Had a chance to spend a Saturday with Trang last weekend. I rolled up to the house where she rents a room - and this is what she wore as the bounded out of the house.
After buying her a new helmet and jacket the next, we were off to the rolling hills north of Houston where we took a break in the area around the courthouse of Anderson.
It was a nice leisurely trip by motorbike from my hotel in Huế to the small village where Trang’s parents live. The 15 kilometer (about 9.5 miles) ride takes about 20 minutes putting along at a comfortable 40-50 kilometers per hour.
Trang has a younger sister named Ha, who is in her final year of high school. Her English is quite good (she tells me that she is the best in her class) so the translating chores fall on her young shoulders.
Trang has been gone from home for three years now. I have visited her family enough times so that we are all relaxed with each other and don’t feel uncomfortable at our inability to use each other’s language. As I pulled into the courtyard of the family home, Loi (Trang’s father) met me with outstretched hands and a huge smile. Ha parked the motorbike while I kicked off my sandals and joined everyone on the front porch for a cool drink and conversation.
(Be sure to click on the photos to see a larger version of each.)
Then a tour of the house to see that some things have been added since the last time I was there – another room in the back of the house where Ha is supposed to study. I am reminded of American farm houses that grow and ramble – and this house seems to be doing the same. I wonder if will get to be too big soon. One brother announced his impending marriage next spring and Ha is in her last year of high school. Loi and Hương could be rattling around in the house by themselves soon.
Hmm - - wonder if that television will help Ha’s studies.
And I like the little veranda entranceway – nice place to catch a cool breeze out of the sun.
But any visit calls for eating. As always, excellent food and lots of it: two different kinds of chicken, a cubed meat and bánh ướt – a kind of thin wet rice paper used to wrap around the cubed meat, then dip in the spicy dipping sauce. Yum! (It’s yummy if you are used to spicy food – if not, the sauce is pretty hot.) And, of course, a big bowl of sticky rice.
And, as always, I finally have to lay down my chop sticks even though there is still a lot of food left on the table. One explanation for them serving big meals is that the Vietnamese think that my big fat Buddha-belly is indicative of my capacity to eat more than they do, but the real explanation is simply that the Vietnamese are gracious hosts who always want to put on their best for visitors.
It would probably have made Trang blush to know most of the conversation was about her. They wanted to know what I thought of her serious boy friend and where I thought she would live once her education is completed. I told them I thought she had done very well in her choice of boyfriends, but I had no idea where Trang will earn her doctorate – and certainly don’t know where she will be when that is over.
This final photo has significance to me because of something Loi said during the meal. We were all discussing Trang’s love life when he told me that he trusted and appreciated my looking after Trang – that I was her American father. Hương shook her head in agreement. I was astounded!
They were saying I was their daughter's American father!
Maybe that’s why he has insisted on having a photo taken together a number of times – we are the two fathers of a remarkable young woman.
And I am deeply humbled to be given that status by two people who have done an incredible job raising their oldest child. I pray I am worthy of their trust and kindness.
Thanksgiving is an old fashioned American holiday.
Except at our house.
When the food was all on the table and all the glasses filled, Thanksgiving toasts were spoken in four different languages: Japanese, Slovenian, Vietnamese and English.
Trang and Thanh came over the night before, then pitched in to help Cindy with the food preparation Thanksgiving morning. One of Trang’s jobs was to stuff Tom the Turkey. By the way - turkeys are unknown in Viet Nam except in expatriot stores in Saigon or Hanoi. On the rare occasion they might see one, the Vietnamese refer to them as “western chicken.”
And Thanh really wanted to mash the potatoes. She needed a little help from a small stool to be able to get good leverage, but she did a great job.
(As always, click on each photo - you'll see a larger version that way.)
By mid-afternoon, the house smelled of roast turkey, pumpkin pie, stuffing from the bird and other yummies. It was also time for Aya, from Japan, and Petra and her husband Arne from Slovenia. Cindy’s mother and brother were already here, so we jammed nine people around the table. Aya and Thanh are in the same year of graduate school while Trang and Petra have both completed their studies and are teaching. Arne has finished his course work and now writing his dissertation for his doctorate. The only thing better than the food was the conversation.
Back in the 70’s, Crosby, Stills and Nash sang a song that included the line “And if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.” They meant that in a slightly different context, of course, but many of the folks around the table were away from the people they love - families in Japan, Viet Nam and Slovenia - yet we were able to share a little love with all of them.
But then, of course, after all that eating and talking came the time to clean up.
Congratulations, Trang. You have accomplished what you set out to do. Now it will be fun to watch you pursue other challenges. You are quite a woman - thank you for being in our lives.
And she cooks - I mean she cooks!
(Click on the photos to see larger versions.)
Tết is the Lunar New Year. Think of it as Christmas, your birthday, the 4th of July, and Thanksgiving all bundled together. Families get together, go to the home village, tidy up the house, venerate their ancestors, visit friends, party – and eat.
For one evening, I was transported back to Việt Nam but I was actually in San Antonio, a place more often associated with cowboys, Mexican food, and the Spurs. There is a small pagoda in the city, supported by the relatively small Vietnamese population. It was the perfect place to gather – have a party – pray for your ancestors – sing the old songs – and enjoy fireworks. (Interestingly, the only forms of fireworks now permitted in Việt Nam today are displays put on by city or village government. Families are no longer permitted to set off fireworks – too many people getting hurt every year.)
Trang and I made the four hour drive from deep south Texas to San Antonio where we joined Tuan. Along with some of the other Vietnamese students at the University of Texas – San Antonio, he was to do the lion dance. I suppose it’s not really a dance, and the lion could easily be mistaken for a dragon, but the two men inside are extremely vigorous. Accompanied by drums and gongs, onlookers (often children) write out a
wish for the new year, add a small bit of cash, put it all in a red envelope and “feed it” to the lion. Much fun – much laughter – much tradition. Tuan was pretty whooped after the first dance and needed a little recuperation before dancing a second time.
Of course, there was entertainment. A Vietnamese pop singer from southern California was there – not only was she easy on the eyes, but had a gorgeous voice. The band was a group of locals, most of them about my age or only a little younger. When they played “Black Magic Woman”, I wondered if they had played for an American audience a long time ago.
Then the cacophonous end of the evening. Firecrackers – big ones – huge strings of them, suspended from a high wire – and guaranteed to scare little kids and evil spirits. The two lions danced, the people whooped and hollered – and I kept brushing little pieces of burnt firecracker paper out of my hair.
The only way I could have had a better time would be that I had spent it in Việt Nam.
One of the highlights of the Christmas trip to Colorado was to take Tuan and Trang skiing. They had seen their first snow only a few days before - then we drove into the mountains to Copper Mountain.
Yeah - it was cold. I am a firm believer that taking skiing lessons is the only way to go. Lift tickets, lessons, and equipment were all included. But they made it through the process of trying on stiff heavy boots they had never worn before, then waited for the five hour lesson to begin.
If anyone can make it through the first two hours of ski school, then they will enjoy skiing. Watching the two of them, I remembered the first-day strange feeling of sliding down a hill on boards strapped to your feet - and I remembered the labor of walking sideways up the little hill. Everything feels so weird during the first few hours of skiing.
Of course there was a little bit of friendly competition. Trang let me know that she didn't fall - at least at first. Being the daring young man he is, Tuan pushed the limits a little more with predictable consequences. I thought he was quite graceful when he fell.
But the reward for those goofy first two hours was being able to get on a ski lift and ski down a nice trail on their own.
What fun - and it was mine to watch and enjoy.
It was worth visiting Red Rocks, the huge outdoor amphitheater in the foothills. It was a bit chilly that day, but the place offers spectacular vistas and a different geology than
either of the Vietnamese had seen before. Built during the depression, it hosts many concerts throughout the year. I love how the place was kept "interesting" rather than just bulldozing everything down and build something from man-made materials. It really is a very kewl place. It kept Tuan busy with his camera and Trang busy posing.
Tuan's birthday was actually a few days prior, but it was still a good opportunity for baking cakes. Though the Vietnamese don't have the sweet tooth we Americans have, we enjoyed the cake. At age 26, he is just finishing up the first semester of his doctoral studies in environmental science. I glanced at some papers next to his laptop - - and didn't even understand what the paper was about much less the directions given for working on the project.
Thanh had a chance to relax - and learn a bit more about American cooking. The MGB put her to work making Tuan's birthday cake. For both Tuan and Thanh, this is their first year of seeing the American culture close-up. It was also a chance for the MGB and me to pull them into the fold of being in a family. Having been through the experience of learning how to live in a very different culture, the MGB and I want to provide these three a place of shelter - of refreshment - of love - of a family away from home.
But, not all was turkey and birthday cake. We live in a citrus area. Nearby is an orchard that lets folks pick their own fruit. I haven't quite figured out why three graduate students want to work as field hands, but they had a lot of fun - and let me tag along to take a photo or two.
No way I was going to pick fruit - I have too much dignity to protect!
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