Fili’s world

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At some point it really hit me hard. Not difficult to understand that it could only happen when Ngoc - nick named Jessica - left me there alone for a few minutes as she headed to some women’s business. I was there alone, the only western in the crowd, the only guy to actually move to the rhythm of Ung Hoang Phuc’s music, the only guy to have a rough week on a faraway land. I was overwhelmed, totally emotional, the situation taking over me. Small moments of complicated thoughts and feelings that bring harsh reality to confront existence awareness. It took an accident and an extreme situation to get me feeling again. For the slightest of moments, there was no escaping the horrifying fact that I, yeah - me… I was happy.

I actually noticed a big sign with “Ung hoang phuc” as I was leaving Diamond Plaza Center one day. I stopped to stare at the big sign, ignoring the moron that kept saying “Motorbike, I take you, where you go…”, trying to understand what it meant. Is he really performing in Saigon? I’ve bought so many of his CDs, listening to them myself, continuing the habit of distributing them to my loved ones in HoiAn. Not understanding the words, I could repeat most of the songs’ chorus. I can’t exactly point out what I like about him, but I think it’s the combination of western and Vietnamese sound that really drew me. I couldn’t make anything of the sign, but I wrote down a mental note to ask around. If he’s in town, I want to see this guy, no matter the cost, no matter the chin pain.

First answer I got from Jessy was that there’s no way he’s performing, and that the sign was probably just some ad for his new CD. I asked her to look it up on a Vietnamese newspaper for me, and if it’s not him - then I’d like some other good singer. I felt like I needed music in my life to cheer me up. She continued to warn me that what ever live music performance I would pick, it would be very expensive - pointing out the fact that she could never afford it. When I heard the ridiculous sum, which is less than a beer bottle in Israel, I offered - “I’ll make you a deal. You find me Ung Hoang Phuc, and if you’d like - I’m taking you with me”.

I was right, to her surprise. The sign I saw was, indeed, saying that he is in town. We got there too early, so we reserved the seats and headed out for my first ever somewhat shocking experience of a Korean restaurant. Trying to live up to my new effort to eat even if I’m not hungry, I wasn’t able to pull through with the strange spicy dishes. Although it was apparent that Jessy wasn’t that comfortable with the whole girl-boy going out alone for dinner and a show, she was charming and funny. There was something very different, bizarre and fascinating about this girl that I haven’t quite met yet in Vietnam.

First hour Vietnamese have to endure nameless singers before getting the real live action. I’ve heard and laughed at various anonymous Vietnamese singers kareoking to famous songs, in Vietnamese and English. I’ve heard plenty Vietnamese funny covers to romantic western songs, but when I recognized the Vietnamese version to “Ani Chozer Habaita, Ani Ve-Hagitara”, which I now know was originally a French song I was ecstatic, aching to endure the pain my big smiles were giving me.

He was great. He got so many flowers and kisses on that show that by the end of the evening the whole stage was covered with roses and blushing young girls with a dreamy smile. The ultimate Vietnamese experience, only to face competition from the Vietnamese wedding.

(BTW - Yeah, I have my passport. I’m also having my stiches removed today. It still looks nasty, but nothing like I was afraid it would look like)

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