glanced once more my way. Our eyes met, and he smiled warmly at me. He intrigued me.
“Look at that. He asked all about you,” Jessica boasted to me.
“No.”
“Come on. He’ll be back for another shave before you know it.”
I did wonder if I would ever meet him again.
“Hey, are you busy now?” Jessica asked me.
“No. I have nothing going on until tonight.”
“Great. Then come back with me to my guest house. I have some friends coming from Hanoi and we are going to barbeque this afternoon.”
“All right,” I said as I noticed Mr. Duc getting into his black car and driving away.
____________
When we got back to Jessica’s guest house, two Americans were waiting for us.
“I’m sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Jessica apologized to the one male and one female who were sitting on the wicker patio furniture. They both looked to be in their early twenties.
“No, don’t worry about it. We just got here about twenty minutes ago,” said the girl who gave Jessica a hug.
“Hey, this is Vietnam. We’re used to waiting,” said the tall and quite handsome guy.
Jessica also gave him a quick hug.
“Sarah, Jason. I want you to meet my dear friend My Phuong.”
We all greeted each other in a very friendly manner. One thing I admired about Americans was their friendliness. Every American I had ever met went out of their way to be kind and polite to me. They treated people casually – like you were long lost friends although you had just met each other. In typical fashion, I was laughing and jabbing away with Sarah and Jason in no time at all. I volunteered to take Sarah to the market to buy meat and vegetables while Jason worked on starting some charcoal which Jessica had piled high in an old pig trough. We were all fast friends.
When Sarah and I got back from the market, the charred pieces of wood glowed a deep grey with brilliant orange around the edges. They put the large rack of ribs and the pieces of chicken on the grill as we chatted about what it was like for foreigners to live in Vietnam. I was always fascinated by this topic and wondered if I would ever get a chance to experience another culture.
By the time we sat down to eat, we had a veritable feast in front of us. Ribs, chicken, cole slaw, and cans of Pringles but no beer. Jessica and her friends never drank. They said their organization forbad it, which seemed bizarre to me. I loved beer, especially with barbequed meat. Vietnamese men have a social custom called nhau when friends will go out and drink, eat and socialize. Not to be restricted by social mores, Hoa and I would nhau at least once a week. At the end of the night we would stagger onto our motorbikes with red faces and little inhibition before hitting the night spots. But now I would have to settle for a Coke as they brought out several bottles from Jessica’s room.
“Jessica, do you have a bottle opener?” asked Jason as he put the bottles of Coke on the fold-out table.
“Yeah. In my kitchen cabinet. Second drawer on the left.”
“No need. I have one on my key chain,” I said and pulled it out from my purse. I had a Hanoi Beer bottle opener right on my key chain which Hoa and I used liberally – never in front of Jessica though.
I handed Jason my keychain and he opened the bottles one by one and tossed the key chain down on the table. We chatted and laughed over the food and drink. It wasn’t as happy as it would have been if they were beer drinkers, but we had a very good time overall.
At around 12:30, we were stuffed and Jessica and I settled down on her couch and crashed up against each other.
“I’m so full,” I said.
“Me too,” said Jessica. “Jason, just come and relax. We can clean that stuff up tomorrow.”
Jason was outside piling up dishes and glasses on the table. Suddenly he entered the room with something in his hand.
“Is this yours?” he asked me pointing at the key ring in his hand.
“Yes.”
“Martin Kinney. You
“Look at that. He asked all about you,” Jessica boasted to me.
“No.”
“Come on. He’ll be back for another shave before you know it.”
I did wonder if I would ever meet him again.
“Hey, are you busy now?” Jessica asked me.
“No. I have nothing going on until tonight.”
“Great. Then come back with me to my guest house. I have some friends coming from Hanoi and we are going to barbeque this afternoon.”
“All right,” I said as I noticed Mr. Duc getting into his black car and driving away.
____________
When we got back to Jessica’s guest house, two Americans were waiting for us.
“I’m sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Jessica apologized to the one male and one female who were sitting on the wicker patio furniture. They both looked to be in their early twenties.
“No, don’t worry about it. We just got here about twenty minutes ago,” said the girl who gave Jessica a hug.
“Hey, this is Vietnam. We’re used to waiting,” said the tall and quite handsome guy.
Jessica also gave him a quick hug.
“Sarah, Jason. I want you to meet my dear friend My Phuong.”
We all greeted each other in a very friendly manner. One thing I admired about Americans was their friendliness. Every American I had ever met went out of their way to be kind and polite to me. They treated people casually – like you were long lost friends although you had just met each other. In typical fashion, I was laughing and jabbing away with Sarah and Jason in no time at all. I volunteered to take Sarah to the market to buy meat and vegetables while Jason worked on starting some charcoal which Jessica had piled high in an old pig trough. We were all fast friends.
When Sarah and I got back from the market, the charred pieces of wood glowed a deep grey with brilliant orange around the edges. They put the large rack of ribs and the pieces of chicken on the grill as we chatted about what it was like for foreigners to live in Vietnam. I was always fascinated by this topic and wondered if I would ever get a chance to experience another culture.
By the time we sat down to eat, we had a veritable feast in front of us. Ribs, chicken, cole slaw, and cans of Pringles but no beer. Jessica and her friends never drank. They said their organization forbad it, which seemed bizarre to me. I loved beer, especially with barbequed meat. Vietnamese men have a social custom called nhau when friends will go out and drink, eat and socialize. Not to be restricted by social mores, Hoa and I would nhau at least once a week. At the end of the night we would stagger onto our motorbikes with red faces and little inhibition before hitting the night spots. But now I would have to settle for a Coke as they brought out several bottles from Jessica’s room.
“Jessica, do you have a bottle opener?” asked Jason as he put the bottles of Coke on the fold-out table.
“Yeah. In my kitchen cabinet. Second drawer on the left.”
“No need. I have one on my key chain,” I said and pulled it out from my purse. I had a Hanoi Beer bottle opener right on my key chain which Hoa and I used liberally – never in front of Jessica though.
I handed Jason my keychain and he opened the bottles one by one and tossed the key chain down on the table. We chatted and laughed over the food and drink. It wasn’t as happy as it would have been if they were beer drinkers, but we had a very good time overall.
At around 12:30, we were stuffed and Jessica and I settled down on her couch and crashed up against each other.
“I’m so full,” I said.
“Me too,” said Jessica. “Jason, just come and relax. We can clean that stuff up tomorrow.”
Jason was outside piling up dishes and glasses on the table. Suddenly he entered the room with something in his hand.
“Is this yours?” he asked me pointing at the key ring in his hand.
“Yes.”
“Martin Kinney. You
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