Hung

The Scene:

Mike in a bar with two complete strangers repeating the same sentences over and over again as slowly as possible without a hint of understanding in Mike's eyes while they all drink beer and eat dried squid jerky.

The leadup:

Day one of motorcycle ownership I did indeed head to the My Son ruins, which reminded me that I was pretty utterly bored when dragged to ruins in the Yucatan when I was younger. They're just really old buildings, after all. In their defense, they are somewhat more interesting now that I've "matured" a bit, but not much.

Hung out some more in Hoi An, and decided I really do like the city, despite it's obsession with shopping, tailors, and the overwhelming abundance of foreigners.

Next day, decided to head out on Leg 1 of the trip to Saigon. Therein, I decide to head off of the tourist path and into the central highlands. After all, this is why I bought the bike. The drive is fantastic, but when I arrive at the town of Kon Tum, the most interesting thing around are the Rung houses, which are really just straw houses with tall roofs. So that gets old after about four seconds.

Moreover, the "sleepy mountain town" that the book describes is nowhere to be found. This town is neither sleepy nor mountainous. It's a mountain town only inasmuch as Denver is a mountain town.

Fairly disappointed with my locale, I head to the bland market area that looks like every other market area in the third world and grap some grub (which is fantastic). Man sits down, talks a bit. Completely fascinated with me and what the hell I'm doing in his town. Without much conversation, he gives me a shot of rice booze (which I found out is xeo, with the x pronounced as a mix between r and z here in the south) and invites me back to his house. So I go there - clear across town - on the back of his bicycle. There, I meet his family - wife and three kids.

He (Hung) immediately changes into nice clothes, no doubt on my account. And proceeds to talk to me in very slow sentences. If I were an exchange student, this man would be my ideal host father, I'm telling you.

Then Hung insists that I sleep at his house, and shows me the bed that I can share with his son, while he'll share the other bed with wife and other two children. I consider how absolutely sketchy this whole deal is, but decide that maybe it's a good idea to stay anyway. Except that I need to tell the hotel people that I'm not coming back - otherwise they'll probably freak out that I'm dead while they stay up all night to keep the front door open for me.

Don't have the phone number, so we grab the neighbor, who apparently has two motorbikes (and a much more furnished, nicer house) and head out to the hotel. When the guys won't come to the front with me, but rather sit a few meters to the side out of view of the clerk, I do decide this is too sketchy and tell them maybe I'd ought to stay at the hotel after all.

Okay, they say. Fine. But let's go get a drink first. Somehow this proposition seems less risky to me, which it obviously is not, so I hop on the back of the motorbike again, and we go to the bar.

See above scene. The second guy even bought the beer and jerky. (and while we're on the subject, squid jerky is actually much, much better than you'd think).

So next day I wander Kon Tum in the morning and see all it has to offer in about an hour. Now it's time to go find Hung's house, because he said he'd bring my raincoat back to the hotel at 7:30, and I didn't see him there nor did the hotel have it. I plan on finding his house, running in and leaving town as quickly as possible. Somehow I manage to get back to the house after randomly running into his wife in the street.

He's not there, but sure enough shows up in 5 minutes with my jacket on his bike. Again we sit and talk - slowly.

Then he shows me pictures of his wedding, and all of the 13 kids in the room look over my shoulder as I flip through them. I give him a picture of me, and he gives me one of him - at which point my suspicions are confirmed that he can't read or write as he has one of the kids write his name on the back.

On to the neighbor's house, where a third guy enters. This is the only guy who brings up money the whole time - an issue I was very afraid would come up. But even now, he says I should help Hung, because Hung doesn't have any money - he doesn't ask for it himself. And I say I don't have any either and we laugh and it's overwith.

Then back to Hung's house, where we have rice and dried fish stuff for lunch, and where Hung tells me the other guys have a lot more money than him.

And I'm off - to Buon Ma Thuot on Bill, as I've named the bike. (I tried to give it an Asian name, or something with some significance, but Bill just wouldn't leave. So Bill it is.)