks me many questions about my life in Chicago and in Amsterdam. I asks her about her life in Hoi An and about her family and friends. We exchange a lot in our short meeting. Eventually, we make our way back to the bar to pick up her bike from where we left it. We continue to walk on together up to the point where our common path ends and then say goodbye to each other. We smile at each other and say that we hope we can see each other again. I could have promised to write but I didn’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. I kiss Twuy on the cheek and end a perfect evening and a perfect date.