I posted my first and last tearjerking story about a PRC girl 3 years back. Some brothers here might have read it before. Now, inspired by Dhornyboy (
“100% true encounter with Shenzhen girls..”
) and hardon ("
Have sex in camp"
) I want to share my second story too. Perhaps you brothers out there could provide me with some advice.
just write how you feel from the start. do not worry about comments as i feel there will be a lot of bros here like me who will appreciate good stories esp with local flavour. waiting liaozzz…..
Wednesday, 29 August 2007. Caravelle Hotel. I had set foot in Ho Chi Minh City earlier in the day. I was part of a large entourage invited by our business partner to this wonderful city to attend a conference. Much had been said about Vietnam. People had raved about India and China when they opened up. People flocked there in droves. Now, the region’s attention is on Vietnam, this relatively young, communist country with a market economy. One which had been ravaged so many times by imperial powers in days past, but has since put the past behind it and looks to the future. Today, Vietnam is full of vigour and life.
This evening, as I stood at the rooftop bar of this beautiful 5-star hotel, rubbing shoulders with executives, saying Hello and exchanging business cards with associates – basically, doing the “corporate thing” – I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful night scene laid out before me. Ho Chi Minh City is a mix of old and new. Old shophouses and new buildings stand side by side, all lit by beautiful neon lights. In a corner I could see the Rex Hotel. Yes, I remember seeing that when I did my pre-trip research. But no, I wasn’t about to set foot in that lodge anytime soon. I did book myself a room for the extra day I would be spending in this city but it’s somewhere else.
By 9:00pm or so the crowd was thinning. Normally you don’t expect people to stay all night for this sort of cocktail receptions. You just show your face, talk a bit about the market and exchange some cards, and you’re done. This is even more so when you realise that each time you go on a business trip, your work piles up. Every hour away from your computer means more email waiting in your Inbox. I went to the buffet table – Yes, I’m a glutton – for my last serving of food.
“Hello, I’m Hoang. How do you do?” I looked up to find a Vietnamese man extending his hand to me. He belonged to a local distributor of the partner, Atlas Computers, that invited me to this event. Just when I was about to leave, someone had to chat me up. OK, so I would be stuck here for another good half hour!
“Hi, my name is John. Nice to meet you.” The following few minutes, Hoang introduced his business associates, all belonging to Atlas Computers Vietnam, to me. After the customary handshakes and exchange of business cards, I made small talk, complimenting Atlas on its early entrance in this burgeoning economy and how happy I was to be here, etc. You have to say some good things when you receive invitations to events, especially when travel and accomodation is paid for.
In about 15 minutes, the conversation topics had sort of dried up. Everybody could see the weariness in one another. I thought I finally had a chance to go. I wasn’t that interested in meeting this bunch of people to begin with, right? However…
Hoang: OK John, we’re leaving. Nice meeting you tonight. I hope you enjoy your stay in Saigon. I’ll leave Yen here to keep you company.
Yen was one of Atlas’ local staff Hoang had introduced me to earlier. She was young, perhaps 25, and was an Account Manager based in the company’s local office. I couldn’t believe my luck. The whole bunch of folks had decided it was time to go home, but made sure they left a girl with me. Perhaps it’s Vietnamese culture to make a visitor feel comfortable? Maybe I was thinking too much. I looked around to make sure there was nobody I knew around me.
I tried to get to know Yen better. She had been working in Atlas Computers Vietnam for some time. This was one of those events that she and her colleagues were asked to attend, just because an important group of people was coming to town. Like most Vietnamese, she rode a bike. She explained that most ordinary Vietnamese cannot afford cars because of the high import taxes. Then we talked a bit about the city that she lived in. I learnt that the districts in Ho Chi Minh City were not all denoted by numbers. Yes, we’ve heard about District 1, District 2 and so on, but there were also some districts with proper names. She lived in this district called Tan Binh.
Somehow, the conversation topic shifted to the adjoining disco. This hotel that I stayed in has a disco that is adjacent to the rooftop bar. Yen said that she frequented this place. Sensing there was room for further development, I made the first move.
Me: You said this place is nice? Why don’t we have a drink there?
Yen: OK!
And off we went. I made sure I was the gentleman by offering to carry her laptop. The hotel disco was huge but rather empty. We managed to get ourselves the worst seats in the house, a pair of sofas next to the live band. All other positions had been taken up. We didn’t like this place. Apart from the need to turn your heads to see what the band were up to, you’d probably emerge from this outlet deaf. We asked for a change of seats.
The waitress led us up a flight of stairs to the second level. “This place looks posh,” I told myself, as I admired the glass steps that I tread on. Yen and I were given a pair of seats that faced each other, with the band facing our sides. Sitting up there, the music was still relatively loud, and I found myself leaning forward whenever Yen or I talked. Eventually, she signalled for me to bring my sofa closer to her. How could I refuse?
I observed Yen closely as we sat, soaking in the music from the live band. She had long but slightly curly hair, and carried herself well. The type of stuff that makes a good Account Manager. She looked average and didn’t appear to me as ravishing or sweet, but perhaps my taste was a little different from others'.
I tried to keep the conversation going. A couple of times, we talked about work, and how our companies worked closely with each other, etc. Yen explained how the accounts that her team manages were broken by verticals, and how sometimes she had to chase potential customers so hard for that elusive order, only to realise it would be booked only the following quarter.
During the whole of the 45 minutes or so we were at the disco, not a soul went onto the dance floor. No matter how hard the American band tried to cajole customers to come up, nobody did. Yen told me Vietnamese were shy by nature. People normally waited for others to go up before they themselves did. I could understand this perfectly well. I couldn’t see myself volunteering to start the ball rolling too. I was getting bored.
Me: This place is a little dead.
Yen: Yes, I think so too. Maybe it’s because it’s a Wednesday night.
Me: Hotel discos are normally like that. You don’t expect the kind of crowd you get in an outside joint.
Yen: You know, there’s this place that I go with my friends. It’s more happening than here. You don’t see this sort of situation there. There’re always people on the dance floor.
Me: Oh is it? Sounds interesting.
Yen: Yeah. That place is not far from here. It’s called Apocalypse Now.
Me: Can we go take a look then?
Yen: Sure…
Me: Are you in a hurry to go home? After all, you’re supposed to be out for this cocktail reception…
Yen: No problem. I’ll just call home to say I’ll be back late.
With that, I asked for the bill. Somehow, my card took forever to come back. Soon, we were on our way to the lobby.
Yen and I hopped into a waiting cab. “This is getting fun,” I thought. It was only my first day in the city and I was off to something already. Going dancing with a girl I had known just an hour before. The rest of my colleagues were probably having their late dinners or cooped up in their rooms catching up on work, but there I was, flirting with some local girl. Yen interrupted my thoughts.
Yen: OK, we’re here.
Me: Huh? So fast?
The ride had taken less than 5 minutes.
Yen: Yeah, it’s very near the hotel.
Me: Hmmm we could have walked here.
Yen: I know, but I’m lazy… *sheepish grin*
Taxis are cheap and plentiful in Ho Chi Minh City. A short ride costs just 15,000 Dong, equivalent to S$1.50. Actually, we didn’t even cover half the distance in the first stage of the fare structure. Yen handed the notes to the cabby.
We got out of the vehicle and made our way into the nightspot. Apocalypse Now is apparently well-known in this city’s nightlife scene. It’s the old lady of Saigon, the mother of all nightclubs. Dated as it was, it was still very popular. Stepping past the entrance with a Chinese-style facade, we entered a small but cosy hall. This place isn’t anywhere near the size of Zouk. A closer match would be the Zouk Wine Bar. Yen and I made our way in and found ourselves an unoccupied table.
While analysing the drinks menu, I couldn’t help but notice the numerous uniformed security guards who were stationed in strategic locations. Yes, you do see bouncers in Singapore’s discos, but they don’t don uniforms, nor are there so many of them packed into a small hall, within such close promixity of one another. These guards resemble police, out to arrest people with the slightest offences. Yen and I ordered our drinks.
The dance floor was a tiny area between rows of tables, right in the middle of this section of the outlet. From what we could see, there was nobody dancing. I was disappointed.
Me: Yen, you said this place is happening? I don’t see anyone dancing.
Yen: Yeah, I don’t know why too. Usually you won’t have problems joining a dancing crowd.
Me: …
Yen: Why don’t we start the ball rolling?
Me: Heehee, I’m shy…
Yen: Come on…
I didn’t budge. Regardless of how sociable I am, I still have that reserved side in me. Yen got up from her seat and swayed her body on the spot, her hands moving in elegant moves.
Me: Wow! *big smile*
Yen smiled back at me while maintaining her moves. For a long while I just sat there, enjoying the loud music, the crowds, and of course, Yen’s dance. I finished my drink and it was time for another. I scanned the menu and saw something that I didn’t understand. I motioned to Yen to come nearer.
Me: Yen, what does this line say? *pointing to the menu*
Yen came very close to me. I must have been lucky. Probably because I was seated with the right posture and because of Yen’s position, when she came over, she almost leaned on me, and I could feel her breasts pressing on my arm. I didn’t want to move.
Yen: That is a type of cocktail. I think there’s whiskey and some fruit juice.
I pretended to ask a few more questions, just so that I could continue to feel Yen’s mammary glands. But of course, good things don’t last forever. A while later, it was time for her to move away and rejoin her own dancing world.
At one point, I returned from the Gents, only to find that a burly guy had occupied my seat. He was ogling at Yen. His friend at the next table noticed me looking and motioned to me. He showed the punching action with his hand, as if to tell me, “He’s tackling your girl. Whack him!” By now, the burly guy was aware of my presence. He promptly stood up and shook my hand. I smiled at him and regained my seat. As he left, he gave me that thumbs up sign. Till this incident, I had not realised Yen was so attractive.
As the night wore on, the crowd thickened. Some people had gone onto the dance floor. By then I had had a couple more glasses of alcohol, so I felt a bit bolder.
Me: Yen, let’s go dance!
Yen: I’m already dancing! See? *pointing to herself*
Me: I mean, let’s go to the dance floor!
Yen: … *continue to dance by the table*
Me: Let’s go!
I grabbed her hand gently and pulled her to the dance floor. For the next hour or so we danced to the music. I really enjoyed myself that night. Seldom do I have a chance to visit a nightspot at home. Due to family commitments, discos and even pubs are a thing of the past. The most I can look forward to are official partner events held in nightspots. Isn’t that pathetic? Now, I was alone in a foreign place with no restrictions. I let my hair loose.
Yen was a mean dancer. I noticed men around us stealing glances at her. Of course, I too took the opportunity to survey my surroundings. There were lots of kids at this place. Many young Vietnamese boys and girls were hard at work, dancing to the beat and responding enthusiastically to the DJ’s calls with shouts and whistles. There was a noticeable number of Caucasians too. I witnessed some young and pretty local girls hooking themselves onto the white men, whose hands were all over them – almost. I wondered why Caucasians always had such luck. Beside where Yen and I were dancing was a table with a group of young adults. There was one girl, perhaps in her late 20s, sitting quietly, enjoying the music. A couple of times our eyes met, but I didn’t do anything. I already had my hands full with Yen.
I got bolder. I held Yen by her waist and she didn’t mind. She gave me a smile.
Because Yen’s company and mine are partners, I didn’t dare do anything stupid. Furthermore, there was no signal whatsoever from her that she was willing to go further. She treated me only as a friend, or perhaps an acquiaintance. We continued dancing this way for a few more moments.
It was past 12am. I had read that in Vietnam, government regulations called for nightspots to be closed at midnight. However, this didn’t seem to be enforced here. Anyway, it was for the better, wasn’t it? Yen was getting tired.
Yen: John, shall we go? I need to give a presentation tomorrow.
Me: Can we stay a while more? I’m sorry…
I genuinely liked the atmosphere at Apocalypse Now. I liked my time overseas, alone. Yen bugged me again. This time, I didn’t want to inconvenience her anymore.
Me: OK, 10 more minutes, we’ll leave this place, okay?
Yen nodded her head. Before 10 minutes were up, I signalled for her to leave. Once again, I grabbed her hand. I led her to the exit, and pretended to look shocked as I pretended to realise that her wallet, which she had left with me for safekeeping, was missing. She didn’t look surprised. She knew it was a prank. She had been around, I thought.
We bade farewell to this place and hopped into a cab. The plan was for her to send me back to the Caravelle, then head for her office, where she would pick up her bike.
Me: Yen, thanks for keeping me company tonight. I really enjoyed myself.
Yen: No problem. I enjoyed myself too.
Me: Can we come again on Friday?
Yen: Friday… Perhaps not, as I have a dinner with my boss. But tomorrow night I’m okay.
Me: Oh no. I have a dinner tomorrow. Not sure what time it’ll end. You really cannot make it on Friday night?
Yen: No, I’m sorry I can’t. Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow, after your dinner ends? Let’s see how things go.
Me: Well, okay…
In no time, we arrived at my hotel. I bade farewell to Yen and proceeded to my room. I was dead tired from all the dancing. It was past 1am when I got back to my room and I was in no form to do any work. I did have tonnes of mail to respond to but put them off till later. I would get up earlier and get some work done before meeting the rest for breakfast.
However, I did do one thing. As a form of courtesy, I dropped a quick email to my new contact, Yen, thanking her for the night and wishing that we could meet again on Friday.
Thursday was an eventful day. I got a scare in the morning. While atteding a meeting, I realised that my credit card was missing. I tried hard to recall when I had last used it. Did I use it at Apocalypse Now? No, I paid everything by cash. Did I use it at the hotel disco? Yes! See, I told myself. This is what you get for flirting! You were so engrossed in your conversation and intoxicated with alcohol that you forgot your card! During one of the breaktimes, I frantically made my way up to the disco. Thank goodness the door was open, but the place was nearly empty. Apart from the band doing some practising, there was nobody whom I could approach. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I surveyed the cashier’s counter. Nothing. Next, I came to a small wooden rack hanging on the wall. It contained pigeon holes and the structure looked like a lost-and-found box. I found my card intact, still wrapped in the receipt. Phew! At least I didn’t have to run to disco to search for it.
After a full day of meetings and presentations came the highlight of the evening. As promised, there was a gala dinner. This function was held in one of the top restaurants in the city. As usual, small talk was made in between mouthfuls of food. Soon, it was time to head back to the hotel. I was itching for action.
Back in my room, I called Yen. She sounded like she had just woken up.
Me: Hello Yen, this is John… Sorry did I wake you up?
Yen: Hi John. Yes… I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well.
Me: Oh, well, in that case, I presume we’re not meeting?
Yen: Yeah. I’m sorry.
Me: It’s okay. Maybe we try tomorrow ok? Give me a call after your dinner. Hopefully we’ll be able to meet.
Yen: OK. See you, and sorry again.
Me: No problem. I’ll wait for your call on Friday. Have a good rest. Bye.
Yen: Bye.
I was disappointed. Even though Yen and I did not get too far the previous night, I enjoyed her company. I was hoping that through more contact, I could achieve something. Now it seemed that even the possibility of doing that was remote.
I picked myself up. Never mind if Yen couldn’t keep me company tonight, I told myself. I would go out alone. I had a quick look at the printouts about the local nightspots I had brought with me from Singapore, and dressed up. I left my room just past midnight. It was already Friday, 31 August 2007.
Yen’s decision not to meet me was the turning point of my short stay in Vietnam.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
raverboy
Bro Tomahawk,
You yearn to return, I yearn to go. PM me if you would like a travel partner.
Difficult lah, brother raverboy. Got family commitments. Cannot justify going overseas on holiday without the Queen. But, if you work in a company where you think both companies could benefit, well, I wouldn’t mind going on an official business trip.
Thanks also, brothers hellwarrior666 and michael_368 for your support. Like Dhornyboy, I wish there were more comments.