Read Online The Eaves of Heaven by Andrew X. Pham - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew X. Pham
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C ho Lon, Saigon’s Chinatown, was also its nightlife hub. Although the Great World was no longer in business, peace and the influx of foreign investments had brought a profusion of bars, clubs, inexpensive eateries, dim sum shops, and cafés into this part of the city. There were hundreds of places to have a good time on a student budget.
The Saturday after the exams midway through my sophomore year in college, I took Anh out with my three best buddies and their girlfriends. Anh and I had been dating six months since I came back from Dalat. She knew all my friends’ girlfriends.
We went to our favorite nightclub on the seventh floor of the Dong Khanh Hotel.
Thu, Ha, Tat, and I had been friends since our high school in Saigon. Thu was a pudgy joker and fantastic dancer whose presence was required at every outing. Ha was the nice guy, pole-thin and at six-foot ridiculously tall for a Vietnamese. Tat was Mr. Handsome. The girls were crazy for his round, deep-set eyes, high-bridged nose, and curly hair. I was the bookish one.
The club was packed because there was no cover charge and the drinks were cheap. The girls wore both traditional and European dress while the boys were in the standard dark slacks and white long sleeves. We danced the waltz, rumba, tango, cha-cha, and even did the twist for hours.
While the girls ran off to freshen their makeup, the guys sipped beers around a table at the back of the club. As usual, the conversation was about the future. There was no need to talk about the past because we were all northerners from well-to-do families—and because it was depressing.
Before the Japanese invasion, Tat’s father was an official in the administration under the French. After the French were removed, the whole administrative system came under the Tran Trong Kim regime, a puppet government set up by the Japanese. Tat’s father quickly rose in rank. In the South, he was retained, as were many former Tran officials, by the Diem administration. He became a department manager in the Ministry of Justice and earned a comfortable living.
Ha and Thu were both from the upper merchant class. While Thu’s father was able to salvage part of his wealth before leaving Hanoi, Ha’s father lost everything. Thu’s family restarted a moderate life in the South. Ha’s family lived off their meager savings. Having lost his will to live along with his fortune, Ha’s father spent his remaining days reading novels in bed.
But we were young and did not see ourselves as poor. Tat, Ha, and I were in our second year at Saigon University, pursuing our degrees in pedagogy. I was also attending the government’s Institute of Administration with Thu, who was my study partner at the college. He knew I wanted to pursue a teaching career and was trying to convince me to stay with the administration program.
“You’ve passed basic training in Dalat. The rest is easy,” Thu said. “All you have to do is finish the program and you’ll be exempted from military service.”
Tat snorted. “The country is fine. Besides, if he becomes a teacher, he’d be exempted as well.”
“I’d drop one program if I were you,” Ha said. “You know what happens when you try catching two fish with two hands.”
Tat, Ha, and I thought that there was no prestige in being a paper pusher in the government’s bureaucracy. We were stuck in the old mindset that saw honor in pursuing the difficult paths, and one of those was teaching. I was doing very well in both schools and was intoxicated by my own abilities. I could not see beyond my success.
The girls returned from the WC and ordered a round of iced teas. Ha’s girlfriend, Loan, was gregarious and always tried to please others with her compliments.
“You’re very handsome, Tat! I think you would look fabulous in photos,” Loan gushed, trying to flatter him. She turned to the other girls. “Don’t you think he could be a French movie star?”
They giggled, nodding with Loan,
C ho Lon, Saigon’s Chinatown, was also its nightlife hub. Although the Great World was no longer in business, peace and the influx of foreign investments had brought a profusion of bars, clubs, inexpensive eateries, dim sum shops, and cafés into this part of the city. There were hundreds of places to have a good time on a student budget.
The Saturday after the exams midway through my sophomore year in college, I took Anh out with my three best buddies and their girlfriends. Anh and I had been dating six months since I came back from Dalat. She knew all my friends’ girlfriends.
We went to our favorite nightclub on the seventh floor of the Dong Khanh Hotel.
Thu, Ha, Tat, and I had been friends since our high school in Saigon. Thu was a pudgy joker and fantastic dancer whose presence was required at every outing. Ha was the nice guy, pole-thin and at six-foot ridiculously tall for a Vietnamese. Tat was Mr. Handsome. The girls were crazy for his round, deep-set eyes, high-bridged nose, and curly hair. I was the bookish one.
The club was packed because there was no cover charge and the drinks were cheap. The girls wore both traditional and European dress while the boys were in the standard dark slacks and white long sleeves. We danced the waltz, rumba, tango, cha-cha, and even did the twist for hours.
While the girls ran off to freshen their makeup, the guys sipped beers around a table at the back of the club. As usual, the conversation was about the future. There was no need to talk about the past because we were all northerners from well-to-do families—and because it was depressing.
Before the Japanese invasion, Tat’s father was an official in the administration under the French. After the French were removed, the whole administrative system came under the Tran Trong Kim regime, a puppet government set up by the Japanese. Tat’s father quickly rose in rank. In the South, he was retained, as were many former Tran officials, by the Diem administration. He became a department manager in the Ministry of Justice and earned a comfortable living.
Ha and Thu were both from the upper merchant class. While Thu’s father was able to salvage part of his wealth before leaving Hanoi, Ha’s father lost everything. Thu’s family restarted a moderate life in the South. Ha’s family lived off their meager savings. Having lost his will to live along with his fortune, Ha’s father spent his remaining days reading novels in bed.
But we were young and did not see ourselves as poor. Tat, Ha, and I were in our second year at Saigon University, pursuing our degrees in pedagogy. I was also attending the government’s Institute of Administration with Thu, who was my study partner at the college. He knew I wanted to pursue a teaching career and was trying to convince me to stay with the administration program.
“You’ve passed basic training in Dalat. The rest is easy,” Thu said. “All you have to do is finish the program and you’ll be exempted from military service.”
Tat snorted. “The country is fine. Besides, if he becomes a teacher, he’d be exempted as well.”
“I’d drop one program if I were you,” Ha said. “You know what happens when you try catching two fish with two hands.”
Tat, Ha, and I thought that there was no prestige in being a paper pusher in the government’s bureaucracy. We were stuck in the old mindset that saw honor in pursuing the difficult paths, and one of those was teaching. I was doing very well in both schools and was intoxicated by my own abilities. I could not see beyond my success.
The girls returned from the WC and ordered a round of iced teas. Ha’s girlfriend, Loan, was gregarious and always tried to please others with her compliments.
“You’re very handsome, Tat! I think you would look fabulous in photos,” Loan gushed, trying to flatter him. She turned to the other girls. “Don’t you think he could be a French movie star?”
They giggled, nodding with Loan,
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