As You Liked It...
In honor of the newly reinstated Writer's Club, and especially Chris, who actually "gushed" after I read it:
I have learned that even after a year, I can still stand out as a foreigner to keen peddling eyes that immediately mark up the price, any price, by 50%. If they only mark up by 25%, I give myself a pat on the back.
I have also acquired into instinct the most powerful local signal – a low open-palmed twist of the hand, shaking back and forth signifying “No thank you, please leave me alone,” which is light years more effective than the “I’m saying no, but maybe I can be persuaded by your tattered clothes and pleading eyes” shake of the head; when raised to eye level, it is more versatile than the “I don’t know” shoulder shrug. This shaking hand gesture was ingenious.
Upon hosting a game night for some expat friends, we had run out of mixers. Feeling the hostess-fever, I collected some money and went out to seek provisionary treasures. As I went to a store managed by an old man with few words (very rare for a Vietnamese vendor), I walked into the place the way people do when they grown familiar with their surroundings. I found my fortune, a big bottle of coke, and stood on the edge of the entranceway to pay the man. Not even two seconds went by when two motorbikes carrying passengers flanked me on both sides.
To my right was a woman asking, in Vietnamese, whether I had shampoo and soap (hah! I was getting better with the language by then), while to my left was a man and his friend who asked, “Do you have [insert quickly-spoken incoherent Vietnamese product here]?” Okay, so not as good, but to be fair, they both spoke at the same time. I immediately looked at the old man for…something. I wasn’t even sure: answers, advice, clarification?
Help?
The next thing I did was look down. I was wearing my college-aged Gap jeans and my “Scream Queen” shirt, which could have looked local except that everything was spelled correctly and grammatically made sense. So, I did the only thing left to do - I shook my hand, paid for my coke, and trekked home, contemplating the mysterious incident.
I guess I fit in better than I thought. It kinda sucks.
I have learned that even after a year, I can still stand out as a foreigner to keen peddling eyes that immediately mark up the price, any price, by 50%. If they only mark up by 25%, I give myself a pat on the back.
I have also acquired into instinct the most powerful local signal – a low open-palmed twist of the hand, shaking back and forth signifying “No thank you, please leave me alone,” which is light years more effective than the “I’m saying no, but maybe I can be persuaded by your tattered clothes and pleading eyes” shake of the head; when raised to eye level, it is more versatile than the “I don’t know” shoulder shrug. This shaking hand gesture was ingenious.
Upon hosting a game night for some expat friends, we had run out of mixers. Feeling the hostess-fever, I collected some money and went out to seek provisionary treasures. As I went to a store managed by an old man with few words (very rare for a Vietnamese vendor), I walked into the place the way people do when they grown familiar with their surroundings. I found my fortune, a big bottle of coke, and stood on the edge of the entranceway to pay the man. Not even two seconds went by when two motorbikes carrying passengers flanked me on both sides.
To my right was a woman asking, in Vietnamese, whether I had shampoo and soap (hah! I was getting better with the language by then), while to my left was a man and his friend who asked, “Do you have [insert quickly-spoken incoherent Vietnamese product here]?” Okay, so not as good, but to be fair, they both spoke at the same time. I immediately looked at the old man for…something. I wasn’t even sure: answers, advice, clarification?
Help?
The next thing I did was look down. I was wearing my college-aged Gap jeans and my “Scream Queen” shirt, which could have looked local except that everything was spelled correctly and grammatically made sense. So, I did the only thing left to do - I shook my hand, paid for my coke, and trekked home, contemplating the mysterious incident.
I guess I fit in better than I thought. It kinda sucks.
posted by Vivi at 7:53 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home