In Which I Sort of Get Proposed To

So today was really rainy and unpleasant in the beginning, but then around two in the afternoon, the rain stopped and the outlook for the next several hours (weather-wise) looked good. It wasn't going to get sunny, but it was passable biking weather.

I decide about that time to pack up and head to the Bamboo restaurant, as I do; it felt a little weird because I would probably go there again in the evening, but I love it there. It's about as close to a home as you can get without actually ever sleeping there. I could go on, but I've got a story to tell.

Having gone downstairs, I was about to jump on Anna's bike and start riding, when she called me over and directed me into their kitchen; I hadn't been in their kitchen before, as the restaurant style seating is arranged in the reception area; usually I'd  just sit there. I'd wanted to see the kitchen when they were making food, but hadn't ever been inside before.

It wasn't particularly clean or impressive, but it was probably cleaner and almost as organized as the McDonalds in Dinkytown I used to work at. I'd love to organize and clean the place, but it obviously served its purpose.

They offered me a plate of rice and what I assume was grilled goat; there was lettuce on the side, as well, a trio of spring rolls, and a couple oranges parted out into sections. I prayed and begin eating, in front of them. They occupy themselves in the kitchen, the six or seven of them, but all the while they're talking, occasionally laughing, and at one point Anna mentions that one of the men there is her husband.

I'd been wondering this, honestly, but she had a sister. Plus, I wasn't really betting on falling in love and getting married to a Vietnamese girl. I just sort of constantly keep my eyes open for girls whom I might be interested in.

Anyway, a minute or two later, as I was eating orange portions (I think), Anna says something or other (her accent is pretty difficult), indicating her sister, and crosses her fingers. I'm sort of already on to her, but my brain is a bit slow sometimes, and this was one of those times. I asked her to say it again, and again I didn't really understand what she said, but her signing was slowly clicking in my head. At some point I got it and started protesting, in the most logical way I thought I could.

I've heard that Asians have a different idea of marriage than Americans, and that, in some respects, it's more of a business arrangement than an alignment of lives together toward a given goal. It didn't occur to me at this time to mention I was a Christian, but I doubt that would have dissuaded them either. Anna was persistent.

I told them all (Anna, her mother, father, husband, sister, and probably brother were all in the kitchen at this point, not necessarily focused on me, but attentive to the conversation at hand) that I had no job, no money, and no work visa (don't really know why I said this; it's more likely that Anna's sister is interested in American citizenship than myself becoming a permanent resident of Vietnam).

Anna said no matter for all three protests. I couldn't think of anything else on the spot, so I simply said no (as graciously as I could) and, having finished my meal, went back to my room.

I'm not certain any of them was completely serious about this, but I get the feeling that perhaps everyone but Anna's sister was pretty serious about it. That said, they were all smiles and laughter as we were talking about it.

Perhaps I shouldn't be taking this so lightly, but it just cracks me up; maybe one day my sisters will propose each other off to their suitors. That would be bomb.

I am sick in body, and raucously laughing in spirit. May you be at least as well.


!Noah!