A big thanks to my editor
shadysweet
!
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My coffee and pastry cost 70,000 Δα»ng which converts to about 3 dollars. The coffee was rich as candy, wonderfully sweet with condensed milk. Jet-lagged, I was sitting in an outdoor cafe near my hotel in Ho Chi Minh City, which everyone knows as Saigon - hot as the dickens, lush, green and noisy.
The following day would be the first major conference on early Southeast Asian Art since the pandemic. I am Dr. Abigail Howard, a fully tenured professor at the University of British Columbia, though I'm just 34 years old. I've been published on Asian art and antiquities, including the Angkor Wat and the Japanese shrine of Izumo Taisha. This trip to Vietnam was new chapter for me. I've got a pretty good overview of the developmental timelines, but want to see it up close in the museums and ancient cities. Hopefully, I might visit the ancient royal capital, the city of Hue, time allowing.
Here I was solo in that wonderful, exotic, tropical place. As I surveyed the throng of pedestrians and 3-wheel cabs, my mind wandered back to when I canceled two of my almost weddings, Phillip and Danny. Good decisions, in retrospect. Somehow I created my trajectory to remain single Lately, I had not dated much anymore and was overly dedicated to my studies. Single women are so misunderstood.
Just then a young woman sat down opposite me at the table, and I realized she was speaking English to me. She had a sweet voice with an odd twang and many words mispronounced, emphasizing some consonants or not saying them at all. I noticed she was dragging a suitcase.
"Hi, I can sit here?" she asked. "Sorry to intrude. You may be American, rye? My name Bao."
"Hello, well... Canadian, actually, but yes of course. You may sit there," I said agreeably. "Bao...lovely name. My name is Abigail," I said. "Why do you have a suitcase?"
She laughed shyly, with a cute smile. "Oh, it is hard time for me. I just left my huzbing. He spend so much money on gamble and prostitute!"
"Oh dear," I commiserated, shocked at such over-personal details. "So you're on your way to stay with your family, right?"
"No, my mother don't understand ever to leave man. I want study college in other country, so actually dis why I sit with you! Can I ask you some question? Maybe you diplomat, or business lady. I want to travel and meet Westiner," said Bao.
"Well," I sighed, "Actually I am a professor attending a week-long conference. I was about to see some museums."
Why was I explaining so much? Was this a scam? I confess that I was somewhat worried that I was foolish to make friends so fast. But what could be the harm?
"Ok, I am expert on museum!" She exclaimed. "I be your tour guide! No charge. We should go to Museum of Vietnamese History near the park on river." She mentioned the exhibits and what days and hours they're open. She obviously was well acquainted with the museum I wanted to see. "We have agreement?"
"Well, yes - that is exactly the museum I wanted to see. Gosh... ok... well," I said, considering whether to let her latch on. I began to feel guilty being suspicious and asked, "What about your suitcase, Bao? Maybe you should leave it in my hotel room." So we rode the elevator up, and Bao wheeled it in.
"Oh yes wonderful! You sweet lady. You kind to me!" she said, then kissed me on the cheek. I blushed but nobody saw it.
While we walked she gave me details about French and American involvement in Vietnam. We talked a little about communism, but she loved her country and said the government was pretty good, except for corruption by police and regulatory agencies.
"I have mixed opinion," continued Bao. "There is so much good brought by Europeans and Americans, but colonialism bad. And violence is worse. Finally Vietnam has recovered from the bombs. Economy is good."
I see most people dressed well, few beggars. There were new buildings and remodeled ones. Mostly pretty nice, but not clean.
We spent the day in the museum like old friends. As she walked in front of me I noticed her petite yet muscular frame, her shapely figure and her wonderful shiny black hair. She was about 5 inches shorter than me.
I took lots of photos of the art works with my expensive camera, 4K in case one day something gets published. But we took some selfies of us together. Even through the viewer, the camera loved her, extremely photogenic.
I started to get comfortable with her accent. She actually had a decent English vocabulary. No slouch, she was obviously bright and well-educated.
I offered to buy her lunch. She suggested a quiet restaurant nearby that had excellent food. I ordered BΓΊn Thα»t, which is marinated pork with veggies and rice...lovely. She had hot soup called Phα», even on a warm day. We split the bill.
"We are women...equal, even if we unequal. You are tall, beautiful and smart. I am the same, except short." She laughed vigorously, which dissolved my suspicions about being set-up for a shake-down. "I am feminist!" she declared, and grabbed my hand warmly.
She told me that her family was old royalty from the city of Hue in the middle of the country, once very wealthy. I interjected, "What a coincidence, I wanted to visit Hue!"
She displayed extensive knowledge about history and art, much more than I knew. She talked freely about historical parallels of art under various emperors, dynasties and Chinese invasions. When I complemented her on her abilities, Bao invited me to meet her mother. "I wonder you maybe come to my mother house and meet her. She smartest woman on planet, but she is kinda scary. She was major donor to museum until my daddy died."
"Oh, Bao. I'm so sorry you lost your father. He must have been young," I said sympathetically. But I thought you were trying to avoid your mother?"
Bao confided in me, "I am three months pregnant now and must visit her and inform her that I want to leave my country...for my baby. Maybe she believe me if I show Canadian friend, that I will really go to study in other country. So I will tell her not to worry."
So we canceled our afternoon Pagodas to meet her mother. I hoped I could find free time for them later.
The family mansion made a remarkable impression. Wow! What a house! It had 3 servants, elegant furniture, artwork and landscaping.
"Dis was colonial mansion," explained Bao. Stepping into the grand foyer, the house was silent and any footstep or minor noise was echoed in the marble halls. I had assumed Bao was impoverished, but I was totally wrong.
The servant waved us into a sitting room where her mother waited. Immediately they argued in Vietnamese for about 5 minutes before she acknowledged me. Finally her mother spoke to me in French. "
C'est un grand plaisir de vous rencontrer.
"
"Oh I'm sorry I'm not fluent in French," I stammered, embarrassed at gaps in my education.
Her mother stared at me judgmentally. "You are Canadian, yes? Why you don't speak French?" asked her mother pointedly.