It’s a strange thing to find yourself in a foreign land, a land you are not exactly a stranger to but foreign nonetheless. A land which, at the time of your entry, you only intended to be in for no more than a month at a time. A trip around Indonesia was in the conversation, Cambodia, maybe Laos, who knows? Diem and I had become relatively proficient at getting around affordably. But now, 10 months later, here we are. Originally I was to be back and forth between Vietnam several times by now. Instead, we find ourselves falling deeper into Da Nang, into that domesticated, routine certainty of life that becomes seemingly eternal.
A life filled with school, work, cooking, cleaning, taking out the trash, and getting people from here to there for this or that. A birthday party, a dinner with friends, a much-needed dinner date for Diem and me to get some time alone. Calling someone to fix the internet, maintenance on the water heater, or installing screens on our new apartment’s windows. Going through the joys of moving, settling into a new home, walking with the girls to get a snack or ice cream. Those beautiful nights where a great meal is had at home. Occasional sneaking away from the shop for a lunch date. Having occasional “misunderstandings” that every couple endures. To make a rambling bearable, it has become home.
The domestication of more time
Home in an absolute sense. As comfortable as a place has ever been. Maybe more so. A place I have no desire to leave. There is just something incredibly warming about Da Nang. As we move into our new apartment, that feeling only grows. As many know, we recently moved closer to the shop right in the heart of the An Thuong tourist district, on An Thuong 34, which is absolutely amazing. It’s a perfect mix of locals and expats. A less than five-minute walk from Western bars and restaurants. Mini marts with American and European snacks like tortilla chips and salsa, a variety of bread, a good cheese selection, tortillas, and all the meat and produce one would need to whip up a plate of nachos or an old-fashioned American breakfast.
It didn’t end with the food either. A five-minute walk to My Khe beach. We are now on the ground floor with total usage of the lobby, so the girls have plenty of space to stretch out and do school work. Our cable has the entire English language collection of prime movie channels like HBO and Cinemax. Not that I really watch television. But it was nice the other night to turn on the television and fall into a movie that I could understand. Even if it was Pirates of the Caribbean 26, the curse of no one cares. Additionally, many of the middle-aged expats get together at the local bowling alley for a tournament every Thursday. Can’t wait to tell that upcoming story.
An Thuong Neighborhood
Diem and I actually lived in An Thuong. I believe it was the summer of 2019, or was it winter? We, as was often the case, were on the move quite a bit. I remember enjoying the neighborhood, but we had not really spent much time in the actual neighborhood itself. I walked by several times before I realized a closed-down restaurant was a cafe we used to get coffee and ice cream in with the girls. Now it was a run-down, abandoned building. This happens frequently in Vietnam. The ebb and flow of businesses in a young, rapidly growing economy.
The concept and actual execution of the franchise is a relatively new development here. There are chain coffee shops and restaurants of course, but not a large amount spanning generations like back home. Though you know the multiple-unit businesses you see in the cities today are the beginning of that economic and cultural shift. Beyond all of that, the neighborhood just feels very metropolitan and cozy.
Our building
Our building is, like most apartment buildings in Da Nang, very new. I can say with great confidence that I have not, in the many apartments I’ve rented in Da Nang, lived in one more than two years old. In fact, we were the first in the unit of our new apartment. A distinction we shared with our previous apartment as well. That’s just another reality of a young, booming tourist city.
It still had many charming qualities that only a city neighborhood in Da Nang could have. Random empty lots filled with a community garden or a shack with a family of four, a flock of chickens, and a mismatch of cats and dogs calling it home. The corner lot directly across from our apartment houses the former. I have taken many cool, misty mornings to inspect the garden that lies just beyond our front door. Quaint coffee houses, corner restaurants, and boutique shops line the streets around our apartment. A little slice of wonderful.
School for monkeys
The only real con to all of this was the location of the girl’s school. They were both still attending near the old apartment. However, this wasn’t a real issue. One particular morning we got up a little early to get breakfast prepared and take the girls as early as possible. It was a foggy cloud-filled morning and we decided to take a ride up the mountain near our old apartment. Maybe have a cup of coffee overlooking the sea as the early morning sun melts the dense fog away.
It was a bit misty with a slight chill in the early winter morning when we headed north to drop the girls off. We arrived in front of Su’s school and it was a dizzying scene of chaos as children in their clean uniforms scurried to and fro preparing for class. We pulled up across the street from the school to the row of food carts packed with morning offerings. Cups of instant noodles, flavored milk in shelf-stable cartons, crispy snacks, breakfast sandwiches, and anything else hungry schoolchildren could want to energize their morning. Even school breakfast is often had from a cart on the street.
Headed up
Diem purchased a few cartons of milk and then escorted Su (Lisa) across the street while Xu (Jennie) and I stayed with the motorbike. Xu’s school was literally around the corner, so we hurried over to get her to class and then headed toward the mountain. The girls ‘ schools are less than a mile from the mountain, and it wasn’t long before we were headed up. We stopped at the edge of the beach where it crests sharply to the east. From this vantage point, you could see the entirety of Da Nang’s beach line. Today it was a bit foggy in this early morning, but on clear days you can see all the way south to Hoi An.
The fishing end of the beach is far away from the well-maintained tourist beaches further south. I took a few good shots of the fishing boats in the foreground of the city and its stretch of beach. As well as a few of the misty mountains above. The sun was beginning to break through in areas, and its brief glimmers of presence expressed its astonishing intensity in the cool foggy morning. We continued to climb the mountain, but no coffee shop could be found, in and out of the considerable highway switchbacks that wind around the peninsula, but no coffee shop.
The edge of the mountain
Casualties of Covid
We continued on for some time and it finally became apparent that there was no coffee shop. We had passed a few, but they were all shuttered. No doubt victims of Covid. The mountain is a major tourist draw with the Lady Buddha statue, adjacent Monastery, Pagoda, and of course wildlife enthusiasts. I hope to have a sighting of the rare and endangered Duoc monkey troops that call the mountain home. Now, few come to the mountain. Usually teaming with tour buses and motorbikes, this cool winter morning we saw few others.
Raiders of the left milk
We began to prepare to turn around, the road gets a bit harry a kilometer or so in, and automatic vehicles are not allowed. As we began to do so something caught my eye. Perched on a cliff edge just off the roadway sat an old cemetery. A small parcel of land between the guardrail and a quick route to the sea. Maybe 20 or 30 yards squared. At first, I thought it was a trash sight, as trash was strewn everywhere. At first, I mistook the white marble above-ground sarcophagi for abandoned Styrofoam coolers. Then, I noticed a lot of movement in the graveyard.
It wasn’t trash in a real sense. The graveyard had been recently filled with Buddhist offerings for the deceased. No doubt placed there by their family and friends. Boxes of milk, cans of soda, packages of cookies and crackers, fresh fruit, and even cans of beer. A rather large and well-fed troop of macaque monkeys were sitting in the graveyard fattening themselves on their incredibly lucky find. It was an easy meal for a few calories worth of effort. Lazy from their sugar crashes and doses of fatty milk and cakes, I was able to move around them with relative ease. They watched me with a suspicious eye, but I was able to get close enough to get some really high-quality close-up shots with my camera. It was an exciting but equally unfortunate experience.
Some of the shots around the cemetery.
Realities of the scene
For years the local authorities have asked the community and the mountain’s visitors to not feed the monkeys. There are even billboards on the mountain expressing the local government’s desires in this matter. For years now the growing tourist trade in Da Nang has seen exponential numbers of people exploring the mountain in recent years. This explosion in tourism has given more exposure to the monkey populations, with the mountain peninsula essentially becoming an island to the macaques and extremely rare redshank Duoc monkeys that call the mountain home. They must venture through the bulk of Da Nang and cross the city’s many bridges to find any further habitat beyond the confines of their oasis.
Now however, with tourists all but gone and recent primate generations becoming ever more comfortable with, and in some cases dependent on humans, the troops have resorted to raiding graveyards or any other area where an easy meal can be had. This has unfortunately led to the monkeys encroaching on the city’s edge near the mountain’s base. This has led to increased exposure to deadly situations with vehicles or offended city dwellers. Not to mention disease and chemical poisoning from raiding refuse bins and trash receptacles. So if you ever visit Da Nang, please, pretty please, don’t feed the monkeys.
Making the dining rounds
It goes without saying, I think, that one of the first orders of business was exploring our new old neighborhood looking for some tasty dining options. Upon initial reconnaissance, there didn’t appear to me as many street vendors floating around, but there were plenty of restaurants to choose from. There was a traditional market on the southern edge of the neighborhood where we could find more locally inspired options. We had already begun making friends with the nearby restaurants, I started writing articles for local restaurants in our new neighborhood even before we moved in.
A few restaurants
It didn’t seem to matter what was in desire. It was probably within walking distance. Traditional noodles, Turkish, Thai, German deli, you name it. My new friend Ramazan, who owns the Kebab house, called me one evening to try a new dish he had been working on. It was essentially a beef stew baked in a clay pot with a baked-on bread lid. A pot pie of sorts. With a side of hummus and a stack of fresh bread. It’s been really enjoyable having a fresh set of neighborhood spots to explore.
Ngon Thị Hoa
In case I haven’t told you, Da Nang has hit that deep winter gloominess that permeates life for a couple of months each year. Days with temperature ranges between 66 and 69. A constant mist, or cold rain blows in over the South China Sea from the north. Weather I would more closely associate with Seattle than Da Nang. The kind of weather that keeps you close to home. We were in need of lunch with little desire to move very far. We had passed by this restaurant several times. Ngon Thị Hoa, as it was called.
Colder than it looks
It was another of those massive open restaurants. Several Confucian-style houses with classic tile roofs filled the perimeter of the restaurant. A huge street presence. The front of the restaurant was the entire block. A very rare expanse in the middle of a neighborhood. An old war-era Volkswagen beetle sat on display out front. We walked through the entryway to a beautiful sight. A small area sat towards the center of the facility, housing a very unique Christmas tree. I immediately wanted one. Made of garland and different size nón lá, the official conical hat of the national costume. Complete with presents, lights, and even a star on top. I was inspired.
Restaurant shots
An unexpected trip
We sat at the center of the restaurant and ordered a light lunch. Our waiter brought our tea as I told Diem I would take a walk. There were little glimpses of things hidden around the densely planted restaurant, calling me for a closer look. The restaurant was filled with various plants, mangrove trees, and even had a florist in the corner working on the evening replacement bouquets for the different areas of the restaurant. Beautiful traditional lanterns hung from the trees between the umbrellas covering the tables in the open expanses between the houses. Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that the mangrove trees had been there before the floor was poured. Into the original base were plumbed water pipes so each tree had its own water supply.
As I stepped further towards a perimeter house, It became clear that it was the bar house. A beautiful teak wood bar with glassware hanging from above filled one end of the long open house. The bartender was on point. He was on me with a drink menu before I could reach the house’s threshold. He realized quickly I was already sitting elsewhere and only wanted a look-see. He stepped aside with a slight bow and a movement of the hands as if to say, “Yes sir, this way.” I stepped into the lounge area in front of the bar and was transported immediately through my thoughts to a Vietnam I always thought was but had never seen.
Vietnam circa 1960
I finally found the Vietnam portrayed in popular culture for many decades. The open windows, bamboo blinds, wood-grained table tops, tile floor, colors on the wall. The aesthetic was perfect. It was like a damn time capsule. The walls and spaces were filled with vintage motorbikes, scooters and mopeds. Radios, record players, wood-framed black and white televisions, and early brass electric fans. They even had a similar tape player used to play the audio of Marlon Brando for Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now. It was both beautiful and surreal.
I returned to the table after finding a vintage tuk-tuk in the front dining house. Our food arrived, and it was very good. Of course, I went for a bowl of Mi Quang, and Diem ordered a few traditional shrimp spring rolls. The mi quang was very good, not great, but very good. The spring rolls were also delicious, and we enjoyed a quiet lunch before returning to the shop.
Settling in
As we became more comfortable in our new surroundings, we had to adjust them slightly to fit our needs. There was nowhere to put my convection oven, and the property manager was nice enough to have a few shelves installed to place both the oven and microwave, as Diem had filled the microwave hole with food items like oil and dry ingredients. We only use the microwave for the occasional reheating. Almost everything on our table comes from a wok, pot, or oven. Additionally, our back “porch’ area is caged in to prevent anyone from stealing our washing machine, so they were kind enough to screen it in for us so we could keep our sliding back door open and enjoy the cool winter nights.
Flowers for Buddha
We go to the market almost every morning. I usually wait on the motorbike at the market entrance while Diem quickly grabs up meat and vegetables or takes away boxes of Banh Beo, noodles, or rice with pork. This prevents us from paying to park and the inevitable upcharge if the vendor thinks Diem is with me. Every few days, we must get fresh fruit and flowers to keep Buddha’s shrine fresh. Buddha usually gets a fresh cup of coffee every morning. And if I haven’t learned anything in my time here, I’ve learned that Buddha takes his coffee with milk. Every evening, I pull the motorbike into the lobby and always place the kickstand on a rubber coaster to protect the tile floor.
A rather unusual luncheon
It goes without saying that now that I am heavily involved in the Asian hair and beauty scene, it would only be a matter of time before we would be invited to a trade show. Sure enough, a couple of weeks ago, the gentleman we purchased our hair dyes from gave Diem and me an invite to a trade show at a local hotel, complete with lunch. I’ve been to food shows, culinary salons, and all the other events one eventually finds themselves at if one works in the restaurant business for any time.
I had never been to a hair show, so this should be interesting. Though I was sure it wouldn’t be as good as a food show. There’s nothing like gorging yourself on prime meats and the best cheeses just for the promise that you’ll consider using a particular product somewhere on your next menu. So, not sure what to expect and as always, down for anything, Diem hopped on back, and we shot across the river to the Minh Chau Viet facility. We parked our bikes and headed through the main entrance.
An unexpected trip down the rabbit hole
It began innocently enough. We stepped inside to a registration area to sign in. We were given a raffle ticket and a chance at the wheel of salon fortunes, where I promptly spun a wammie to the tune of a hair color mixing bowl and applicator brush. Feeling proud of my weak winnings, I spun for the blow dryer. We made our way in past displays of coloring products, follicle rejuvenators, and stacks of books containing chunks of human hair in a kaleidoscope of colors and textures.
We found a seat in the main hall, and I immediately felt that we had taken a wrong turn and were now crashing a wedding. Rows after row of chairs, all covered in white satin with beautiful red bows adorning their backs. Beautiful chandeliers, a red carpet splitting the seats, it was a wedding. No, it was a hair show in Da Nang, Vietnam.
Deeper we go
We found a seat and settled in for what I didn’t realize yet but would be an impressive show. An MC was decked out in a teal baby blue suit and donning a haircut that looked like animal fur was plopped on his head. He was talking to a man and woman who were in the process of turning a woman’s hair into an impossible shade of pink. I mean, pink wishes it was that pink. It would make Pink question her pinkness. What I’m trying to say is that it was pink.
The young woman sat with an absent stare. She didn’t seem to be here, nor there for that matter. Her overly oiled skin was causing such a glare against the raised features of her face as to make her look prosthetic. I stared for some time to see if I could catch her blink. I had to convince myself she wasn’t a mannequin when I finally stood up to wait off-stage for the color to cure. Her pink hair, the Beetlejuice-inspired barber’s cape, the bright red background, the very artificial appearance of the model, and the overall strangeness of the scene made for a very Burtonesque feel to the entire production.
An Epic Cut Off!
Still, in a strange fascination with what was unfolding, something genuinely unexpected and surprisingly enjoyable to watch began to play out on the stage. The lady in pink was escorted off to allow her hair to set, and two chairs were brought on stage. Two young women sat down and were adorned with barber capes. Meanwhile, two of the coolest-looking dudes I had ever seen walked on stage, and one stood next to each victim.
One was Zorro-like with simple black threads, a few protruding tattoos, and long Fabio-like black hair. The other looked like he had been cutting hair in the matrix. A skunk mullet with shaved sides. A long, silken black hooded cardigan covered his shiny, modern cut changsha underneath. Scarfs, gold, shiny buttons, and zippers filled much of his attire. The two had come for a cut-off. They were two of the best with a pair of hair shears in central Vietnam, and they had come to do battle.
Let’s get ready to rumble
From the word go, it was just mind-blowing. I have never seen a pair of scissors do so much and so quickly. It was filled with the lore of ninja legend. He must have been cutting hair in the matrix for real because some of his moves were inhuman. I sat in amazement as the two sculpted their masterpieces skillfully and efficiently. It really was fascinating to watch. A strange trip inside Tim Burton’s night before Mad Max gets a haircut in The Matrix.
After the cut-off was complete, the models walked the isles like the models they were, and a commotion erupted. I assume it had to do with a potential winner. Understanding a less-than-minimal amount of what was being spoken, I was content to wander off after the show. The crowd immediately dispersed, and lunch was announced. Diem looked at me for some sort of assurance, and I gave an understanding nod. I’m never one to turn down a free meal, but it was time to blow this popsicle stand.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
I must be candid and say this holiday season has been depressing. Thanksgiving is obviously not a thing here. The lack of Christmas decorations one would see on sale by September in the US. It was just lackluster, and my emotions were feeling the strain. Then, one day, when I was headed to the house from the shop, a 5-minute walk and 2-minute motorbike ride, something was stirring in the air. The entrance to our street was abuzz with our neighbors hurrying to hang lights and fill the street with decorations.
Diem asked what was going on. Apparently, the neighborhood was kicking off Christmas with a street festival today, the Saturday before Christmas. How wonderful, and all just outside our door. I waited in the apartment with a childlike impatience, waiting for Diem to finish closing the shop. I dare not venture out without her and spoil the fun and excitement. So I waited with childish impatience that one seldom gets past middle age, but is always a treat to experience.
An Thuong 34 Holiday Street Festival and Party
Diem finally arrived, and we bundled up as it was incredibly cold that day, especially for central Vietnam. We made our way out the front door and the 30 feet or so to the party. I just love our new proximity. Lights had been strung over the street. A Santa house had been erected. It was rumored the big man himself may be making a visit to Da Nang this year. Cocktail tables were set up on the sidewalks. Decorated in beautiful white linen with red accents. The Canadian contingent had set up a street hockey arena on the side street. A very enthusiastic mini-game was taking place on the edge of the festivities.
Diem and I walked the street, just soaking in the holiday cheer. A small stage had been placed across the street from the central party hub. A British musician named Andrew Goode was just beginning a very sweet rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”, and my heart just melted. That spirit of Christmas that everyone gets at least once every year. That feeling of joy, thankfulness, kindness, and, well, love that sweeps over from time to time poured over me in that moment. It was so overwhelming that even writing about the experience now tears me up. It was a wondrous evening in the cold Da Nang night.
A Trip Down Santa Claus Lane
It was now the Sunday before Christmas, and it was time to begin putting the bow, so to speak, on the girl’s Christmas morning. You can get most Christmas things and see them sporadically around Da Nang, but as I’ve said, It just isn’t the same saturated feel. That Christmas in your face by summer’s end kind of Christmas I most definitely complained about many Christmases past, but now was missed. All of those small town square displays that dot the landscape of suburban America. The parades and parties, festivals and lights. Though in many ways, I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling that underwhelming feeling Christmas 2020 seems to have.
But Diem had the remedy for my longing blues, and in a typical North Georgia fashion, we went Christmas shopping in the cold winter rain. In the freezing rain, we darted across Da Nang under our tightened ponchos. Diem called out directions as I zipped through traffic. I had to do the strange Vietnamese driving technique of getting as far to the right of the roadway as possible. I stopped at a slight angle to see clearly behind me while simultaneously looking for a spot to park the motorbike on the packed sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. But Diem was already on it and pointed out an empty patch between two gangs of Santas, and I peeled through a quick break in the traffic. We had arrived on Santa Claus Lane.
Jingle All the Way
We parked the bike and began to explore the street. It was a single street, as is typical Vietnamese fashion, dedicated to selling one thing. Anything involving Christmas. Toy shops are tucked between wrapping shops and decoration shops. On and on and on, it seemed to go. Each shop had several Santas holding flyers, chanting Merry Christmas, and waiving to the passersby. In childish wonder, I began hopping around the shops, looking for everything we needed to make a typical Christmas morning. We already have a tree. Now we just need items to put underneath it.
We explored the nooks and crannies of the shops in search of gifts for Su and Xu. In Vietnam, it is a very common practice for anything you may want to purchase to be opened, assembled, and interactively demonstrated so you can get a complete feel for what you may be purchasing. Either way, it is all carefully repackaged and either put in with your other items for purchase or replaced on the shelf. Everything came with complimentary wrapping and delivery. By now, we had wrapped up most of our Christmas shopping, pun intended, save for a few items. We had to go to the bookstore for stockings, and on Wednesday, we would head to the grocery store for candy, fruit, and stocking stuffers.
Da Nang International Fellowship Christmas Party
As would also happen in a healthy serving of Christmas circumstance, the church we attend in Da Nang would hold its own Christmas party the following night of the street festival. So, after a fun day on Santa Clause lane, Diem and I gathered the girls up, and we all headed to the DIF Christmas party. It was being held in the fourth-floor ballroom of the Avatar Hotel, which happened to be one street over from our new apartment.
I was beginning to become more excited for the girls. They had no real idea of what Christmas really was in the heart of America. Something I was tremendously overjoyed to share with them now. I think Diem, too, is somewhat overwhelmed by what is coalescing around us. With umbrellas in hand, we walked through the streets in the cold winter drizzle and entered the hotel. The hotel was relatively quiet as we walked past the lobby desk, reached the elevators, and stepped inside.
An Evening full of Christmas cheer.
The elevators opened to handouts of reindeer ears for all and tables filled with various fruits, cakes, and other party treats. We went in to see our old friend Chaz stepping in for the part of the big man himself. We posed for some Christmas photos and made the rounds. A human Christmas tree decorating contest, synchronized dancing, and a cookie decorating station. The girls, of course, jumped on the cookie station, as well as myself. It was just like decorating cookies at my grandmother’s house.
We danced and played into the evening. The girls had fun, Diem had fun, and I had a wonderful time. Christmas was a few days away. The boxes have been checked. Christmas Eve service will be here soon as we look to a new and more fortunate year. I can’t help but feel a sense of hope. A hope of a better tomorrow. We are finally turning the page for a new chapter. It truly has, against all odds, become a very Merry Christmas. Maybe that positive momentum will carry on. So, as the silent, holy night draws near. From Diem, myself, and the rest of the family. May everyone have a very merry little Christmas.
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Amazing content. I like it. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading. I enjoy tremendously sharing our experiences.