Two days with a Vietnamese family

Going on a weekend trip with the parents of one of my three year old children seemed a bit weird in the beginning, but turned out to be an incredible experience. I was treated with kindness and generosity from the whole family. It was a weekend I will never forget and has touched me deeply.

After the two hour drive north of Hanoi I was invited to lunch with the family. The dad wanted to share many shots of his homemade wine, which was actually vodka. I now realize that this kind of drinking is not good in the afternoon when you need to have your wits about you. All the food was good, just a bit uncomfortable in a setting where I cannot speak the language and I get those random stares.

I was put up in a hotel around the corner from the family home. It was nice to have my space and to have a place to rest and shower. This was my first truly Vietnamese hotel experience. The comfort is not of Western standards, but one must be reminded that they are in a small town in a very foreign country. I was honored to have this space.

For dinner that night I was not sure if I should be in pants and a shirt, which would be respectful to the family, yet be uncomfortable due to the heat and humidity. (No air conditioning…only fans) The whole family was in shorts and t-shirts of course and I felt as if I was in a bunny suit. Dinner was good and with more of dad’s vodka. I had to limit myself. After dinner I sat uncomfortably with dad and uncle with Vietnamese T.V. and tea with nothing to say because…well….I don’t speak Vietnamese. These moments help you to focus heavily on everything else and dig deep for that sense of humor.

The day was finished with eating snails at a street restaurant complete with local figs, pineapple and X-acto blades to extract the little critters out of their shells. Frankly, I do not understand why people put so much effort into getting so little food. It felt as if I had to eat one peanut at a time with a baby tong while doing a back flip. I don’t get it. Perhaps for a chocolate truffle…perhaps.

I was up at 6am Sunday morning, per family request, to meet at the house to have one of my favorite lunches, but for breakfast, called Bun Cha. Breakfast was followed by the strongest coffee I have ever consumed and that says a lot considering I have had some damn strong coffee. Basically, it took an hour to drink.

The afternoon was by far the highlight of the weekend in terms of the bizarre and surreal aspects. The family was having a celebratory party and I was invited. The men and woman were separated. It was a table of 12 Vietnamese men and ME. The table was packed with plates of food and then the whisky started flowing….heavily. The majority of the two hour lunch was shot after shot after shot of whisky. It became a dare and an insistence to drink. It was all about toasting and there was a lot to toast. I stepped up to the plate and did what I had to do…drink like a Vietnamese (and after all I am Irish). I did not want to, I had to. I will admit the whole experience had its elements of uncomfortable, yet knew this was a cultural highlight that I could not run away from. There was a moment when I said to myself…”What the hell is a gay man doing in this place?” I was constantly asked…”What do you think of the Vietnamese women?....Where is your wife?....What does your wife do?....Are you married? How old are you? Do you like Vietnam?....ugh. Just give me another shot please.

Though these moments can be frustrating and strange, I am aware of how special it all is and what a great opportunity I have been presented. Besides, what incredible stories I have been given to tell you all and the world!