Today we were off trying to locate another battlefield site for one of our veterans. Based on old wartime maps, we drove backroads, and stopped several times for directions. In Vietnam if you want to find something bad enough you stop for directions and ask the oldest person around. It usually works and they are gracious and very willing to help.
We ended up well off the beaten track and in the middle of a village where the road goes no further. We were still looking for a large pile of boulders that marked an attack site. Consequently the majority of the group took out on a walk down a path on their search.
Gary and I stayed in the bus with the driver and another nice woman on the trip. The people of the village were sitting around on their decks/porches chatting and the kids were curious about our bus. I decided to be adventurous so I headed outside the bus with a tennis ball. Of course it was one of the ones with a smiley face designed by Gary.
One little 6 years old boy started playing catch with me but it was his 1 year old brother who fascinated me. He stood with one hand on mama and one outstretched toward me. Each time I tried to direct the ball to him and each time his older brother intercepted it. Finally mom's arm restrained the older one so the little one could take a couple halting steps and then excitedly scramble for the ball. He beamed once it was in his hand and did not want to give it back.
After playing a bit with the baby the mother picked him up and handed him to me. Then she was trying to tell me something and motioned to some money she had in her hand. My stomach turned as I was afraid she was trying to sell me her baby!!! And the villagers around were encouraging her to do it.
Later, I quizzed our guide/interpreter about it and he said she was joking. Evidently the Vietnamese joke about selling their kids to Americans so they can go to the United States and have a better life. How sad that they acknowledge so much the difference in cultures and advantages.
In this closely gathered group of Vietnamese people, the women talked to me in Vietnamese and we joked and laughed at what communication we could accomplish. They are curious about us, our size and skin. They were not shy to grab my arm and feel the extra flesh on it, compare the color of my skin to theirs, compare sizes of our hands. Suddenly one older lady was showing me her watch...K-Mart blue light special style...then she motioned to my Seiko watch. I kind of smiled and said yes, nice watch. When she stated to take off her watch I realized she wanted to trade watches. Whoa! I had to tell her NO and she must have known she was asking for too much because she did not push the issue any more. Still our group was not back yet and there was one elder lady who kept shouting something at me and pointing on up the path. When I did not respond she finally grabbed me and literally pushed me across the town square and stopped only when I was face to face with a very old man! ...I finally breathed a sigh of relief when the rest of the group arrived and "saved" me from the conversation I was trying to have with this Vietnamese gentleman.
Later, I asked our guide/translator about what happened. He explained that it is usual protocol for you to "pay respects" to the village "chief" before you interact with the people of the village. I had obviously stepped on some toes. Oops!
Since we were already interacting with the village people, the decision was made to make this one of our impromptu "Mystery Village" stops. Two of the guys went aboard the bus to retrieve bags of goodies which included shampoo & toiletries from our hotel rooms, candy, mini cars, empty water bottles, pencils, etc. Once they stepped off the bus, they were mobbed. The guys later said that was one for which they deserved "combat pay."
As we departed the village and headed down the narrow back roads we had a chance encounter with a low hanging power line. It scraped along the top and side of the bus and then snapped with a real twang. We proceeded down the back lane like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar...What me?
About a mile or two down the road we had another encounter, this time with a mad Vietnamese woman. She was blocking the road with her bicycle and stood there with her hand up in the universal language of "STOP." We did and found there was no doubt in her mind who was responsible for the power outage which evidently extended a fair distance. She demanded that we pay to have it fixed.
Before we could proceed on our adventure, we had no choice but to pay what she demanded... $6.00 US.
All of Life is An Adventure
You just have to be willing to pay the price!
Linda
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