We arrived at the homestead just before dark. It had been my first time on a motorbike here, and it was exhilarating. We had wound down a dirt jungle path and crossed a small bridge that a large American SUV would have difficulty managing. We then drove under a red and blue archway that, I assume, marked the name, province, and other important information about this quiet village. We curved around a bend, and I found myself on the edge of a steep man-made wall that led down to the waters’ edge of the An Lao river below. We darted and dodged past other motorbikes going in the opposite direction. we veered off of this path and headed into a thickly vegetated collection of dusty cross streets and age-old family homes. We rolled through a pair of opened large gates, and before it could come to a complete stop, I was ushered in to take a bath.
We were at the Ancestral home of the family I had come to Vietnam with, which was impressive. It belonged to the parents of Diem, and it was her childhood home. Marble and granite polished tile floors, beautifully crafted woodwork. Glassless windows and no A/C or ceiling fans. The massive 10-foot French mahogany doors and giant shutters were fastened up tightly at night. Almost the entire property was covered with ten roofing some 15 plus feet above. The areas for growing the houses herbs and greens were the only areas not shaded. There were flip-flops everywhere as the polished tiles denoted the DMZ for footwear. the outer raised patio had a moor quarry tile unpolished feel, and it was where motorbikes were parked and shoes kept. No one seemed to care which ones they put on they were more like house flops. The kitchen and work area were not entirely unfamiliar to me.
I had seen outside kitchens and work areas in the countryside of Latin America, but there they were more relics of a former time as family members away working in the States had sent money back for more modern equipment. Here, however, it was all still in use. The pig pen and chicken coops are on the backside against the back wall of the property. The closets were outside and opened as everything else here was, and clothes needed a place to dry out of the rain. Coconut trees lined the streets and properties. Fresh coconut water with chunks of fresh coconut was the lemonade of the village and there was always a pitcher available. Bananas hung from trees everywhere, and there was always a fresh bunch on the table. Fresh sweet tamarind pods sat in bowls, and I was seen often sucking out the sticky sweet pulp. Fresh lychees and mandarins and mangoes fruit was consumed on a level unparalleled at home, it was ripe, it was sweet, it was organic.
There was a giant pot of something or another with whatever in it on the fire outside, and I sat down to two steaming bowls. with the greens, onions, and chilis plucked from the garden as needed, it was incredibly fresh and bright. In the stalls and restaurants, there was usually a sign saying what something was, here it was too much effort to ask. Sometimes, I felt, It was better I didn’t know. I was shown to my room and surprised that I was the only one afforded the privilege of privacy as everyone was here for the Lunar New Year and some were piled three to a full-size bed. Half the village was family, and this wasn’t the only house accommodating guests. The bed had a mosquito net, though a functional modern one, not just a net hanging from the ceiling. The bed was a raised plat with 2-inch slats across a wood beaded mat about 1/4 inch thick and a half-inch thick, a piece of old packing foam the size of the full-size bed wrapped in a fitted angry bird sheet. Apart from that, there was a makeshift dresser in the corner that was nothing more than a stackable set of plastic pull-out drawers resembling something from the container store. There was no way I was complaining as some were sleeping on a blanket on the marble floor.
The wifi worked pretty well, and most of the younger family members spoke English. Once settled in, I was escorted around the village to be introduced to everyone. The smaller children of the village rode up on their bikes. They oooh’d, wow’d, and ahhhh’d. It was a little odd but humbling as I was the first Westerner a lot of people in the village had ever seen. I was asked if I would take pictures, and a lot of selfies were taken. Everyone was kind and generous and wanted me to partake in whatever their house was known for. This house grew the best bananas. This one had the best tea. I was a celebrity here, and it was incredibly strange. As I finished making the rounds, we headed back to the main house. The younger generation was headed to the slightly bigger village a few kilometers away for coffee. There weren’t any real shops here except maybe a house with a small makeshift store in it selling a few basic items. We were all headed by motorbike as there were no cars out there and no taxis either. I will make a point to say in regards to the conservatism of the village, Since we were leaving the property, the woman, including the Americanized Tina, had to put on dresses, though I was told I was okay. It was hot here in the jungle, and it was the first time I didn’t have a button-up and a pair of slacks. It was well after dark, and I didn’t know we would be leaving again. Diem handed me a helmet as she donned hers. I climbed on back and, in what must have been a funny site, caravanned single file down the narrow jungle path and back the way we came from earlier in the day. It is an impressive sight to see a woman in a dress, made up for a night out on the town, navigate a dusty moonlit street on a motorbike. These women are tough as nails and have nerves of steel.
We sat in the cafe and drank coffee for about an hour. I was the only one with more than one, and everywhere I went, people commented on my coffee drinking. That’s how us Americans roll, I tried to explain, but that was also lost in translation. After coffee, we returned to the house, and everyone sat on the marble floor and played cards while I did some writing. It was fascinating to watch them play their game and have their laughs. Around 11 o’clock, I retired and fell quickly to sleep.
