City and Forest Narrative

(Baonghean)Phong - my "boyfriend". Nghe - a close colleague of mine.
I was dozing off longer and longer during those coffee breaks at Quỳnh's place. Then, suddenly, "Xiều" said: "Let's go on a backpacking trip, shall we?"
So, my friend and I abruptly left the quiet Tran Quang Dieu street one autumn morning while Thanh Vinh was still drowsily asleep…

Night, floods, traffic jams, and no phone signal.

The artist will write about the owner of the Quynh coffee shop, a quiet man with a small stature, busily working with electronic equipment, drawing people into realms of sound with a passionate and elegant, yet incredibly expensive, hobby.

"Xiều" said nothing, even more silently than the owner of the shop, regularly drinking five cups of Saigon black coffee every day, his gaze fixed on the coffee-colored tablecloths with crimson stripes.

What does "Xiều" think about when listening to music?

Every day, Nghệ says, "I'll definitely write..." but he mixes up Trịnh Công Sơn's music, then moves on to Thanh Tùng, then hastily switches to Trần Tiến's and then to a blend of traditional and modern songs, all just to finish two glasses of rum, a regular occurrence each morning.

T – “the little girl who writes,” a journalist colleague at the provincial radio and television station who once gave me false hope for salvation; it turns out, she was even more resentful than I was.

I was utterly devastated by my own mistakes. My old friend Long analyzed and dissected them endlessly, concluding: "Just give you a good beating, like a 'big T' (a Vietnamese idiom meaning giving someone a big blow), and you'll be fine!" I knew he was devastated too. I knew it would be a long time before I was "fine."

Temporary bridge during the flood season at Nam Can spillway (Ky Son, Nghe An).

I was dozing off longer and longer during those coffee breaks at Quỳnh's place. Then, suddenly, "Xiều" said: "Let's go on a backpacking trip, shall we?"

So, my friend and I abruptly left the quiet Tran Quang Dieu street one autumn morning while Thanh Vinh was still drowsily asleep.

The bus heading into the forest has left the city…

Oh! It's a sunny day! A beautiful sunny day!

"Xiều" never slept at Quỳnh's coffee shop, but on the long journey westward, towards the vast mountains, "Xiều" did sleep and even snored innocently, drowning out the engine noise. It turned out that during those coffee breaks at Quỳnh's, "Xiều" didn't listen to music. "Xiều," like me, was contemplating for this "adventure" trip.

And we wandered aimlessly, carrying nothing of the city with us. We wandered because the sunny day was so beautiful and the green forests and deep mountains seemed to engulf us; yes, they engulfed us, comforting and soothing us.

I longed to cry with joy, freely, in this misty morning at an altitude of thousands of meters. The mountain mist, like a herd of warhorses galloping across the undulating mountain peaks, cascaded down the mountainside. The mountain mist caressed my eyes, my cheeks. I wanted to cry, and I did. No one saw me cry because the mountain mist continued to caress and linger on my eyes and cheeks. But only the mountain mist knew I was crying. Because my warm tears made the mountain mist tremble on my eyes and cheeks.

That's when I and my "biker" left Muong Xen after a night of intoxicating "celebratory and punitive drinks" with old and new friends, stopping our "steed" – a Win100 – by the Khe Kien bridge in Ky Son, having a cup of coffee at a roadside cafe, and regrouping to "gallop" along Highway 7b towards the majestic Phuxailaileng peak…

"Xiều" and our warhorse.

Exactly three years later, we finally repaid our debt from the trip to the Mekong Delta. The remote highlands are greener, perhaps thanks to the intensified efforts in forest conservation and protection. We "galloped" through mountain passes, slopes, and streams. Frost enveloped the valleys, ravines, and streams. The murmuring, gurgling of the rainy season waters sounded like the voices of elders singing folk legends. Thai, Hmong, or Kh'mu legends? These are the new legends of the people of Nam Can and Na Ngoi.

Vinh City boasts the unique Quynh Cafe, with its self-made, curated sound system worth seventy or eighty thousand dollars. The southwestern region of Nghe An province is also home to the unique Phuxailaileng peak, towering 2,500 meters above sea level. The owner of Quynh Cafe, originally from Quynh Doi - Quynh Luu, traveled from Bien Hoa back to his hometown to open a music cafe, simply to connect with people and contribute to portraying a unique aspect of Vinh's life for the people of Vinh. We went to Phuxailaileng, eager to hear and see, to tell a new legend about salmon, lilies, Shan Tuyet tea… and the beautiful story of the Mong people of Nam Can and Na Ngoi descending from the mountains to start a new life.

Can the owner of Quynh coffee shop do it? Can we do it? "Xieu" isn't a storyteller. I'm a journalist, I yearn to travel, to see, to hear. But I will tell a different story about the forest…

(To be continued)

Dinh Sam