A day in the countryside

Saturday 3rd 2007

Last Saturday (today is Thursday, 8.02.07) we took up our tour guide's (Ngaiem, a.k.a. Nick, 'cos his Vietnamese name is too difficult for us to pronounce) invitation to visit his family in the countryside. He had Saturday off so we arranged to go on Saturday - 3.02.07. He is only 25 but his English was as fluent as we have encountered here so far.

He met us at our hotel at 7.15am as planned and then we travelled to his parents house by taxi to catch the local bus from Hanoi to his village, which took 90 minutes of driving along a very bumpy road. The rest of the journey was a motorbike ride along a dusty track and then a short walk. We arrived at about 10.45am. Nick appeared quite excitable as we 'bumped' along, telling us that no Westerner has ever put foot in his village before (to the best of his knowledge - not an invited one anyway!). He has taken Vietnamese friends before but never a Westerner nor any tourist. We felt quite honoured especially as he told us that his
Mum was preparing a fine feast for us, and had killed two chickens that morning. Of course we felt flattered but we are realistic enough to know that this invitation came on the back of us saying over a beer, that if he ever wanted to visit England we would cheerfully help him out with contacts and accommodation. (Strong beer, eh?).

Even though it was strictly a day off for him, he went into his 'Tour Guide' mode and told us much about rural Vietnam, about the system of the provinces, villages hamlets, the workings of the commumist government, the local counncil 'elections', the importance of the extended family, the worshipping of the ancestors, the buddist altars in the homes, the personal histories of his own family and how he had to work in the rice paddie fields for 7 years and how he had to pull the leeches from his legs everyday - and much more. It may sound a tad mundane as i write but listening to him in his enthusiastic tone and seeing the miles of rural countryside as we sped by, and with the anticipation of meeting his family very soon - we absorbed it all.

We were followed by a group of giggly children down the path who were just so curious to see us rotund westerners. Leigh stopped and took a photo of them and then played it back and they dissolved into hysterical laughter, pointing and shoving to get a better view of themselves. When we arrived at his parent's we were greeted with big shy smiles and extravagent gestures to sit down. Nick explained that whilst we could shake hands with them, he could not, because that would imply that the son was equal to the father and that is not the case. The eldest is the most repected. He said also that his parents would not give us eye-contact for a while because it would be deemed discourteous to do that so soon. Anyway, we made do quite nicely with some cans of Heinken, copious tiny cups of green tea and Nick acting as interpretor. We are to call his father, 'Bo' and his Mum 'Mer' - we can manage this. Mer asks us if we have any children. They are very interested in family matters. Gradually, members of Nick's extended family come in one by one to look at us, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, a brother, a sister and happy but toothless 83 year old Grandma. Everyone asks how old we are and Mer guesses that I am 45. I like her, a lot. Soon we are in a small group of Bo, (56), and his two Uncles (61) & (71). They talked about the American war and Nick interprets. Bo has two bullets lodged in his head. One uncle has leg wounds, gunshot wounds to his back. The other has gunshot wounds to his shoulder, and shrapnel in his side. Nick says, 'No one forgets the war'. Strangely, the two uncles are wearing their military fatigues.

We venture outside and Nick shows us the cute little piglets in the pigsty, and a few surviving chickens. There is a well which they use for washing. There is a vessel to catch rainwater for drinking water. There is no toilet - you use the garden. The garden sports rows of vegetables and fruit trees of starfruit and grapefruits. They have a battery operated telly which is on throughout and the colour is turned up to full resolution. (There is no electricity). They live in only one room, for sleeping, eatting and sitting. After dinner (the chicken tasted very fresh!), we were invited to take a nap in the bed which was in the corner of the room. We declined, preferring to go for a walk instead. We walked and came to some paddy fields whereupon the stooping women straightened up and mildly bemused looked at us as if to say: 'What on earth are you doing here?'. (We were asking ourselves the same question).

With lots more smiling and vigorous friendly nods and handshakes we were making our way home.

A day in the countryside and our moment of fame gone and cloak of celebrity having derobed itself, we were once again just another tourist in our crummy hotel.