Vietnam day 3

 “Babe… babe… we gotta go do offering with parents.”

“Should I get dressed first,” I reply with a yawn. 

“No, they just want us to go down now.” 

“Can I put a bra on first?”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

I head downstairs, mom and dad already dressed and made up, and me sporting my husbands pj pants. 

“I have to go, [Aunt General] was in an accident. But go do offering with parents.” Everyone is a little panicked over Aunt, but mom, dad, and I head over to Uncle 10’s house (who lives right next door).

The house that Uncle 10 lives in was the home that grandmom was born in. It was built somewhere around 1890 when her grandparents first founded it. Being that she was the oldest of two girls (no boys to inherit the home first), she inherited the home. She then passed it on to her eldest son, dad, however because he moved to America, he passed it on to his brother, Uncle 10. The original section of the home is forbidden to being altered or remodeled in any way. It even contains the original beds (that are basically dinner tables) that were slept on by grandmom and her family. The altar for the offering is in that same original section of the house and is dedicated to grandma’s parents (specifically her father, as her mother’s altar is set up at another uncle’s home). 

Upon the altar, Mom places the box of Russel assorted chocolates that we bought at Walmart. She lights a couple incense, hands me one, we silently pray, bow three times, and then place each incense in the censer. A proud portrait of great-grandpop shows his approval.

Turns out Aunt General is okay, just some road rash that needs some good first aid. My husband and I shower and hitch a ride/ride a bicycle to Aunt’s store. I arrive first and check out the damage my husband had already looked over, planning out how I will clean and dress her wounds. My husband heads back to the pharmacy to gather first aid supplies, and returns with everything on our list that was available. 

I cleanse, medicate, and dress her wounds, with only some grimacing from the hydrogen peroxide. Afterward she is feeling reassured by decreased risk of infection, and relishing in how nice it is to be taken care of—especially when you are the one who usually takes care of everyone else.

My husband and I take a stroll for some street food to bring back:  a sort of meat wrapped in a jelly rice and some egg rolls. Of course, aunt has iced drinks for us from her the drink cart across the street. Aunt takes me to her room in the back of the store (here home is attached to the store) where she has me try on a few dresses of hers. We plan to do the traditional Vietnamese wedding tea ceremony while we are here, so I need the proper attire for the occasion. Because of the basketball belly, I will have to forego the traditional floor length Viet wedding dress, and just opt for a summer dress. Aunt provides options. I pregnant Lynda does not at all fit in a Vietnamese size XL, in case anyone was curious. Eventually a few dresses fit just enough and are husband approved. After the fashion show, we eat.

With a full belly, I opt to nap in the hammock in her shop. It can be quite the feat napping in a hammock with a 15 lb belly, but somehow I managed. 

After I awaken, I find my husband has gone back to the house to tend to grandma. While we await his return to the store, Aunt General escorts me across the street to the nail salon. It appears there is a conspiracy amuck between her and my husband. I will enjoy the benefits. Shoes off at the door of this small salon, I clomp my swollen feet over to the chair I am directed to. Assorted nail polishes are piled in a bin to choose from, however Aunt brought manicure tools and her own polish for them to use for me. A sweet lanky girl with an obvious speech impediment diligently beautifies my fingers and toes. Before paint is supplied, I am escorted behind the paneled room divider and guided onto a massage bed lying on my back with my head in a sink. For the next I-don’t-know-how-long, another gal proceeds to give me a facial, shampoo, and head massage. It did feel wonderful, save the scalp popping technique. I was half-anticipating it and dreading it, as only a week prior had I watched a YouTube video on the health risks of this Eastern technique. 

After the gal combs out my hair, she sends me on my way. I know I didn’t get my nails painted, but I am not sure whether to say something, or just pretend like it wasn’t meant to be. Aunt pays for the services. Ultimately, as we are out the door, my husband notices my bare nails, and asks why they didn’t do it. Aunt hails the beautician out and asks them to paint my toes (I decline having my fingers painted). The gal has me sit on a bench and paints them right there outside the shop. Can’t help but chuckle at the difference between American salons and Viet. I think I almost prefer the casual vibe of the Viet salons more. 

We head back to the Aunt’s store, and after a few minutes my husband and I find ways home. Showers and naps are in order. 

After we wake up we spend the evening with grandmom before we head to bed.