Hanoi Boys Social Club
It was a Monday night and I was unexpectedly invited out to dinner, which I would normally pass on simply due to being tired and wanting to be in the studio to paint. Well, this was not your average invitation and I had no idea of what kind of an experience was ahead. It is not often that you get the opportunity to step into a foreign world within a foreign world and taste all that is to be offered without running in fear.
I was picked up at my home in the first car in Vietnam that was not a taxi or a bus. In fact it was quite a nice white Mercedes. The invitation to dinner was by a young man named Dum (pronounced Zoom). Dum introduced himself as ‘D’ concerned, as that I could not say his real name. Mr. D was the father of a 14 month old boy named Choco that I had for a few weeks in my Kindergarten class and had to tell ‘mom and dad’ that this was not a good situation. The father, Dum, agreed with me to my surprise and asked me if I wanted to join him for dinner one night. As a gay man, this was slightly odd to me, but understood enough of Vietnamese culture that even teaching your child for a few weeks gave you a level of status, but I had no idea I would be given such incredible insight into young, rich, ambitious Vietnamese male life.
Dum, his friend and I, drove a short distance and met up with five other friends. It was a boys’ night out and I suddenly became aware that I needed to adjust my demeanor, increase my testosterone levels and be prepared for anything. We walked to a restaurant owned by one of Dum’s friends. This restaurant was a fish restaurant that only served one kind of fish and all courses were made with this one fish. The atmosphere was revamped French Colonial. The main room we sat in was with very high ceilings, a prominent chandelier as if it was for elegant dining, yet the crowd was distinctively all the same…. male, at approximately the same age (28ish) and of some level of success. I have never been into this secret Hanoi Boys Club and I soon found out that Mr. D was not only the leader of the clan, but was in fact a playboy. Now, it is hard to say if they are using the word ‘Playboy’ in the right context, but it is my understanding that married Vietnamese often enjoy the pleasures of other women and be able to let there guard down and be ‘boys with money’.
I have not had previous experience in knowing how to behave in this scenario so I had to wing it the whole time. I was pleasantly surprised at how conversational I was and though a bit uncomfortable and out of place, I put in my best effort. I was able to converse with a few of the gents and got some good insight. I later found out in the evening that my tattoos and mustache assisted in my invitation. This was indeed a special position and I must admit that I was feeling like a bit of a trophy and not sure how I felt about that. Vietnam is a surreal and bizarre place and you never know if you are reading a situation correctly.
The food presented was incredible and quite a feast. All served family style and most of it exceptional. I have learned over the years when and when not to ask what you are eating in a foreign land. I had no issues with the many fish pieces and parts until we got to the fish skin dish. I cleverly swallowed without chewing and raved about everything. Thank goodness for copious amounts of beer to wash things down.
I truly enjoyed my night and felt very fortunate to have had the experience I did. I felt welcome and special. I realized that it was necessary to announce that I would need to leave soon and apologized. My cultural meter was full and my gut instinct told me that if I did not part ways soon then the intoxication and intensity of the situation would have been more than I could handle. I was by myself, in a strange place with only Vietnamese men getting fairly drunk and in a Communist country. I thought to myself this is a great time to leave when the going is good and on a high note. I made a point of saying goodbye and thanking everyone at the table. I also made a special thank you to the two owners who seemed especially pleased by my presence. I had this bizarre vision of being in a black and white photo shaking hands with the owners on a wall of fame in the restaurant and it started to feel creepy.
As I left the restaurant, all I could think about was what an incredible, bizarre and rare experience I just had and how much I wanted to tell Michael or anyone so that I knew it actually happened. These are moments that you realize that you need to provide this story as a script for a movie or minimally set aside an entire chapter in your memoirs or autobiography. For me it simply needs to be told. It is moments like this that only happens when you are open to adventure. I only wish I had photos to show you, but it would be impossible to truly grasp the experience. The one photo you see is an actual photo and they were not happy about me taking it. Enjoy!
