-^-for posterity-^-

tonight i took the people at the yokohama tire dealership out for supper. i wanted to thank them for teaching me so much about he culture and the language. me, ms. uyet, ms. loan and mr. quy all piled on motorcycles and were off.

i took them to a nice western restaurant. they had taken me to so many vietnamese places that i kind of felt obligated. we sat down and flipped through the menu.

they were not in their league here. everything was drastically different and i noticed a few panicked glances early on. it seemed strange for them to be so far out of their comfort zone. we were still in saigon, just in a western restaurant. they had never really eaten western food. well, mr. quy confessed to eating a hamburger once.

ms. uyet took over and ordered for all of us. it was very vietnamese. she ordered four random dishes: lasagna, some sort of pasta, some bowl full of meatballs and a pizza. the plates all came and were placed on the table; one for each person. i was given the meatball dish. the plates were pushed into the center of the table and ms. uyet requested four small bowls. she wanted all of us to share each dish. she split each dish into four equal sections and handed them out. in vietnam, it’s fairly routine to share dishes but in this restaurant it was quite out of the ordinary. our table was full of four highly decorated plates and we were all eating out of small bowls pretending it was normal. i was fascinated and didn’t want to interrupt and say, “no, when you eat western food you must select only one dish and stick with that.” it was kind of refreshing to try so many foods.

ms. loan doesn’t like to appear too greedy. she took her time eating her first course and only got through two small bowls full of food. she is very timid and quiet and there were moments when i forgot she was there. ms. uyet makes jokes and laughs loudly. she liked all the food. mr. quy was still suffering through his toothache and didn’t like all the food. he liked the lasagna though.

i had to explain all of the dishes even though i didn’t understand the meatball dish. where did pasta come from? i explained that lasagna came from italy but that the concept of noodles and pasta came from china. that’s at least how i remembered it. they were fascinated. you mean this came from china? ugh.

our table was full of dishes and plates and ms. uyet dropped her knife twice and blushed crimson. it was wonderful having everyone there. they talked about when we met and how much fun we’ve had together. they truly like me. they are all very sincere people except for maybe ms. loan. she seems to be afraid of something. she told me once she thought she had bad skin. what did i think?

we left and were all sad. i’ll see them again next week but i’ll be moving down to long xuyen and they don’t want to see me go. i hoped on the motorbike with mr. quy. ms. loan was standing next to us and started to cry a bit. what an incredible rush of emotions. mr. quy’s eyes flushed red and ms. uyet stood on the curb looking sympathetic. they had all come to really appreciate me. i felt like i was at my eulogy though. they kept saying that it won’t be the same without me and that it is hard to see me go. ms. loan didn’t say anything. she stood by the road with her thin arms crossed across her stomach. she looked at me with glazed, red eyes. i could only feel compassion.

they truly are beautiful people. i wish i had the opportunity to introduce all of them to you.

mr. quy drove me home and told me how much he would miss me. i was his first foreign friend. maybe it was the exhaust from the other motorbikes pouring down the road but my eyes kind of welled up too.