forbids it, though I’m sure Tan can help us out and make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”
Tan grinned widely and reached out his hand.
“I’m happy to help,” he said as he took the beer and immediately began guzzling.
Jason and Tan were phenomenal friends to me. Maybe it was the rumbling of my stomach or my eyes which constantly wandered over to Jason’s stash of snacks, but one way or another they knew they needed to feed me. And that they did. They took me to one of Hanoi’s popular western restaurants and ordered me a whole rack of ribs. I must admit it hit the spot more than the green leafy grass and soup Tan got for me after we had left the police station in Thai Nguyen. After I downed the massive ribs, the heaping fries and four Cokes, my stomach purred beautifully. First time I felt full in three days due to travel and my country-side escapades. I didn’t know how to thank my gracious, accidental hosts. I felt indebted, but when I tried to thank them, they seemed almost embarrassed by my flattery.
After Tan finished the beer, we walked into the busy, broad avenue and the street lights greeted us as dusk closed in. Cars and motorbikes whizzed by at dizzying speeds, but Tan and Jason helped me dodge them effortlessly as we walked north for a block towards the glittering lights which illuminated the trees around Hanoi’s most famous lake.
“This is Hoan Kiem Lake,” Tan continued his history lesson. “It means Returned Sword Lake. There is a famous story about a giant turtle that lives in lake. One day the emperor…”
Tan talked as he always did. Jason asked clarifying questions about the story, and as I listened half-heartedly, I came to realize that I had been in Vietnam for nearly twelve hours but I had yet to experience or see Vietnam. My whole focus had been on fulfilling my dad’s wish, of which I had failed miserably. But now, for the first time, I began to look at Vietnam around me. This was certainly not the Vietnam that my dad experienced. But there was something vibrant about it. It had something that Lyndora did not – life. We crossed the street and started walking around the edge of the lake. People were everywhere doing everything. A group of old men sat under a lamp post playing Chinese chess. A steady stream of joggers weaved their way through the commotion. A group of boys carrying wooden boxes approached every foreigner asking if they wanted a shoe shine. Couples snuggled close on benches gazing at the lake, perhaps hoping for a turtle sighting. Sellers balanced a scale-like bamboo contraption over their shoulders hawking exotic fruit and fresh baked baguettes while others sold toothbrushes, toiletries, and toothpicks. One small boy tagged along with our threesome halfway around the lake imploring us to buy a pack of Wrigley’s gum off of him. The chaos overwhelmed my senses, and I became entranced by the ceaseless action and the unrelenting flow of people. Every few seconds I saw that girl, the one I had clung on to, the one who stole from me, the one with the innocent face and the smooth skin. The one that nearly smiled at me. There she went again, and again. Every thin face, every curved body, every long haired girl looked identical to her. I wished the girl, whom I had held in my tight grip, had smiled at me. What would I have done? My dad knew what to do when a girl smiled at him. I was not like my dad.
Magical. My heart stood squarely in a magical place. I could feel the swelling of my hands and the lump in my throat. This is Vietnam. This is where my dad left his soul. This is where the girl smiled at him. This is where my dad will remain forever.
“Martin, you gotta try this place out. Best ice cream in the world. Come on.”
We crossed over the double lane, tree lined avenue and entered a small French ice cream shop tastefully decorated with black metal, curved chairs and small round, wooden tables. We chatted about nothing in particular as Jason ordered several
Tan grinned widely and reached out his hand.
“I’m happy to help,” he said as he took the beer and immediately began guzzling.
Jason and Tan were phenomenal friends to me. Maybe it was the rumbling of my stomach or my eyes which constantly wandered over to Jason’s stash of snacks, but one way or another they knew they needed to feed me. And that they did. They took me to one of Hanoi’s popular western restaurants and ordered me a whole rack of ribs. I must admit it hit the spot more than the green leafy grass and soup Tan got for me after we had left the police station in Thai Nguyen. After I downed the massive ribs, the heaping fries and four Cokes, my stomach purred beautifully. First time I felt full in three days due to travel and my country-side escapades. I didn’t know how to thank my gracious, accidental hosts. I felt indebted, but when I tried to thank them, they seemed almost embarrassed by my flattery.
After Tan finished the beer, we walked into the busy, broad avenue and the street lights greeted us as dusk closed in. Cars and motorbikes whizzed by at dizzying speeds, but Tan and Jason helped me dodge them effortlessly as we walked north for a block towards the glittering lights which illuminated the trees around Hanoi’s most famous lake.
“This is Hoan Kiem Lake,” Tan continued his history lesson. “It means Returned Sword Lake. There is a famous story about a giant turtle that lives in lake. One day the emperor…”
Tan talked as he always did. Jason asked clarifying questions about the story, and as I listened half-heartedly, I came to realize that I had been in Vietnam for nearly twelve hours but I had yet to experience or see Vietnam. My whole focus had been on fulfilling my dad’s wish, of which I had failed miserably. But now, for the first time, I began to look at Vietnam around me. This was certainly not the Vietnam that my dad experienced. But there was something vibrant about it. It had something that Lyndora did not – life. We crossed the street and started walking around the edge of the lake. People were everywhere doing everything. A group of old men sat under a lamp post playing Chinese chess. A steady stream of joggers weaved their way through the commotion. A group of boys carrying wooden boxes approached every foreigner asking if they wanted a shoe shine. Couples snuggled close on benches gazing at the lake, perhaps hoping for a turtle sighting. Sellers balanced a scale-like bamboo contraption over their shoulders hawking exotic fruit and fresh baked baguettes while others sold toothbrushes, toiletries, and toothpicks. One small boy tagged along with our threesome halfway around the lake imploring us to buy a pack of Wrigley’s gum off of him. The chaos overwhelmed my senses, and I became entranced by the ceaseless action and the unrelenting flow of people. Every few seconds I saw that girl, the one I had clung on to, the one who stole from me, the one with the innocent face and the smooth skin. The one that nearly smiled at me. There she went again, and again. Every thin face, every curved body, every long haired girl looked identical to her. I wished the girl, whom I had held in my tight grip, had smiled at me. What would I have done? My dad knew what to do when a girl smiled at him. I was not like my dad.
Magical. My heart stood squarely in a magical place. I could feel the swelling of my hands and the lump in my throat. This is Vietnam. This is where my dad left his soul. This is where the girl smiled at him. This is where my dad will remain forever.
“Martin, you gotta try this place out. Best ice cream in the world. Come on.”
We crossed over the double lane, tree lined avenue and entered a small French ice cream shop tastefully decorated with black metal, curved chairs and small round, wooden tables. We chatted about nothing in particular as Jason ordered several
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