DA NANG, VIET NAM – It all started with a text message from our friend Linda. “Are you coming to the party at the pool?”
Party at the pool? “Oh yeah, I vaguely remember something about a year-end New Year’s party at the My An Sport Center on the 11th. Is that tonight?” I asked.
When we originally saw the party announcement on Facebook, Melanie had immediately written it off. “Nope, not going to that.”
I had logged it away somewhere in the dark reaches of my subconscious mind, thinking at the time, “Well, if we’re not doing anything else that night I’d be willing to check it out.”
Then I promptly forgot all about it. That’s what my ‘dark reaches’ are for apparently. At least that’s how they usually seem to function.
Mel and I were just starting to think about dinner when Linda’s text arrived. What should we eat? Where should we go? Were we even hungry yet?
“Is there food?”
Mel texted back to Linda, “Is there food?”
Linda would later tell us that when she originally sent the text there were a bunch of tables and chairs set up, but the only things resembling food were some rice crackers and bottles of water.
“Yes,” she texted back.
“Let’s go,” we decided. “There will probably at least be some snacks. We can always go out to eat later with Linda and Roy. What have we got to lose?”
Still two blocks away from the pool we could already hear the music… and off-key singing. “Oh no. There’s karaoke.”
The Vietnamese love their karaoke
The Vietnamese love their karaoke. Give them a few drinks – even one is usually enough – hand them a microphone, and they’ll jump up in front of a crowd – friends, strangers, it doesn’t matter – and belt out their favorite song as the lyrics scroll by on the karaoke screen.
I’m always amused at the willingness of the Vietnamese people to get up in front of an audience and sing karaoke at deafening amplitude, unencumbered by any sense of rhythm or a need to know the melody.
No rhythm? No problem. Can’t carry a tune in the proverbial bucket? Who needs a melody anyway? Just shout it out as loud as you can.
And shout they do, even with a microphone, because the music volume is always cranked up just short of the bleeding from your ears level.
Linda had texted Mel again saying they’d try to save us a couple seats.
The place was packed
Good thing! The place was packed when we arrived. They had set up at least 20 large round tables at the end of the pool next to the Sports Club building. Each table seated 10 people, and they were all packed to capacity.
We found Linda and Roy among the crowd and sat down on the two low plastic stools they had reserved for us – practically the only empty seats in the whole place.
The music was way too loud to carry on any kind of meaningful conversation. All you could manage was a few words at a time shouted at someone’s ear from two inches away. And even that usually had to be repeated at least once.
We no sooner sat down than the beer started to flow. Familiar club employees were making the rounds of the tables to make sure everyone had a glass and beer… and ice.
Not a fan of ice cubes in my beer
I prefer cold beer, but I’ve never been a big fan of putting ice in the beer to make it that way. It melts too quickly and it dilutes the taste. I drink beer because I like the flavor (well, that and the alcohol buzz).
But in Vietnam I’ve found that they often store beer at room temperature (which can be quite warm in the tropics), so I’ve conceded the ice in beer debate and just try to go with it.
The pool party beer was warm. Probably 80 degrees warm (27 Celsius) since that’s how warm it was outside. I accepted the chunk of ice in my glass. And the warm beer.
And then there was the food. By now, the rice crackers had been joined by platters brimming with veggies and various marinated cooked meats, accompanied by small bowls of dipping sauces.
A bowl of something dark and dangerous
There was the familiar orange gel of Chin-Su hot sauce, one of my favorite discoveries when we first arrived here (though I seldom eat it anymore). And a second bowl of something dark and dangerous looking.
I could see the flecks of hot pepper floating in the deep brown murk, so I knew it would be hot. I’ve come to expect a bit of heat in almost everything we eat here, and my tolerance for spicy food has increased considerably over the past year.
Picking up a slice of meat with my chopsticks, I went easy on the first dip. I didn’t want to burn out my taste buds too soon. I could see that more food was on the way and I wanted to be able to taste it.
Happily, the sauce was not too hot, not too sweet, and filled with flavor.
The food just kept coming
And more food there was. Just about the time our table would finish up one round of goodies, more platters would appear, piled high with more exotic delicacies. Melanie counted eight or nine courses! I just kept eating.
All the while, the karaoke was blaring in the background. They had set up a small stage at one end of the area for the singers. And they even had a fog machine so the performers could feel like rock stars, singing to thousands of adoring fans at a stadium concert… or something. It was a hoot.
And just as the too loud music and the too much food kept coming, so did the beer. We were repeatedly joined by smiling Vietnamese who insisted on another toast. Glasses were refilled, ice cubes refreshed, and chants of “Mot, hai, ba” filled the night air. “One, two, three! Drink! Bottoms up!” Again and again and again.
Most of the people were Vietnamese
Our table was filled with Westerners, but most of the tables were populated with Vietnamese. Club members, employees and families, and some people we suspected were the club owners.
“Japanese,” Mel pronounced after another toast with a distinguished older Asian man who stopped at our table and poured more beer and shook everyone’s hand.
He was preceded by a long introduction from the stage by one of the club staff. Almost five minutes of animated speech – all in Vietnamese. “I bet that’s the Japanese owner,” Mel said.
Like all of the Vietnamese parties we’ve been to so far, there was way more food than could be reasonably consumed by the people in attendance. It just kept coming.
Melanie and I have seen it before. We’ve been invited to a handful of Vietnamese parties over the past 14 months. Linda was impressed. She and Roy hadn’t seen such extravagance here in Vietnam, but maybe Mel and I have just moved in different circles.
Don’t know. What I do know is we came away from the party after nearly two hours full and happy, and maybe just a little bit drunk. A good time was had by all.
Great story! And sounds like a really fun evening!
It really was great fun! One more up close and personal look into the local culture.