"Toi song o day", I stammered in my incomprehensible Vietnamese. (doy sum oh'o dye...sort of). "I live here," I proclaimed to the market vendor. After 28 days I had finally found some clothes pins but although the sticker thereon said they were 5,000 dong, she was asking for 10,000.
I pointed to the sticker and repeated "toi song o day," inferring that I should get the local price.
"No, no, 10,000", she repeated. I tapped on the price tag. Still she gestured, 10,000. I flipped the clothespins back into the display basket and wandered off to get my 4 eggs, one mango and two banh my (small French baguettes).
Then I realized, my god, I had been dickering over a difference of 25 cents on the price of the clothes pins. She wanted 50 cents for the dozen and I was offering a quarter. Sheepishly I went back to the basket of pins and picked up the package. The sticker had been removed. The vendor and her pal across the aisle burst out laughing and so did I. How sweet of them to help me "save face". Sometimes, my Western self, embarrasses me.
Yes, 28 days in An Bang village by the beach and we still have not got the "green light" from all of the parking lot attendants along the strip leading to the beach bistros. Bicycles are prohibited along the beach, so our enterprising neighbours have built parking sheds beside the road. With gusto, cyclists are urged to "park here please", "free parking, buy one water". Every day on our way to breakfast or to set up shop in our bistro office we try, "toi song o day". About five of the women now smile and say "Chao boui sang" or "Good Morning"...the men however still flag us frantically, and even blow whistles to intimidate us and impress us with their official capacity as self-appointed traffic wardens.
Most of the 28 days have been grey, cloudy and very cool. Walks along the beach have been few and on a few nights, I have crept into bed with all my clothes on....my Canada clothes...fleece and long pants. Sitting on the patio in the evening has been a time to wrap up.
Our presence in this village allows us to be part of all that transpires in the community; funerals, blessings of the fishing fleet and children's concerts. One evening we ventured down to the corner where the local kindergarten was having a celebration in the village square. All day, workmen laboured installing a temporary stage and huge sound system. When we arrived the music was already thunderous and the little mites from the nursery school were being ushered onto the stage. Decked out in their best interpretation of rock stars they hovered stage left until it was their turn to take stage centre. The girls seemed to have all the moves figured out, pushing the boys around.
It was cute but also disconcerting. As the music pounded, these tiny people wiggled and gyrated, the girls coy, the boys "cool" and we wondered about the messages that they were being given. Teasing, taunting, flirtatious...at four years old!
We choose more sedate celebrations with the family. Sunday brunch at a hotel which serves a wide array of Western and Asian dishes. We wander through the line and pick as many delicacies as we want, eating too much, but enjoying a peaceful time together. Here we are last Sunday with Bruce's granddaughter Keryn.
Surely the best indicators that we live here are our bike rides on the lanes of our village with the grandsons Gao and Sesame.
"Trung Toi Song Oday" We live here.
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