The tea it started with. |
It started with tea.
No, it started with
rain.
It started with rain
and ended with dinner.
No Grab driver would
accept my ride request, I suspect because of what was about to
happen. I began walking down from the beautiful grounds of the
King Palace Din 1 Da Lat and felt a few wayward raindrops on my hand.
Further down the winding hill, the rain intensified. It spattered the
longs sleeved shirt I’d put on in anticipation of the early evening
ride to dinner, which in Dalat, promises a chill.
Two hundred meters
later and the sky opened up. I scanned the street for shelter and my
gaze landed on a storefront hosting a few motorbikes and an older man
standing in the open doorway. I smiled sheepishly as I approached and
he nodded his head, no smile but no furrowed brow. Two men sitting at
a table just inside smiled vaguely in my direction and went back to
smoking their cigarettes and drinking whatever brown liquid was in
the clear bottle on the table.
A few seconds passed
and the man at the door gestured me inside and pulled out a chair. I
sat, grateful for a resting spot while I watched, with dawning
realization that the rain would not be stopping anytime soon.
A woman appeared
with a small glass of warm tea which I drank thankfully. My glass was
refilled and people began to ask me questions: where are you from?
How long have you been here? Do you like Vietnam?
Coincidences
arose...the family so graciously hosting me was headed to Californian
tomorrow. More than that, they were having a party to celebrate their
travels. Lam, the man who had been standing at the door, held up the
translation “Please stay for dinner,” on his phone.
So I stayed.
Never mind there was
little shared language between us, this was a party and I was now a
guest. People began to arrive and I followed everyone into a room.
There was food laid out for at least 20 people. Rows of stools
corresponded with sets of chopsticks and bowls. In the middle of the
table were heaps of herbs, peanut dipping sauce, pork, and all the
fixings for a type of spring roll you roll yourself – dropping in
herb and vegetables and noodles and pork and something crunchy that I
don’t know what it is but adds so much satisfaction when you bit
into your roll.
I ate. People
encouraged me whenever I slowed down. The homemade rice wine came
out. My glass was filled and filled and filled no matter my
protestations. I was full. And thankful.
I dropped in some
noodles and began to much away. More than anything, I loved the small
rice paddy crabs, slightly larger than doughnut holes, stuffed with
pork.
More drink, a new
bottle emerged, stronger than the first batch, and everyone laughed
at my response.
Then came fruit.
Ice-cream. Chocolate.
As the group began
to thin, someone insisted that “uncle” give me a ride back to my
hotel. And just like that I was on the back of his bike riding
through the cool night air.
Homemade lunch. |
It is a specific
kind of generosity. One I am often gifted with when I travel. Like
the woman working at my hotel who took time out of her day and money
out of her pocket to cook lunch for me. She seemed genuinely excited
to share this experience with me and I felt honored. Or the parents
of a friend’s friend who spent three days showing me the wonders of
Kuala Lumpur and even saw me off the morning of my departure. They
continue to check in on me- on my travels. The kindness overflows.
In moments like
these I am lost. The Southern in me (and apparently something innate
in humans) makes me want to reciprocate. Back home I would have baked
something or at least brought something to drink. But out of my
cultural element, I don’t know the best way to show my
appreciation. I don’t want to monetize a sincere interaction with
someone. Neither do I want to take whatever kindness they've shared
with me for granted.
For now that leaves
me with nothing more than the sincerest appreciation for people who
open their hearts and homes to me. Appreciation for the time I have
been gifted. I hope to be able to return the gift, because it is
precious and I am forever grateful.
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