ISSUE 21
På vej | Trên Đường | On the road
REWRITE - LOC-AN THI NGUYEN
Empty Containers
The other day, I found the bag you knitted for me on my birthday. Well no, it was actually crochet, I almost hear you say – you constantly corrected me, and I constantly kept saying the wrong thing. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. You’d made it using one ball of cheap, glittery purple-pinkish yarn from the craft store, the kind that changes colors. Many evenings spent making and unmaking and making again, because you hadn’t known how to crochet at all before you decided to make that bag. Pink had been my favorite color when I was a kid, but at that point, I didn’t like pink anymore. You couldn’t have known, because I didn’t know how to talk to you, and you didn’t know how to talk to me. It annoyed me, still.
When I moved out, I folded it up, put it in a box and I left it there amongst crumpled up plastic bags and other empty containers. The day I found it, bits of cracked fake leather from some worn, chewed up make-up bag had woven themselves into the yarn. I removed them all, piece by piece, sitting cross-legged on the floor, then washed it in the sink, and hung it to dry in the shower, listening to the water drip on the bathroom tile.
Once it was dry, I filled it with things I would normally put in a bag. The book I’m borrowing from a friend. My house keys, my wallet, my phone. My headphones. Five crumpled up receipts I found in the pocket of my coat, the letters faded mostly to obscurity. My journal and a pen. Mittens for when it got cold. My roommate’s spare drumsticks. The plastic containers I got from you.
I thought about how it really is quite amazing that you could create something so sturdy out of something so soft and flimsy.
I thought about you, and how we had another fight the last time we saw each other. About me not wanting to have kids, about how I shouldn’t have broken up with my ex because he was nice. You apologized the next day with plastic containers: one for store-bought strawberries and cut-up mango, and one for leftovers from dinner, rice, fish, greens. Which is all to say, another crochet bag.
I know this letter is empty. I’ll probably never send it to you. It’s just that it’s always been easier to look at all the things around you, rather than directly at you. I circle around you like a bird, with no place to land. Circling, circling, always in flight, my trajectory drawing your shape. I could draw you in my sleep, I think.
You were right about my ex, by the way. He was nice, I just didn’t know him. I didn’t know how to talk to him. Maybe I got that from you.
I should stop going on and on. All these things that don’t matter. The point is: I’m sorry for not using the bag you crocheted for me. I know you spent a long time making it.
The point is: I’m sorry about all the things I never say.
The point is: I’ll return your empty plastic containers next time I’m visiting. Washed clean.
På vej | Trên Đường | On the road
i. Løs forbindelse
Hey, det er mig. Kan du høre mig? / Hej chi Nga / Hvor er I henne? / Snart Storebælt. Der har været ornligt meget kø hele vejen / What? Hvorfor? / I don’t know. Vejarbejde. Der var ogs traffikuheld, såh / Hvorhenne? / I don’t know. Øhhh, vent lige. Ba? Lige før co traffikuheld o dau? ….. Min far siger det var omkring Fredericia. Men trafikken er bedre nu. / Nåh, okay, I see. Fint nok. Hvornår tror du I er hjemme? / Det ved jeg ik. Måske halv ni? Halv ti mener jeg. Tredive minutter over ni mener jeg / Halv ti. Vent nu bliver jeg selv i tvivl. Halv ni på dansk. Halv ti på vietnamesisk. / Lol. / Har I snakket med bà ngoại? / Du mener ba noi / Well, det er min bà ngoại. Men ja, whatever. Bà nội. / Nej, ik endnu. / Okay, så husk og ring til hende / Ja ja / Bà nội lo hvis du ik ringer. Bare sig I allerede er kommet hjem / Bruh. Vil du have jeg skal lyve for hende? En gammel dame? / Hun kan ik sove ellers / Okay okay. / Nice. Øhm, jeg skal ogs lige sige fra min bà ngoại / Så ba noi. / Min bà ngoại at du skal begynde til undervisning igen / Undervisning? / I don’t know. I tiếng Việt. Hun sagde I havde snakket om det sammen mens du var her / Hov, jeg tror der er lidt dårlig forbindelse her. Khhhh khhhhh / Ej / You’re breaking up / Stop. Hun siger du har virkelig meget brug for det / What? Mit tieng Viet er da average / Hun sagde du forvekslede seng med have / Fordi de lyder ens! Duong, vuon, same shit. / Bro, du sagde lige to helt forskellige ord / Okay, men min mor udtaler dem ens. Duong og duong. Hun har en dialekt. / Men det har du jo ikke / Ik tænk over det / Du staver heller ikke særlig godt / Troooi oi! Så uprovokeret / Sorry. Men seriøst. Jeg synes altså også vi kan blive bedre til at snakke tiếng Việt når bà nội er der. Hun forstår jo ik hvad vi siger / Ja true. Det er bare lidt. Akavet. At tale vietnamesisk med hinanden når vi alle kan dansk / Alle undtagen hende. Jeg synes også det er træls hun altid siger vi skal nói tiếng Việt, men / Hun siger altid vi er dårlige / Men. Og ja, hun kritiserer os. Men du ved. Det er også tarveligt at holde hende ude. Selvom det ik er med vilje / Ja. Jeg ved det godt. Øhm, by the way, glemte jeg mine høretelefoner hjemme ved jer? / Måske? Jeg har ik lige set dem. Jeg skal nok holde øje med dem / Okay. De virker ik alligevel, men tak chi / Selv tak. Vi ses næste gang igå? / Igå. / Ikke også? / Ja, vi ses. Hej hej / Hej /
ii. A lô?
Con chao ba noi / À, chào con! / Ba noi co khoe khong? / Khoẻ. Con có khoẻ không? / Da, con cung khoe. Minh sap ve nha roi / Gia đình con tới đâu rồi? / Uhm, minh sap qua cau, uhm, Storebælt roi / Bà nội cũng nghĩ sao lâu thế mà không thấy ai gọi điện gì cả, không biết gia đình con có về nhà chưa / Uhmm…… Da. Because hom nay co nhieu xe…… thi minh chay hoi… long time… minh bi, øh, traffic jam / Hèn chi! / Da….
Thoi de con dua dien thoai cho me nhe / À / Chao ba noi / Chào con / Hej hej /
iii. Lost in translation
Chào bà nội, it’s me. How are you? I’m doing fine too, a bit tired, but I’m good. I’m just calling to say that we’re almost home. We’re almost across Storebælt now. We’re driving across the water. Yeah, there was a lot of traffic so we’ve been driving for a long time. But we’re almost home now, chị Nga just called to ask me where we are. I guess she was getting worried too. Sorry I forgot to call. And yes, she did ask me about going back to Vietnamesisk skole. I don’t know if I want to yet, I’ve been really busy with normal school. I do wish my Vietnamese was better, though. But isn’t it kind of embarrassing to take classes in a language I’m supposed to be good at anyway? I feel like everyone will make fun of me… nå, oh well! I don’t think I need to get better at reading or spelling, I just need to be able to carry a decent conversation with you. Remember how, when you still lived with us, you’d walk me to Vietnamesisk skole every Sunday? I must have been around ten or eleven. We always walked home through the park with the playground, where we’d sit on the swings and eat müslibarer, and I’d tell you about what we learned, like how nước betyder både vand og land. I still remember how you said that in Vietnamese, a country is normally called đất nước, that is, soil water. Đất nước Việt Nam. Soil water Vietnam. Đất nước Đan Mạch. Jord vand Danmark. Because both the earth and the water are pieces that make up an entire country. You said that if a country can also be called nước, without the earth, it means that all the people who opfandt the Vietnamese language used be surrounded by only water. Because a word carries history. Or something like that. You probably don’t remember that day. I’m not sure how I remember, while not remembering the language in itself. When I was very little, tiếng Việt stuck to me like a second skin, and now, my own mother tongue is like the old poster on the wall in chị Nga’s apartment, that just won’t stay because elefantsnottet isn’t sticky anymore. Maybe, this is just the natural passing of time. Everything changes: you, me, even the meanings of words. Maybe one day, they’ll invent some hybrid language that both you and I can understand. A mind language, where we could beam our sentences into each other’s heads, pre-sculpted to perfection. Speech would be easy. Still, I think I’d be a whole lot better at Vietnamese if I talked to you like this more often! But I’ll hand over the phone to my mom now. Chào bà nội!
On the road | Trên Đường | På vej
i. Loose connection
Hey, it’s me. Can you hear me? / Hi chi Nga / Where are you? / Almost across Storebælt. There were like, a shitton of cars on the road / What? Why? / I don’t know. Roadwork. There was a car accident earlier too, so / Where? / I don’t know. Uhm, give me a sec… Ba? Earlier co car accident o dau? … My dad says around Fredericia. But the traffic’s much better now / Okay, I see. Cool. When do you think you’ll be home? / I don’t know. Maybe at half nine? Half ten I mean. Thirty minutes past nine I mean / Half ten. Wait, I’m getting unsure now too. Half nine in Danish. Half ten in Vietnamese. / Lol. / Did you talk to bà ngoại? / You mean ba noi / Well, it’s my bà ngoại. But yeah, whatever. Bà nội / No, not yet / Okay, remember to call her then / Yeah yeah / Bà nội lo if you don’t call. Just tell her you’ve arrived home safely / Bruh. You want me to lie to her? An old lady? / She can’t sleep otherwise / Okay okay / Nice. Uhm, I also need to say, from my bà ngoại / So ba noi / My bà ngoại that you need to take Vietnamese classes again / What? / She said you talked about it while you were here / I think my connection’s loose. Khhhh khhhhh / Come on / You’re breaking up / Stop. She said you really need it / What? My tieng Viet is like average / She said you mixed up bed and garden / Because they sound the exact same! Duong vuon, same shit / Bro, you just said two completely different words / Okay, but my mom pronounces them the same way. Duong and duong. Whatever. She has a dialect / But you don’t have a dialect / Don’t think about it too much / Also your spelling is poor / Trooooi oi! So unprovoked. / Sorry. But seriously. I think all of us can get better at speaking tiếng Việt when bà nội is there. She doesn’t understand what we’re saying / Yeah, true. It’s just a bit. Awkward. Speaking Vietnamese when all of us speak Danish / Everyone apart from her. I also think it’s annoying when she tells us to nói tiếng Việt, but / She’s always saying we suck / But. Okay yeah, she criticizes us a lot. But you know. It’s not fair to shut her out. Even though it isn’t purposeful / Yeah, yeah. I know. Uhm, by the way, did I forget my headphones at your house? / Maybe? I haven’t seen them. I’ll keep an eye out / Cool. They don’t work, so it’s whatever, but thanks chi / Yeah, no problem. See you next time, igå? / Igå. / Ikke også? / Yeah. Bye / Bye /
ii. A lô?
Con chao ba noi / À, chào con! / Ba noi co khoe khong? / Khoẻ. Con có khoẻ không? / Da, con cung khoe. Minh sap ve nha roi / Gia đình con tới đâu rồi? / Uhm, minh sap qua cau, uhm, Storebælt roi / Bà nội cũng nghĩ sao lâu thế mà không thấy ai gọi điện gì cả, không biết gia đình con có về nhà chưa / Uhmm…… Da. Because hom nay co nhieu xe…… thi minh chay hoi… long time… minh bi, uh, traffic jam / Hèn chi! / Da….
Thoi de con dua dien thoai cho me nhe / À / Chao ba noi / Chào con / Bye /
iii. Lost in translation
Chào bà nội, it’s me. How are you? I’m doing fine too, a bit tired, but I’m good. I’m just calling to say that we’re almost home. We’re almost across Storebælt now. We’re driving across the water. Yeah, there was a lot of traffic so we’ve been driving for a long time.
But we’re almost home now, chị Nga just called to ask me where we are. I guess she was getting worried too. Sorry I forgot to call. And yes, she did ask me about picking up Vietnamese classes again. I don’t know if I want to yet, I’ve been really busy with normal school. I do wish my Vietnamese was better, though. But isn’t it kind of embarrassing to take classes in a language I’m supposed to be good at anyway? I feel like everyone will make fun of me… nå, oh well! I don’t think I need to get better at reading or spelling, I just need to be able to carry a decent conversation with you.
Remember how, when you still lived with us, you’d walk me to Vietnamese class every Sunday? I must have been around ten or eleven. We always walked home through the park with the playground, where we’d sit on the swings and eat müslibarer, and I’d tell you about what we learned, like how nước means both water and land. I still remember how you said that in Vietnamese, a country is normally called đất nước, that is, soil water. Đất nước Việt Nam. Soil water Vietnam. Đất nước Đan Mạch. Jord vand Danmark. Because both the earth and the water are pieces that make up an entire country. You said that if a country can also be called nước, without the earth, it means that all the people who made up the Vietnamese language used be surrounded by only water. Because a word carries history. Or something like that.
You probably don’t remember that day. I’m not sure how I remember, while not remembering the language in itself. When I was very little, tiếng Việt stuck to me like a second skin, and now, my own mother tongue is like the old poster on the wall in chị Nga’s apartment, that just won’t stay because the blu tack isn’t sticky anymore. Maybe, this is just the natural passing of time. Everything changes: you, me, even the meanings of words. Maybe one day, they’ll invent some hybrid language that both you and I can understand. A mind language, where we could beam our sentences into each other’s heads, pre-sculpted to perfection. Speech would be easy. Still, I think I’d be a whole lot better at Vietnamese if I talked to you like this more often!
But I’ll hand over the phone to my mom now. Chào bà nội!
Gulls
By the window,
seagulls rip my neighbor’s trash bag open
Out flies empty bags of chips,
candy wrappers,
meat containers,
They fight each other for the scraps,
claws ripping through the air,
Enormous wings beating,
The other day I saw a gull eat an entire pigeon,
It was brutal, the red beak, its pale yellow eyes
I don’t know if the city shaped the gulls, or if the gulls shaped the city
Waste scatters in the wind, on the grass, on the pavement,
Waste rolls down to the road, gets carried to the city
A pause in the gull-fighting
There is no food in this trash bag, only food-skeletons
The gulls circle and scatter across the road,
crying, like police sirens,
or vultures
in search of a new carcass