Monsoon (32 page)

‘Jean-Claude? Yeah, sort of. He's gone to Cambodia and Laos. He's busy with his life and business.'

He smiled at her and changed the subject. ‘Do you want me to sound Carlo out? About contacts, what he's doing? If I can help, let me know.'

‘Thanks, Kim. I don't want Carlo to rush into some mad business scheme. Though it's hard to tell Carlo anything. He's been in the country ten minutes and thinks he's got a handle on everything. Not that I want to stifle his entrepreneurial dreams. In fact, he could be onto the good idea of importing garden pots and ornaments into Australia. But he needs to cover all the fine details.'

‘Sandy, worrying about Carlo and his business prospects shouldn't be high on your agenda. You have enough on your plate,' said Kim gently.

‘I'm thinking more of Anna. She's my friend.'

‘She chose Carlo,' he reminded her.

‘I think he chose her and he's bulldozed right over her. Anna's too nice for her own good. Always making excuses for him.'

‘Well, that's something you can't control either. The scales will fall from her eyes eventually,' advised Kim.

‘I just don't want her to get hurt. But you're right: I do have enough to get on with. Especially if Anna is taking a couple of days off.'

‘I'll help in the evenings if you want.'

‘Thanks, Kim. You're such a good mate. I'll yell if we need help.'

‘Any time.'

Anna found going to the markets with Ho a more stimulating experience than wandering around the Hoi An markets with Sandy snapping photos of the colourful scenes. Ho was well known to the Hang Da market stall-holders who shouted out to him, asking questions about the attractive Viet Kieu with him. He called back that she was his assistant who had come from Australia to learn how to cook real Vietnamese food. Anna knew she was being discussed and was quite surprised to see Ho almost grinning, enjoying the attention.

He drove a hard bargain and showed Anna how to test which vegetables were fresh. He taught her how to tell the difference between seafood caught the night before and that which had been there several days. Fruit was chosen carefully. Ho turned and inspected each piece as much for its aesthetic qualities – shape, colour, appearance – as for the ripeness and taste. He kept aside five mixed pieces to put on his personal altar, then he moved on to the spice section. Food needed the right spices, the right ‘music' to go with dishes, he told her. Depending on the lunar month, food required certain spices. Anna had never seen such an array. Ho rattled off several combinations: ground beetle essence and shrimp paste for rice noodle soup, mandarin peel and fennel with clamworms, oysters and clams from the river with sweet knotweed. His favourite combination was cinnamon, chilli, basil, lemon juice and shrimp paste.

But, he told her, it was wrong to put incorrect herbs with certain foods. Dog meat must have galangal, sweet rice paste, basil, coriander and shrimp paste. Anna still couldn't cope with the idea of eating dog and Ho quickly assured her they never served dog at Barney's. He was bemused by the small things that caught Anna's eye, like cooked food being sold in ‘take-away' containers of folded or woven banana leaf.

On the way back to Barney's, Ho stopped at a com binh dan – a streetside eatery – for a bowl of savoury rice gruel. Between mouthfuls Ho commented on the growing trend of families, workers, students, people from all levels of society, to eat at these ‘fast food' places.

‘When I grow up everyone eat at home. It tradition. People no have money eat like this,' he said. ‘Now people got money. This new way to eat.'

‘But isn't all the family eating at home important?' asked Anna.

Ho shrugged. ‘For festival and special time. Me chef, I want people eat outside places.'

Anna laughed but didn't ask Ho about his dream of owning his own restaurant, especially as things had just settled down after the blow-up with Carlo. She didn't want to raise another touchy subject.

After the markets Ho returned to Barney's and Anna decided to spend an hour or two exploring before getting ready for her next shift. She wished that Carlo was with her, but he had dashed off early that morning to visit the ceramic makers in Bat Trung.

‘Back this evening, kid. We'll catch a bit of moonlight then, right?' he'd declared brightly on seeing her disappointment at the sudden trip. Anna had wanted him to visit Mr Thinh's pottery factory but he had dismissed the suggestion, saying that his contacts knew best. Nevertheless, he had agreed with her suggestion that the two of them get away for a couple of days to Halong Bay – as long as she organised it. So Anna had contacted Captain Chinh, and booked the
Harvest Moon
for the middle of the week, when it would be quieter and the trip would be more romantic.

She wandered into a district she didn't know well – leafy trees, French colonial architecture, a few offices housing overseas companies and expensive expat homes behind wrought-iron fences. There was an elegant French bistro, a few local food stalls and a motorcycle repair shop spilling across the sidewalk. Then she spotted a discreet sign above red-framed wooden doors – La Porte Rouge. In the window there was a display of carved wooden posts with abstract symbolic faces and she realised she had stumbled across Charlie's gallery. However, the door was locked and a handwritten sign announced it would open at two.

Nice hours for some, she thought. Oh well, she'd come back another day.

She hailed a cyclo that had been following her down the street and asked the driver to take her to West Lake. Once through the Old Quarter, Anna pointed to the causeway between two lakes which was lined with trees, pagodas and small parks. A myriad of open-air restaurants were serving the local delicacy – West Lake shrimp cake – so Anna settled at a table and placed an order. She was sipping her favourite jasmine tea and had closed her eyes in blissful appreciation when someone stopped beside her. Turning, she recognised Rick Dale.

‘Sampling the opposition?' he asked.

‘I suppose I could say it's research,' she laughed. ‘I was just exploring. Near Charlie's gallery, in fact, but it's closed.'

‘Charlie and his wife have gone to Sapa for a few days and Miss Huong is on a field trip. I'm due to open up at two. Another staff member is coming by to continue some work for them.'

‘So you're minding the shop? Would you like to join me? I've ordered a shrimp cake. Probably far too much for one person.'

Rick pulled out a chair. ‘Lovely. I'm helping to authenticate some old writing on several artifacts. I'm not much of a salesman, but I'm happy to be there for them. Where've you been?'

‘The markets with Ho, our chef. That was quite an experience. I can't believe how different food, cooking and eating are here compared to home.'

‘Yeah, fast food takes on a whole other meaning. The food is so healthy here. Toss in some fresh greens, homemade noodles, peanuts or tofu, a few bits of meat, chicken or shrimp and you have a fantastic meal in a minute.'

‘Don't forget the spices for flavour. I had a lecture about what goes with what from Ho this morning.'

‘So you don't mind chilli, nuoc mam, ginger?'

‘And the rest. No. I've developed a real taste for this food. Must be in my blood, I guess.' She gave a small smile and Rick studied her and seemed about to say something, but changed his mind. ‘Where were you going?' she asked.

‘Oh, a few errands. And I was planning on a bite to eat, so this is opportune.' He ordered a coffee and asked, ‘How's it going at the cafe? Has your friend Carlo found enough to keep him busy?'

‘We had a bit of a hiccup with the chef, but things are running smoothly for the moment. Carlo has gone down to Bat Trung: he's interested in exporting ceramics to Australia.'

‘Yeah, he mentioned that. Said he had contacts. He seems quite enterprising,' said Rick casually. ‘You said at that art show where we met that you weren't so interested in art.'

‘Not knowledgeable. That's Sandy's field.'

‘You can get sucked in. Especially in a place surrounded by art. Everywhere you look you see art here. From the colours of buildings, to the food displays, to the decorations on pagodas, and the clutter in the streets. Then in the hill country Miss Huong finds carved burial markers. Even wooden steps up to a house on stilts have a story carved in every step. It's a land of stories. There's a story behind the shape of mountains, lakes, how a piece got its colour.' He stopped, slightly embarrassed. ‘I suppose it's like your Aboriginal legends where everything in the landscape has a story about how it got there from the creation time.'

Anna looked at the shrimp cake which was put on the table. ‘I have to confess I don't know much about Australian Aboriginal history and stuff. I'm a city girl. Where in the States are you from?'

‘California. And if you're going to ask if I know much about Native American history, I don't. I know more about Buddhist art and history.' He took a bite of the fried shrimp cake. ‘I bet it's fun for you to be finding out about your Vietnamese heritage. Is that one of the reasons you came over here?'

‘What makes you think I need to know my Vietnamese heritage?'

Rick was surprised at her defensive tone. ‘Oops, sorry. I just assumed. I know one shouldn't, but as you're part-Vietnamese I thought you were exploring the country's culture.'

‘I'm learning to cook traditional Vietnamese food. That's enough.' She sipped her tea. ‘I know very little about my mother's family here. I suppose my father has some details.'

‘I have a friend who was adopted and can't trace his biological parents. He got married and adopted a little Chinese girl, and there are no records about her either. She was abandoned in a gutter. It rips him up. He's always saying if there was any way he could find anything at all about his family or hers, he'd do anything to know.' He paused and added gently, ‘One day your children might want to know about their grandmother. Don't you think you owe them that?' When Anna didn't answer he said, ‘I'm sorry. I'm being presumptuous. Is it a painful story?'

‘I'm not sure,' said Anna quietly. ‘My dad said my mother, who was a boat refugee, had a terrible time but once she settled in Australia and married Dad, she never wanted to look back. She had an aunt and uncle in Australia too, who escaped with her. But they're both dead now.'

‘Well, your dad would know her story! He must be waiting for you to ask, Anna. Sandy would help you.'

‘I know, I know. It's never seemed important. Well, not part of my life. I know it sounds silly, but I came here on the spur of the moment for a holiday with Sandy. I missed her and I could take time off work. I didn't feel any real connection with this place until I got off the plane.'

Anna stopped. She had surprised herself, not only at telling Rick this, but at how easy it was to talk to him. Carlo didn't want to hear about her feelings very often, and he certainly did not want to hear about her Vietnamese heritage.

‘Talk it over with Sandy,' Rick suggested and changed the subject as he could see Anna looked a little confused and he didn't want to upset her. ‘By the way, I was going to ask if you and Sandy want to come to a function on Friday evening. Another exhibition, at the Fine Arts Museum, quite a big do. It's a gorgeous building if you haven't been in there. It's not a high-art place, but fine art for all people. It will be sort of formal, lots of dignitaries and so forth. But it could be quite interesting once the speeches are over. There's a cultural dance troupe, great food and a rather interesting show of the art of the Dong Son civilisation.'

‘It sounds terrific, but I'm not sure both of us can leave the cafe,' said Anna, genuinely disappointed. ‘Sandy would love it, I'm sure.'

‘She knows the museum pretty well; I was thinking it might be of interest to a new visitor, like yourself. It's early, six till nine, and you don't have to stay the whole time. You could be back at Barney's by eight. Anyway, see what you can work out. I'll drop by with an invitation. Carlo is included too, of course.'

‘Thank you,' said Anna, knowing Carlo wouldn't be at all interested. ‘I am trying to learn a bit more about art, which is why it would have been interesting to go to Charlie's.'

‘I could take you through if you like. Or there's a really interesting small museum close to the Old Quarter. It's mostly ceramics – the good old ones.'

‘That'd be good. Maybe I could get some information for Carlo!' She laughed. ‘By the way, aren't all old ceramics valuable? Just because of their age? I mean, how old are we talking?'

‘Most of the ones worth big money are fifteenth century or earlier. But they go up to the nineteenth century, which are more common and not so valuable, of course.'

‘That's still pretty old,' said Anna. ‘I'll settle the bill, unless you'd like more coffee?'

‘No, let me. I helped myself to your shrimp cake,' said Rick.

‘Just as well, it was huge. No, I insist on getting lunch. In exchange for the ceramics tour.'

‘Okay, you've got a deal. Now, I have something to show you near here.'

It was a small building, one of the old narrow tube houses, stretching back from the street. Two floors were devoted to glass display cabinets, but it was an informal kind of museum. Rick showed a pass in his wallet to the guard at a small desk inside the doorway.

‘What is this place?' asked Anna, as there was no sign on the door and it didn't appear to be open to the public.

‘It's a ceramic history of Vietnam held by the state archives. Vietnam was not recognised for a long time as having its own unique ceramic traditions. It was assumed it was derivative because of Chinese influence for so long. Some old stone pieces were found at Bac Son dating to the middle of the Stone Age, ten thousand years ago. On Friday you'll see some lovely Dong Son pieces from between the seventh and ninth centuries.'