A Wedding and A Funeral

I've written before of an engagement party I attended in October of last year. It was in some alleyway in district 7 and I knew 2 of the Vietnamese guests and no one else when I arrived. When the beer started flowing I, not one to turn down beer and wanting to participate in the festivities, gladly partook. Big mistake. After getting a few beers and some shots of whisky under their belts some of the Vietnamese men suddenly brightened to the sporting idea of knocking back a few drinks with The Foreigner. Yes, I was The Foreigner, the only one. I'm sure that each of them simply felt that it was a friendly social gesture to make. Each and every one of them in succession. No doubt those that had not yet stepped up to the challenge were goaded and chided by their brave friends who had. It just wouldn't stop. And this was at about 11 AM on a Tuesday. And truthfully I don't really care for the beer that most Vietnamese enjoy drinking under any circumstances in any setting, especially on a weekday morning!

Last weekend I was invited by a friend whose boyfriend is back home in Germany to accompany her to her friend's wedding. Without thinking about my previous traumatic experience at the engagement party I accepted.

We went to the wedding ceremony on my little Honda Cub. I always love it when I have a passenger riding pillion (that's a word I've learned since living here) since it's a small motorbike and I'm really too big for it by myself. I once gave a ride to the Saigon Notre Dame Cathedral (Nhà Thờ Dức Bà) to a tall lanky black man who was living in the same house as myself. What a sight we must have been swaying down Nguyễn Thị Minh Khai street! Heads were definitely turning.

The wedding was at least on a Sunday afternoon and took place in a special facility built for hosting such events. There was at least one other wedding taking place in an adjoining area. Not surprisingly I was the only foreigner in attendance. I immediately noticed a large table of middle-aged men who were already working their way through a convenience store's inventory of cheap Vietnamese beer and I felt myself shudder at the sight as the memories of the engagement party came rushing back and I realised what I might be confronted with over the next few hours. Thankfully the table we were seated at included only 3 other women and 1 friendly mild-mannered man.

I didn't take too long into the ceremony for the first brave volunteer to come shuffling over to the table with his glass of ice and beer. Of course he didn't speak a word of English but that wasn't going to deter him in the least when he wanted to show all his buds who were watching from his table that he had what it took to drink a beer with The Foreigner. He wasn't too pushy or rude about it and I simply shook my head and he departed. 'Wow, that was easy', I thought to myself.

I had made up my mind at that point that I wasn't going to drink any beer, whiskey, or anything alcoholic on offer because I knew that as soon as I did the line would start forming. As I've mentioned before I have no illusions about why Vietnamese men want to have a drink with me. It has absolutely nothing to do with anything other than me being The Foreigner. No thanks. A special object is still just an object and I now have enough real friends (just 1 is enough!) here that I no longer need to play that game.

As the wedding proceeded 2 more beer-swilling soldiers made their way over and attempted to coerce me into imbibing with them and I politely let them know I wasn't interested. The 3rd attemptee tried the hover tactic. He just stood there with his glass of beer in his hand after I'd told him I wasn't interested in drinking thinking that if he stood there long enough I'd give in or change my mind. I've perfected the tactic of ignoring people since living here, something that at first really went against my nature and experiences, but after a while you learn that if you don't do it you'll just be exploited and in the end it saves your time and theirs.

The 4th and final partier was the most obnoxious because he already had some beer sloshing around in his belly and likely knew that no one had yet succeeded with The Foreigner. He put his foul mouth right next to my ear and started yelling Vietnamese and pointing at his glass of beer. In order to put an end to his annoying entreaties, I finally resorted to uttering perhaps the biggest lie that has ever passed over my lips. I turned to him and spat out "Tôi không thích bia".  He nodded and began to walk away as I waited for the bolt of lightning to crash through the ceiling and smite me dead but perhaps the heavens had taken mercy on me and were granting leniency that day.

We departed the ceremony soon after. The weddings around Saigon these days are often short affairs. I don't think we were there even 2 hours. As is often the case here the newlyweds had no formal honeymoon plans. I assume it was back to the usual work grind for them the next day.

I departed the room with my head held high and a bit of a smirk on my face. As I was walking out the door a guest who unlike myself had knocked back a few, embraced me and and kissed me on the cheek and told me in English 'I love you'. And it was a man! Ah, the perils of 333. 333 (ba ba ba) is one of the popular local beers. 2 cans of 333 is 666, right? Coincidence?

Another friend of mine who sometimes helps me with Vietnamese called me to tell me she was very upset because she'd just found out that one of her English teachers had died unexpectedly in his apartment in Saigon. He had had some health problems related to some kind of accident but his death was a shock. He was an American about my age, a few years younger actually, and it struck a chord with me.

His body was to be cremated here and his ashes sent home but there was to be a memorial ceremony held before the cremation at the hospital where his body was being held. I decided I would accompany my friend to the ceremony out of concern for her but also because I felt some connection to this man I'd never met.
My friend was concerned that he had died without many friends in Vietnam and wanted to be there for spiritual support for his memory. Buddhists can be the most incredibly kind and caring people.

Funerals are known for bringing people together who were part of the decedent's life who might have never met or even known of each other and it happened at this one. His memorial was well-attended by people, many of whom had never met before. My friend didn't even know about his Vietnamese girlfriend who was there and who was clearly distraught. He had also done some volunteer work for a charity and the charity director along with some other staff were in attendance and I met and talked with them about the work they were doing. It's difficult to find charitable groups that you feel are honest and dedicated to their cause, but I was left with a good feeling about this one.

In the end, I made a few new acquaintances and learned about the people behind a charity that helps Vietnamese children born with physical disabilities. I made a monetary donation and may do more, including helping out as a volunteer, in the future. My friend was left feeling better knowing that he hadn't been as isolated and alone as she'd feared. So many positives resulted from his memorial and I can't help but thinking that he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. RIP.

The newlyweds and their party pose on the stage. There was lots of sparks, lights, music even though I was told the ceremony would be 'traditional'.

Some of the revelers take over the stage for a little impromptu singing after the ceremony.

Buddhist shrines are ubiquitous in Vietnamese homes and businesses. Incense, photos, flowers, fruit are all common offerings along with the occasional cigarettes and whiskey. This one is in the house I'm currently living in and the fruit ends up on the kitchen table after Buddha is given his due right of first refusal.