Modern Viet Kieu [p.5]

out very late—and if they do it’s all men drinking beer to get drunk. I don’t really know any Viet Kieu here. I don’t like them too much. American Viet Kieu have given the word a negative connotation. I get the feeling they want to show off.

Christine: Almost all of my friends here are foreigners. I don’t have many Vietnamese friends outside of my family. I just can’t relate to most Vietnamese people. At the end of the day it’s always about money with them, and I don’t want to build a friendship around that. 

Van Linh: I am not completely either one. I am very French. But I want to know the other part better. I am proud when a stranger here takes me for a Vietnamese. If I can walk down the street without someone saying “buy this!” or taking me for a foreigner, that’s an amazing feeling.

Hoang: I feel more like a foreigner. People expect me to act like one. If I act or dress like a local, they think I am lower-class. With my old friends, I’m still Vietnamese. But with strangers, I’m a foreigner. Because the fact is, the minute I show the passport, I get to walk right into the consulate instead of having to line up with everyone else on the pavement.

Loc: I was raised French. We never celebrated Tet at home, didn’t have a family altar or religion. I always felt at home in France. But my second home is still Viet Nam.

Landon: I have no problems with my identity. I feel American when I’m in the U.S. When I’m alone I feel American, and sometimes when I’m walking the streets alone here I feel Vietnamese. I think my students relate to me better because I’m Vietnamese.

Laurence: I guess I identify more with Westerners because we have to deal with the same frustrations here, like being ignored or overcharged. There’s a real bond between Canadians in Viet Nam. But I’m a citizen of the world. Thanks to globalization, you can have a dad from Morocco and an Italian mom. Montreal is so multicultural that you can be five different colors. When I’m here, though, Vietnamese people tell me I’m Vietnamese, not Canadian. It depends on who I meet. I don’t feel lost. I see this country through Canadian eyes. I feel at home here because I decided to make it home, but I could be at home anywhere.

Linda: I consider myself Vietnamese. I always say I’m Vietnamese when people ask my nationality, because that’s the way I look. With my Vietnamese friends, I can’t just sit and chill and not say anything. They’re always hyped up and chattering about past experiences and fun times. We go swimming, fishing... but after my first year I started to miss Western friends, and felt I needed a bit of a balance. With foreigners there’s a wider range of conversation—we can talk about politics, sex. Now I see my local friends every day for lunch and my Western friends on weekends. My local friends are very caring and into helping me. I’m lucky.

Quoc: Growing up, the idea of Viet Nam was a repressive one, not on a political, but on a personal, familial level: obey your elders. We had less freedom than American kids, which was always a point of contention with my mom. She’d say: “You can’t do what your American friends do because you’re Vietnamese.” Mom didn’t understand when my sister wanted to go to a dance—we were simply not allowed to date. So when I was a kid I felt like a Vietnamese growing up in America; now I feel like an American in Viet Nam.

NHA: How do you find the food here? Do you go to the market and cook? 

Voughn: The C word? I’m hardly ever at home, and going to the market for cheap, tasty food is more feasible.

Landon: I have my favorite pho place. It costs more to go to the market and buy ingredients than to eat out.

Loc: I love eating things that are considered strange in France, like durian and dog meat.

Laurence: I eat every meal out. Food is cheap and good, and I don’t have the time to cook. Besides, we only have one pot, no rice cooker and four forks.

Linda: A typical night out with locals is all about eating—and fast. After dinner we’ll stop to drink sinh toá, then go and eat more. I spent my first year here eating outside on tiny lanes, places I’d never have found on my own.

NHA: What do you miss about “home” when you’re in Viet Nam? And vice versa?

Loc: Cheese and foie gras. I prefer the weather here. It’s always cold and rainy in France. And my family here is bigger, which is fun.

Van Linh: Cheese, friends and Ba ngoai. The last time I got back from Viet Nam the Parisian streets seemed sad to me, empty. Here there’s noise, action, vendors, it’s animated. People+crowds+noise=vui.The people are on the streets. In France, people come home from work and go inside. There’s an emptiness there. And you can’t get pho in the morning so easily.

Tho: I miss sport. It’s difficult to work out in the heat. And the sports I like are reserved for the elite here: fishing and gymnastics. France is definitely home, because I understand the system and how it functions. Here everything is vague. People say that Viet Nam has evolved, but I’m not so sure. We don’t know our place as Viet Kieu. People have no confidence in the system. Everything changes on a whim. But people are open and accessible, which I like. You can contact them at the last minute and see them whenever —they’re more spontaneous than we are