I replied, “I hope you don’t think that’s all I want to do. I loved the Oceanographic Institute.”
“I know you did. But you can also learn something at a nude beach. Let’s go.”
We got into our car, and Susan directed the driver to a place called Hon Chong, which is a big stone promontory jutting out into the South China Sea.
From the top, we had a spectacular view of the headlands to the north, and Nha Trang to the south. The sun was over the mountains to the west, and the South China Sea was blue and gold. “Very nice,” I said.
She led me to what appeared to be a huge handprint in a big boulder. She said, “This handprint was made by a drunken giant male fairy as he fell on these rocks.”
“Takes a lot of rice wine to get a giant fairy drunk,” I said.
Susan continued, “He was ogling a female fairy bathing in the nude, down there on Fairy Beach.”
I looked down the mountain and saw the beach, but I didn’t see any female fairies, nude or otherwise.
Susan said, “The giant got up, ran down to the beach, and captured the female fairy. Sort of like what happened to me yesterday.”
That wasn’t the way I remembered it, but I know when to keep my mouth shut.
“Despite his aggressive behavior, they fell in love and began a life together.”
“That’s nice. And lived happily ever after?”
“No. The gods were angry at them for what they had done.”
“Did the gods live in Washington?”
“Some place like that. The gods sent the male fairy off to a re-education camp.”
“Bummer.”
“Right. But the female fairy waited for him for centuries.”
“Good lady.”
“Yes. But she was heartbroken, and thought he would never return. So she lay down and turned into stone. See that mountain?” She pointed to the northwest. “That’s called Nui Co Tien — Fairy Mountain. That peak on the right is her face, gazing up at the sky. The middle peaks are her breasts, and the peaks on the left are her crossed legs.”
I looked, and yes, you could imagine a reclining female with her legs crossed.
Susan said, “One day, the male fairy returned to this spot and seeing what had become of his lover, he slammed his hand down over his old handprint, where he’d first seen her bathing on the beach. He was so grief-stricken, he died, and he, too, turned to stone.”
I didn’t say anything for a while, then commented, “Sad story.”
“Almost all love stories have a sad ending.” She asked, “Why is that?”
I replied, “I think when the affair begins illicitly, and when everyone around the lovers is hurt or angry… then the affair is going to have an unhappy and probably tragic ending.”
Susan looked off at Fairy Mountain. She said, “More importantly, though, the lovers stayed true to each other.”
“You’re a romantic.”
She asked, “Are you the practical type?”
“No one ever accused me of being practical.”
“Would you give up your life for love?”
“Why not? I’ve risked my life for less important things.”
She gave me a kiss on the cheek, took my hand, and we walked down the mountain.
That night, we went to the new resort called Ana Mandara that we’d seen on the way down to the Nha Trang docks, and we had a first-rate dinner of Westernized Vietnamese food. The place was owned by a Dutch concern, and the clientele was mostly European, but there were a few Americans as well.
A nice combo was playing at poolside, and we had a few drinks, danced, talked, and held hands.
Susan said, “After dinner at the Rex, I went home that night floating on a cloud.”
I replied, “I think I felt the same way.”
“You sent me away. What if I hadn’t come back?”
“Weren’t you told to stick close to me?”
She replied, “Only if you wanted my company, or needed something. If not, I was supposed to disappear. But I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to phone you. Then, I decided to just come back and join you for dinner.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said, but I recalled thinking at the time that it wasn’t as spontaneous as Susan was suggesting. Then there were the inconsistencies in the Bill Stanley story, and a few other things that didn’t quite add up. The elephant grass swayed, but there was no breeze; the bamboo clicked, a little closer now.
We left the Ana Mandara, and walked back to the Grand Hotel. We’d kept both rooms, but Susan’s room was the one where I slept.
We made love and lay close together on our backs in the bed, surrounded by the cocoon of the mosquito netting, the bed garlanded with branches of Tet blossoms, the orange-scented candle flickering, and the boric acid on the floor.
We watched the paddle fan spin lazily overhead. A breeze blew in from the open balcony, and I could smell the sea. The next day, Friday, was to be our last full day in Nha Trang, so I said to her, “Have you arranged transportation back to Saigon?”
She was running her foot over my leg. “What?”
“Saigon. Saturday.”
“Oh. The trains stop running Saturday. That’s Lunar New Year’s Eve.”
“How about a car and driver?”
“I’ll try to arrange that tomorrow.”
This didn’t sound like a definite plan. I asked, “Will that be a problem?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve never tried to travel around Tet.”
“Then maybe you should leave tomorrow.”
“I’m not leaving early. I want to spend as much time with you as possible.”
“Well, me, too, but—”
“How are you getting to Hue?”
“I don’t know. But I need to be there.”
She said, “Every plane and train has been booked for months.”
“Well… maybe I should also leave tomorrow.”
“You should if you want to try to buy yourself a place on the train.”
“Could I get a car and driver tomorrow?”
“We’ll try. If all else fails, there’s always the torture bus. No reservation required. Just buy a ticket at the terminal, and jam yourself in. All you need are elbows and dong.”
“What do I do with my dong?”
“Dong. Money. Stop being an idiot.” She said, “I took a bus once, Saigon to Hue, just for the experience, and it was an experience.”
“Maybe we should see about getting out of here tomorrow.”
“Yes, that’s what we should do first thing tomorrow.”
Part Two. She informed me, “I was supposed to go to a Tet Eve house party with Bill.”
I didn’t reply.
She said, “Everyone we know will be there. Americans, Brits, Aussies, and some Catholic Viets.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going now. I’ll just stay home and watch the dragon dances from my window.”
“You’ll thank yourself in the morning.”
“My housekeeper will be with her family, of course, and most of the bars and restaurants are closed, or open only by invitation. So, maybe I’ll just warm up some pho and get a bottle of rice wine, put on a Barbra Streisand album, and get to sleep early.”
“Sounds horrible. How about the Beach Boys?”
“I suppose I could go to the party, but it would be awkward.”
“Would you like to go to Hue with me?”
“Oh… that’s an idea.” She crawled on top of me and said, “You’re such a sweetheart.”
“And you’re trouble.”
“What are they going to do to you? Send you to Vietnam?”
She kissed me, my linga got longer, and we made love again. It was less than an hour since we’d done this, and I hadn’t had my bird’s nest soup today. This was fast becoming like my last R&R in Nha Trang, except then, I was a lot younger. I pictured myself meeting Karl in Bangkok on crutches. At least I was tanned.