Well Hello

This morning I emerged from the shower into the one main room of our little house to dry off and dress. There, standing right on our deck, was a strange man. "Oops," I yelped. "Could you see what that man wants please, Bruce?" His head was down at the computer keyboard, so busily writing away at his new novel that he had not noticed our visitor.

"Xin chao," greeted Bruce. "Hello, hello".

"Xin chao," said the man, helping himself to a chair, puffing away on a cigarette. He seemed very unperturbed that there was a very nervous, fat, white woman in a black brassiere and little else scurrying for cover five feet away.

As I quickly dressed our unexpected visitor sat nonchalantly smoking while gazing out at our garden.

By the time that I was decent enough to go out to investigate Mr. Somebody had wandered back through a break in the hedge to the house next door. He must have assumed that the whole neighbourhood was invited to the ancestor worship that was going on or perhaps our chairs simply looked more comfortable.

The patriarch of the family next door died one year ago and, following tradition, there will celebrations and worship for his soul for another year. His widow is an amazing 98 years old and because her son is our landlord, she comes over every morning to tend our lawn. I am in awe of her agility and a little ashamed that I am often scanning the Net whilst she labours.

The other day walking through the lane beside the Reaching Out Tea House on our way to the craft shop I heard a little voice, "Hello, Hello".  Looking down, I saw the sweetest small boy waving vigorously. I waved and returned his "hello", took his hand and off we strolled. No shyness, no worries. My fantasy of taking home a Vietnamese child was taking shape! Out came Bruce's camera but the boy's father appeared out of nowhere, also with a camera in hand.

"Hello, hello, you want tau hu?" You bet we did! This delicious tofu and ginger treat is peddled on the streets and at the beach. The vendor carries all of her supplies, the fresh tofu, the sugary sauce and the ginger, the bowls and spoons for serving, in baskets on her shoulder poles. She serves the tau hu and then waits discreetly nearby while we slurp it down.

Hiep, her husband and daughter Su My stood on our doorstep. "Hello, Hello. We come to invite you to our house. I will cook cau lau. You come at 7 am for breakfast...7 am western time....that mean on time...Vietnamese 7 am is mebbe 8 o'clock."

Cao Lau (cow and low as in "cow") is a Hoi An specialty. The noodles are thick and the broth is made with water from wells known for their purity.

We knew that this was an honour and off we went the next morning....arriving "just a little bit late". While Su My still slept under a netting at my elbow, we were served the soup in the traditional way. As both Bruce and I rolled over and groaned to a standing position, Hiep said, "Sorry, I know that it is hard for you to sit like Vietnamese, but I wanted you to do it...part of being Vietnamese and enjoying our meals."

The grimace on Bruce's face shows how much he loved sitting on the floor!!!

"Hello, Ong, Ba you there? Are you ready for your Vietnamese lesson?" Grandson Sesame hollers over the fence after school each day to see if we are up for the challenge of improving our Vietnamese vocabulary. Sesame is a patient and encouraging teacher and is able to help us get our tongues around the difficult sounds.

So many "Hello's". Even toddlers who are speaking their first words offer a "heh yo" as we ride by on our bicycles through the village. A welcoming and warm people these Vietnamese.