Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
arriving in the late afternoon and finding the government-owned guest house, which
struck me as a cross between a dormitory and a prison, with small rooms with stone
walls and stone beds.
The town itself was shabby and poor, but we found our way to the marketplace,
which was bustling and lively, rows of stalls filled with bushels of tomatoes, onions,
beans, sacks of rice, slaughtered chickens hanging from beams, and live chickens await-
ing their fate in covered baskets. Other stalls were selling colored silks, knitted shoulder
bags, cloth hats.
Albert and I attracted a lot of attention. Curious kids followed us around as we pre-
tended to shop, and I was amused by Albert, who chatted amiably and volubly with the
women in each stall, though no one understood anything anyone else was saying. Even-
tually, we walked back out onto the main street, and by that time, news of strangers in
town had spread and like a pair of Pied Pipers we had a trail of people behind us, laugh-
ing, pointing, and indisputably enjoying themselves.
There wasn't much to see on the street—a few lots, a few ramshackle huts. After a
couple hundred yards, we passed a house, an actual house, one story, with three or four
men sitting on the porch drinking, and seeing the parade, they waved and motioned us
over. We were immediately given teacups of rice wine, and two men vacated their chairs,
squatting on their haunches—a posture everyone in the country seemed to find comfort-
able—so that we might sit. As we drank, the crowd on the street stood by watching, as
if at a fascinating television program, as if the sight of two Americans drinking rice wine
with a handful of Vietnamese men was both delightful and difficult to believe.
After a time the crowd faded away and the men invited us inside to share dinner.
It was a small, neatly kept home, but it was unclear who lived there, maybe all of the
men we were drinking with, who ranged from their thirties to their fifties; it's possible
they were brothers or otherwise related. Two young women—wives? sisters? daughters?
I could never figure it out—had prepared the meal, noodles and
pho
, which was laid out
on a carpet on the floor, and a couple of small children were crawling around, maybe ten
people in the room all told. It was a gathering full of warmth, fueled by the rice wine,
which was powerful—I have a photo of myself being hugged by one of our hosts, both
of us looking more than a little boozy—even though any sort of informed communica-
tion was more or less futile. Once again I found Albert's gregariousness noteworthy; it
didn't seem to matter to him that no one understood a word he was saying, but it didn't
seem to matter to our hosts, either. They were engaged by his evident good cheer.
Finally, well after dark, Albert and I stumbled back to the guest house, fell asleep,
and were woken up at 5:30 a.m. by blasts of military music and exhortatory announce-
