Tet – Vietnamese New Year

Cho tung nam moi! means Happy New Year and it’s quite a celebration from what I remember of it.

Photo on wall of ocean cafe

After two months in Vietnam I have embraced a startling reality. Most of these folks speak Vietnamese. They are really nice but have only a few words of English and often don’t understand my bad tonal Vietnamese. But when they hear me stumble over their language some get brave and offer a few timid words in my native tongue. Going to the outdoor markets is the best education.

Then you meet some loony that speaks perfect English. One such fellow named Anh Ming is one of these. He lived in France for many years and learned English while he was at it. I like English better,” he explains. He likes to drink beer in his parlor/garage, much to the leaner profits that grace the family piggybank when he’s here. He’s a live wire in his US Army hat and his plan to go to Hollywood some day.

Dinner is served!

You speak good Vietnamese. Are you CIA?

Fortunately I get my information from strategic sources: The neighborhood grandmothers who know what’s rattling all the time. The aroma from the neighborhood kitchens tells me they know something about eating as well. Last night I created my first real Vietnamese dish!

An Bang Natural Beach

Like being in a Jack Nicholson movie, Chinatown not because of any close ethnic ties, but rather because Vietnam is a lot like Southern California in the 30s and 40s. It ain’t perfect but the shaded avenues and the beach are splendid.

Tet is loosly translated as “Lot of food. You eat please.” All the ancestors come back to eat at the food altars. “It’s cold at the cemetery and we want to warm them up” according to my teacher. The kids get Lucky money in pretty red envelopes and me too! All the cousins stop and pay their noisy respects to Mr Toi who is getting hammered at 70. I stop in for brief intervals and meet everyone then make a quick exit. Mot bira Hai bira Ba bira (one, two,three beers….constant toasts.) Toi phai di ve ang I have to go. You need this phrase to survive the hops assault.

But they are out of squid salad

I take a bike ride over to An Hoi Island which must be the cosmic nuclear vortex of Hoi An. Lots of people and higher prices for some unknown reason.

These poor, deprived, victims of Communism are happier and warmer than the freedom-breathing plastic Christians that I encounter and read about in the US. It’s a shame all these cute, little kids will be spending eternity in hell because they embrace Buddhism….

A sweet breeze rambles across the rice field at my door makes me happy but a little melancholy too.

These people are perched
to take their place
in a frightening world
No Chinese. No French. No Americans
A free Vietnam for the Vietnamese.

My house in Cam Chau.

Question: Will the 8 – 10 km on bike offset my bad behavior after dark? Then Yesterday 2 beautiful potted plants brought by landlord: I must now water them water every day. When do the responsibilities end?

Today I have to buy a regulation Western fork. It’s getting far too difficult to eat scrambled eggs with chopsticks. The only way I can manage it is to turn up the lights and put my reading glasses on backwards. Tam beit!