Simple happiness

Whenever I travel to Ho Chi Minh City, from one place to another, I like to take a motorbike taxi. Because I travel so often, I've gotten to know one driver. I have his phone number, so I just call him whenever I need a ride.

The driver wasn't young anymore, but he was a skilled and experienced driver. Once, while chatting happily, he suddenly asked:

Why haven't you called me in so long?

- I only have business up here occasionally. I came this morning, finished my work, and went straight back this afternoon.

- What a waste. Since we're already here, we should stay and have some fun, shouldn't we?

I just smiled when I heard what the driver said. I'm not one to like hanging out. It's not like I don't have friends here, but I don't always feel the need to meet up.

"Stay a little longer," the driver urged. "Stay and have a drink with me, it'll be fun. Coming up and going straight back would be a waste!"

Hearing his voice, I knew he was sincere. Smelling his sweat, I was even more convinced he was an honest, down-to-earth person, not one to be deceitful.

I'll definitely have to stay sometime. Me and the motorbike taxi driver, a bottle of rice wine, some dried fish with tamarind sauce by the windy Nhiêu Lộc canal. We might hear a lot of interesting stories.

***

I once had to go to Hanoi for work right during a cold spell.

For dinner, I craved a hot, meat-filled sandwich. I walked along Tuệ Tĩnh and Nguyễn Bỉnh Khiêm streets for a while before finally finding a small sandwich stall. The woman selling the sandwiches was casually dressed, like a country bumpkin trying to make a living in the city. She and her stall were tucked away in a corner behind a large banyan tree. When I asked to buy a sandwich, she pulled out a piece of cooked meat, still cold and stale, quickly sliced it, and then fried it in a cast-iron pan with a layer of oil over a charcoal stove until golden brown. The meat sizzled as she scooped it into a pre-sliced sandwich, adding a little chili sauce. I considered adding some soy sauce, but I declined because I don't like the taste. Taking the sandwich home, I felt a sense of unease and doubt. Street food in an era of food safety concerns… To eat or not to eat? Back then, the question of "to be or not to be" probably only lingered in the mind of Hamlet – the Danish prince of that caliber.

I'm not someone who gives up and lets things take their course. I hate and fear contaminated food. I support everyone in their struggle for the right to eat and drink clean. But think about it! This is my time, the time of so many people like me. So many people still have to cling to the streets to make a living, still have to eat, drink, and survive. Many are even worse off than me. I live with them, sharing their joys and sorrows, their happiness and suffering, their love and hate… shouldn't I be prepared to accept the risks with them? Worry, agonize, feel indignant, and act when necessary, but above all, we must live and hope.

Therefore, sometimes happiness is truly simple, it doesn't need to be complicated. A warm loaf of bread, a plate of street-style rice, a piece of fish, a bowl of soup… Eating alone. Or eating with friends. While eating, unbuttoning your shirt to let in the cool breeze, and listening to the birds singing, the peaceful rustling of the Bodhi tree leaves in the quiet alley in the heart of the city.

***

Early in the morning, T. texted: "I'm really craving a trip, bro." I replied: "Let's go to Vung Tau to eat banh khot (Vietnamese savory pancakes)."

I remember the time T. came to a meeting in Vung Tau, and we arranged to go out for dinner that evening. I planned to take him somewhere to enjoy a glass of wine or beer, but T. preferred simple, everyday dishes like banh beo or banh khot. There are some very famous, affordable options, like "Goc Vu Sua" banh khot. So we decided to go for banh khot. But "Goc Vu Sua" was closed that night, so we ended up at another restaurant.

T. longs to travel. Am I any less so? It's been so long since I've left the city. Every morning I watch the little squirrel scurrying and jumping carefree on the power lines strung across the road. I hear the bird singing its clear, melodious song somewhere behind the green arches. The jasmine blossoms, their fragrance wafting through the window. Nature seems to both hold me back and beckon me.

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