A Change of Plans
In the early morning fog of the rising sun, the house was buzzing with everyone saying their goodbyes and heading home. Hai and his wife were headed back near Da Nang this misty morning. I thought my ride-in had been a little rough. They both piled on a motorbike. Duffel bag between him and the handlebars. Another large piece of luggage between them, a heavy pack on her back and sitting on the very edge of the back of the bike. Off they went, beginning their 4-hour ride back down the crowded, slow-going rural roads of the countryside.
Comfort was a commodity out here. Their ability to endure less-than-ideal and difficult conditions was amazing to me. I felt that some of the things I have seen and experienced here will forever change my perspective and leave me ever thankful. Our plans had originally been to head back to Da Nang this morning as well. But had pushed it off till the following morning of the 7th. Diem’s friends from school and her youth were all home for the holidays and wanted to get together and enjoy a day of freedom. The bulk of the holiday had concluded, and free from family duties and commitments, it was time for them to unwind and have some fun. That’s just what we did.
Adapting to a Modern World
It’s an interesting thing to see the younger generation navigate the waters of change. Trying to find their own identity while dealing with the traditions of the lingering feudal society. Ancient customs are still very embedded in the daily activities here in the foothills of the countryside. It’s no wonder the youth are flocking to the city centers where a more progressively Western lifestyle is developing.
You can see the designer clothing stores and upscale shoe shops dotted among the local food stalls. I’ve said it before: it’s a very unique thing to see what’s happening here in Vietnam. The younger generation, like the noble Phoenix, rises from the ashes of a once war-torn country. Trying to find their way in this recently opened world. Not unlike any other millennials, they just want a life to call their own.
A Cup of Coffee
It started out with a coffee shop and friends around a table as most days seemed to be here. I met more new friends, and we drank lots of coffee and fresh coconut water until hunger set in. The coffee shop was open-air and beautifully decorated as most were in the countryside. The plants here were almost reminiscent of something one might see in a magic show. Big, healthy bonsai trees seemed to defy science as they grew on rocks that sat in shallow concrete tables 4 feet off the ground. No soil to speak of, they seemed to leach nutrients from the lichen-covered rocks their roots so tightly gripped.
There were always exotic tropical birds in cages out here, and as you sat in the jungle like open-air shops, the birds would sing, and it gave the environment a very Hemingwayesque romanticism. After sitting in the shop for most of the morning it was time to grab a bite to eat. We exited the shop, leaving our bikes behind, and walked down a sandy alley to a rather large restaurant.
Lunch in the Village
The steel awnings that covered her tiered seating areas had to be at least 25 feet high, no doubt to keep the heat radiating from them high above. There were young people everywhere. I seemed to be one of the older people here. It looked like the entire village’s youth of 25 to 35 was eating lunch here today. We sat at a table, and a bucket of ice, a case of beer, endless dishes, and bowls of food were sat on the table before us.
We sat eating and drinking for a while and unable to participate much in conversation I was interested in doing some exploring. I excused myself and began to walk the complex. There was a covered area off to the side that provided shelter for the countless motorbikes owned by the restaurant’s diners. I walked around the building and found a path that led back into the forested outskirts of the village. I walked for a while, found some pretty rustic areas, and wandered through a palm forest just off the path. Large dry leaves covered the forest floor and the sun’s bright rays were twinkling and flowing down through the breezy tree tops.
Karaoke
Sensing that I had probably been gone long enough, I started wandering back to the restaurant. Everyone was still laughing and eating, so I took up a spot in one of the hammocks under the shelter with the motorbikes. I rocked and dozed in and out in the hot jungle heat, taking in the scene. It was very peaceful here, and it was really leaving quite an impression on me.
Everyone had pretty much had their fill, and it was time for some Karaoke. I was a little surprised at the quality of the karaoke bar here, why, I wasn’t sure. Everywhere I had been in Vietnam, the most modern facilities one would find were Karaoke bars. Even out here in the village, that was the case. Large open-air facilities like the other places, but they had private air-conditioned rooms with modern music equipment and a Karaoke system that had an impressive selection. Everyone sang for several hours, munching on fresh fruit and laughing a lot. I even busted out my best rendition of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing and finished it off to uproarious applause.
Time With Friends in the Countryside
After Karaoke, we traveled into the back part of the village, further into the hills, for a kind of house party. Countless people came and went, and we sat with legs crossed on the tile floor of the home for hours. I had to get up every few minutes, and I think it was offending some. I explained that I was used to cushions and chair backs. In the States, we were very spoiled in that way, and sitting on hard surfaces for hours did not go over well with my ankles, back, hips, pelvis, or any part of my body for that matter. They got a laugh out of it and seemed to understand my need to stand often, but something else was going on that was capturing my attention.
Even though we were eating seeds and snacks, a more substantial hunger was brewing. One of the ladies in the group had walked off a few minutes earlier and now was walking back up out of the darkness with a live chicken in her hand, feet bound, and tossed it to the floor next to the crowd. Simultaneously, one of the men was building and stoking a fire in a small portable “pit”. You have my attention. Another gentleman grabbed the chicken and headed into the house. I followed behind, phone in hand.
A Quick Snack
The efficiency with which this bird went from scratching in the yard to in my mouth was beyond impressive. The bird’s throat was slit, bled into a bowl, scorched with hot water, plucked by hand, chopped into edible pieces, cooked over the open flame, and eaten in 30 minutes tops. There is something respectful and reverent about seeing and participating in such an experience.
The first Chef I ever worked for was a man named Chris Brandt. He was the Executive Chef at Food Studio. I was finishing up Culinary school and coming of age in the restaurant world. It was the dawn of the 21st century, and things were changing quickly in the restaurant scene in Atlanta. Some of the best years, both professionally and personally. It was an incredible time of growth and learning for this young man from the country. Chef Brandt had me read a book called the French Laundry by Thomas Keller.
The Importance of Rabbit
He is considered today to be one of, if not the best, American-born Chef. There is a chapter in the book called The Importance of Rabbit. It is basically a story of his early days coming up in the business and a Chef he worked for in the French countryside. He was taken to the rabbit pen out back. There, the Chef showed him how to dispatch, clean, and prepare the living rabbits for dinner service. The Chef left him to his work, and what ensued was a very difficult attempt to complete his task.
The first rabbit broke his leg trying to escape, and the experience was becoming increasingly impossible. He did, however, finally complete the task, and his reverence for food was forever changed. The lesson here is always to be thankful for your food. To sustain your life, something has to give up theirs. It’s a lesson that comes flooding back now as I eat the animal here. Who gave the ultimate sacrifice to feed us on this warm, humid night among the rice patties.
