Friday, August 16, 2013

A Flower in February




Travelling is like a drug. When you're on it, you feel free and alive. When you're not, you go through severe withdrawal.

Earlier this year I travelled back to Saigon, Vietnam, for a two month vacation. I've had a lot of time since to reflect on my trip. A lot can happen in two months when all you have is time, spending-money, and all the motivation in the world to explore and seek new things on a daily basis. Many stories would be considered blog worthy, but for myself, this one particular story stands out from the rest.

It was the week of the beginning of the Lunar New Year, which is the far-eastern equivalent to Christmas Holidays, Thanksgiving, and St. Patricks Day, combined. I met up with a group of other Canadians visiting Vietnam. After an amazing seafood dinner we decided to hit up a club, Lush. When we got there the place was packed with foreigners (my kind). It was mostly a stand up bar, but we decided we wanted a table. After a few minutes I got up to leave and scout the place out. On my way back a girl caught my eye and I decided to go over and say hi to her. I introduced myself and we eventually exchanged numbers. After we had a drink I confessed that I forgot her name, that I wasn't drunk and I was just horrible at names (to this day I still can't remember what her real name is). I told her I'd call her Bom instead which is Vietnamese for flower and she seemed to really dig it.

The following week I called her and she agreed to meet for some coffee. She told me she was with some friends and that I should come to where she was. Being the hungover, cynical asshole that I was that day I couldn't help but to worry. What if she was trying to set me up? What if when I got out of the cab, five rugged-ass Vietnamese dudes rush me on their mopeds and take all of my shit, or even worse I get kidnapped. But she was super cute and I knew I was going meet her regardless, and I felt a little more at ease when she told me to pick her up in front of the Notre-Dame Cathedral, which I knew was at a crowded downtown square.


When we met we walked around the downtown district for a few blocks. Passing by the Saigon Opera House (Above, a picture I took as we were walking by) and other landmarks. High-end retail stores now scatter in abundance throughout the core of the city. Louis Vuitton here, Dolce & Gabbana there. Almost nothing like the Vietnam I visited for the first time back in 2002. (My friends, if I could sum up the Vietnam of now in a few words it would be 'capitalism on steroids'). During our walk we exchanged the mundane and obligatory pieces of information about our day and other trivial facts regarding our lives. I can still remember the way her tanned sundress was swaying lightly in that breeze. At that moment, to me, it felt like we were in the Indochinese version of Before Sunset. Having gone full circle, we settled in at a cafe across the street from the Cathedral.

I asked her what she did for work and she told me that she serves sinh-to(fruit smoothies) and desserts at a small stall on the side of a busy road. She told me she had a younger brother and no other siblings. That her mother had passed away not too long ago, and since then she has been working at the stall every day. I asked her what her aspirations in life were and if she wanted to go back to school. What she told me I'll always remember. The sinh-to stall was actually her mothers before she passed away. While her mother was in the hospital battling illness, she had cared for her during the day, and taken over the sinh-to stall duties at night. She expressed that she couldn't see herself doing anything else, she was happy and that being at the stall and serving her customers gave her a sense of fulfilment and familiarity that brings her closer to her mother. 

When a homeless beggar was going from table to table on the patio of the cafe, Bom was the only one who reached into her bag and handed the man some money. In an ironic twist, I the tourist was asking her why she gave the beggar money, that there are so many of them walking around. What if they all came up to her and asked, would she be able to give to every one of them? She replied with a smile and told me she just felt really sorry for an old person on Lunar New Year. What happened next I kid you not. A bug had crept onto our table and I was going to squish it with my napkin. Bom was quicker than me and managed to grab the bug with hers and placed it on the ground. She revealed that she was a buddhist, and an avid temple-goer. Even something as small as an insect feels pain, and we shouldn't harm it she explained.

I had promised her I would visit her at the stall before I left, so a few days before I flew back to Canada I dropped by with a friend. It was exactly as she had described it. A few small tables and plastic stools set up along the side of a busy road. Her cousin was there helping her out that day and it was just business as usual. There was a vibrant atmosphere about the place and the night. The road was an endless stream of passing cars and mopeds. So many souls travelling in the same direction, and then dispersing. The non-stop honking of horns. The gigantic Times Square style billboards and neon signs that lit the road and gave it this hyperbolic, stylized look. The swarm of customers that would enter and leave the restaurants and karaoke bars across the street, whose music was loud enough to travel across it entirely. In the middle of all the orderly chaos, was a girl, her stall, and a few thirsty patrons. And she was more content and at home than I could have possibly known. And I was really happy for her.

Sadly, I only got to see her a couple of times. But that was enough to make the kind of impression on me that she did. Some people have this gentle element to them. Their smiles pierce through the most skeptical of eyes. Their personalities shine so bright you feel an undeniable sense of warmth when you're around them. And in a city of eight million people, and a country with ninety million, I'm glad I stumbled upon her, by a crowded dance floor, in a packed nightclub, that one night in February.



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