Ribbet, Ribbet

by Claudia Rodriguez (United States of America)

Making a local connection Vietnam

Sometimes I’m reminded of Vietnam while I’m stuck in traffic, and a motorcycle snakes through lanes just to get by, or when I pass a tattoo shop, and I think about the ceremonial opening of a parlor that I stumbled upon in downtown Hanoi, or last summer, when I kayaked on Lake Mendota and found that the view didn’t come close to matching the magnificence of Ha Long Bay. Mainly though, what comes to mind when I think of Vietnam-- or what comes to tongue, I should say-- is the distinct taste of raw frog. My best friend and I were staying at Vietnam Backpackers Hostel and were exhausted from the past few nights we spent guzzling down Tiger beers, mingling with fellow travellers from around the world. Instead of booking the ‘party cruise’ to Ha Long Bay, which seemed like the popular option among our current crowd, we decided on a cheap, calm, and unbeknownst to us, romantic getaway boat. That’s right, she and I unknowingly booked a couple’s cruise-- but this ‘mistake’ actually led us to one of the best experiences in Vietnam: intimately getting to know our cruise guide, Vi. Our conversation began after Vi declined a cigarette, which seemed unusual to me, considering the prevalence of smoking we had found in Southeast Asia far. I asked him why he refused, and he explained to me that he had been a smoker since he was twelve years-old but had recently quit according to his wife’s wishes. My initial curiosity about something as minute as a cigarette sparked a five hour long conversation, and Vi left us with a recommendation to a local restaurant with a certain specialty: frog soup. Of course, I made it a point to eat here-- this was a spot I couldn’t have found on TripAdvisor or any of the other typical travel guides, which made the opportunity to dine here an undeniable one. We walked along the bustling highway, following our pre written directions and using our best attempt at sign language to ask pedestrians for some extra help, eventually making our way to a restaurant located on the other side of town. We surveyed where we had ended up, and both of us were admittedly shook; as two young women, a distrust for places too foreign was unfortunately instilled in us at an early age. We both, however, agreed to trust that Vi would have not sent us anywhere dangerous. We chose to accept this new territory, out of respect to our new friend, with open minds. We arrived at the restaurant to find around forty Vietnamese eyes staring at us-- not out of judgment or resentment, but out of pure curiosity: what were these two American tourists doing here of all places? There was a single menu at this restaurant written only in Vietnamese (unlike many of the other places we had been to that provided an English translation) which hung on the back wall. Thankfully, we were able to communicate-- again, using our impeccable sign language-- that we came for the frog soup. Some minutes had passed, but we could still feel the eyeballs on us. We assumed that it was because they had still not grown accustomed to us foreigners, but I was quickly informed by two kind teenagers at the table next to us-- using their impeccable sign language-- that I had not placed the frog in the broth which cooked it. As it turns out, I had eaten an entire frog raw. Once the fear of contracting some kind of a disease subsided, what I found amazing was that no one in the restaurant judged me for my mistake. Another customer had caught me in this act and relayed the message to the people next to us, who were then able to explain to me how to indulge in this frog soup-- that once I ate the correct way, by the way-- was absolutely delicious. As disgusting as this accident was, it was also a moment of true camaraderie: everyone in the restaurant wanted me to enjoy my meal as much as they were. Surprisingly, no food poisoning followed this event. All that followed was laughter.