-^-for posterity-^-

friendly people are incredibly wonderful. they make you feel warm inside. i always seem to trust them instantly and smile a lot.

tonight i went out with a man named phan quoc huy. he works at the yokohama tire dealership which is located about 20 meters from my apartment. i walk by the place every day. at first i just noticed the large red sign. then, i started looking in the shop as i passed it. i always noticed two young people standing aimlessly behind the counter. they looked to be about 30. one day i waved to them. they started waving back. we had a wonderful wave and smile relationship.

at the beginning of this week i bought a paper from the vendor across the street. when i was walking back, phan quoc huy was there, outside his shop, to greet me. he offered me tea and invited me in. i was flattered. i met him and his assistant and we exchanged phone numbers. his assistant is quiet. she smiles crookedly and has bright eyes. she throws in japanese words even though she’s vietnamese. i guess she thinks i know japanese. i just smile. he is tall but shorter than me. his face is well proportioned and he cocks his head to one side when he talks. his hair is cut short and spiked up all over and his teeth all seem to be heading in different directions. tonight he took me out to eat.

he called me at 7:00 and said he had just gotten off of work. we could go now. i walked down to the yokohama tire dealership and hoped on his motorbike. everything was dark and everyone was smiling. i sat snugly against him on the motorcycle. all forms of homophobia have to be thrown out the window. the insides of my legs touched the sides of his hips. i had to press my head against his to hear what he was saying. when we would take a violent turn, i would have to grab onto his stomach. the position would only be uncomfortable if i let it be.

the wind blew my hair everywhere. we drove for maybe 20 minutes and talked. he speaks wonderful english but wanted to practice. the streets are all full of people eating and selling things. small stores are everywhere and everyone seems to be employed by themselves. the fluorescent lights from the shops took the place of overhead street lamps.

we arrived at some small place where we were going to eat. it had a high roof and the walls were a pleasant light blue. we sat down at a table that was very small. it wasn’t more than a foot and a half off the ground. we sat on small plastic seats. they were blue and green and looked like foot rests. they had no back and were only six inches off of the ground. ones legs end up being higher than the table and one ends up eating in the fetal position. he ordered.

the food came and it was spring rolls and squid soup. the place specialized in squid. we talked about many things and i didn’t want to talk to him in vietnamese. i wanted to talk about culture and philosophy. he didn’t care. he wanted to practice english.

“how many hours a week do you work at the tire dealership? i see that you are there all the time.” my words were clear and pronounced. “oh, 80 hours every week. we work very long in vietnam.” wow. 80 hour weeks every week at the yokohama tire dealership. “and we normally take night classes to learn languages. vietnamese people want to learn many things!” he was smiling. i guess ms. ha’s story wasn’t as unique as i thought. we talked about the war. he said that vietnam had seen many terrible things and that his was the first generation to really experience peace. he didn’t want to talk about it and i felt like a tourist for bringing it up. surely i had known that we were well beyond war.

we talked about girlfriends and mothers. he wondered if my family worried about me. i said i thought they did. he thought that his mother wouldn’t let him go so far away for such a long time. she would worry too much. he said that we were part of our parents and that we could not deny that.

i asked him what he thought about the chairs. i said that i really liked to sit like this to eat but he didn’t believe me. i didn’t believe myself either so i made up some reason. i said it had something to do with feeling more alive. more real. i don’t think he understood me and acted like he did. phew. he said that he didn’t like sitting on, what he called, “high chairs” because you couldn’t laugh. he said it was because when you sit on high chairs you are in a big restaurant and that no one laughs there. one time he was in a big restaurant with his boss and someone told a joke but no one could laugh. here, everyone was laughing he said. he started to laugh just because he could.

well, i guess my reason wasn’t too far off. just being alive, feeling more real. eating close to the earth. feeling like you’re camping. he said that we think alike. we both like to eat close to the ground. he thought maybe it was because we were both young.

wonderful. me and phan quoc huy both enjoyed sitting close to the ground because we were both young. i wasn’t american and he wasn’t vietnamese. we were both young enough to understand that it was special even though we really didn’t understand each other.

i’m going to go out with him again. this time his assistant will come too. she had a japanese class tonight.

as he was taking me home he said, “oh, it is 9:00 and very late. i must get to bed to wake up early tomorrow.” he took the only two hours he had free tonight to spend with me. i’m honored.