Let Peace Begin With Me

Elsbeth writing…

I had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Cinderella was chased down by more ravenous wolves. Perhaps Little Red Riding Hood would be a better analogy here.

I prepared all day on Saturday for Easter Sunday. I cleaned my room and a bit of the house, I went to the market (a dingy, dark place) to buy my Easter brunch of fresh, brown eggs, veggies, a pealed pineapple, and even a nice bouquet of tropical Easter flowers. I topped up my bike with petrol, bought some more minutes for my phone, and traveled to the big church next to the Mother Mary statue in the fishing village around big mountain to check what time they had Easter service. From my limited knowledge of Vietnamese, I gathered that the sunrise service was truly at sunrise—5:30 a.m. I was excited to go to an Easter Sunday service in a Vietnamese Church. I wanted to see what it was like.

The next morning I woke up at 4:30 a.m. I wanted to get to church a little early, since I assumed that it would be crowded and I wanted to get a decent seat. I packed my purse with my camera, cell phone, sunglasses, and wallet with the limited amount of cash I always carry with me for safety sake. Little did I think that the pockets on my kaki Capri’s were deep enough to hold the needed items for traveling across town. I quietly made my way downstairs and out the gate. I started up my motorbike (now finally fixed with a 70 engine). It purred to life and off I went in the cool of the morning. The moon was still up in the sky and twilight still lingered as I drove along the harbor. I was actually up before most Vietnamese! I didn’t think that was possible, yet there were still many people along the boardwalk having their morning constitutional and doing their light exercises. It was refreshing to be out at this time.

I was lost in thought as I climbed up the side of the mountain—the ocean to my left and the rocky cliff to my right. All of a sudden I felt a presence behind me and a motorbike zoomed so close to my bike it touched it. There were two teenage boys wearing white shirts and the one on the back quickly reached towards the hook that latched my purse to the bike. I always kept the purse nestled on the rack between my legs feeling it would be safe enough there and ignoring the warnings people gave me that I shouldn’t carry one at all. I loved that purse. I was perfect—lots of pockets, classy with a bit of an Asian flavor. Then before I knew it my purse was quickly moving away from me and then forever out of my sight. The boys laughing at the clever little trick they had pulled. It was all a blur, but from what I remember I had tried to kick and move his hand away. I tried to pull my purse, but I only had one hand to spare; the boy had two. I screamed and chased after them, but my bike—even with the new 70 engine—was not fast enough around those windy curbs. I drove on towards the church in shock. Trying to see where they went, but no luck. There was a group of young guys parked across from the church at a café. I thought they might be the thieves, but I couldn’t be sure. It was such an unexpected blur. I didn’t even think to look at their license plate (if they had one). I slowed down to look if they had something small and black in their hands, but one of them saw me looking and started to whistle, most likely thinking I was checking them out.

I pulled into the church to gather myself for a few seconds. The grounds were dark, but church-goers were making their way to the church on the hill. I briefly thought about going inside, but the parking place was dark and there was nobody to watch the bikes. A woman pointed towards the church telling me that there was parking there. I tried to start my bike…and it didn’t start. “You cannot be serious,” I thought. Of all the things I needed now was to be miles from home without a cell phone, money, and a bike that didn’t start. I tried again and again. Nothing. I rolled it around the parking lot and finally asked a Vietnamese man heading towards the church to help me kick start it. Only then did I realize that I had the keys in my hand. I knew then that I had truly lost my mind. I heard him tell his wife in Vietnamese that I had forgotten to put my key in the ignition. Yet another stupid Western woman, I suppose.

I made my way back home, wanting nothing more than to be behind the safety of my locked gate. On the way back I saw two boys with white shirts on a dark bike stopped along my street in front a little house. A group of young people are always gathered there in the middle of the night as I’m coming home from work. I slowed down to look at them while one of them was tying his shoe, but as I looked into my mirror he quickly jumped on the bike and they sped down an alley. I know they saw me as I slowed down and stared. I thought this was suspicious, but how can I know and what can I do? Maybe I’m paranoid….

As soon as I got inside I knocked on Ellyn’s door and told her what happened. Then I called my parents on Skype and talked to Sarah on the Skype chat. They gave me some perspective. I hadn’t lost relatively that much and I had escaped unscathed. I had retained control of my bike. It could have been much worse—like Ellyn who fell off her pedal bike. In fact, she was mugged at the same place I was. Obviously this is a doggy area. Perhaps it was even the same little twits. I had some breakfast, read my bible, and then went into work to talk to the office staff. They called the police and I went with one of the office workers to the station. He translated everything, I showed him where it happened, and he helped me file a police report. Many thanks to him. I don’t expect anything to happen or to be recovered, but it gives me a little piece of mind to have reported it. Immediately after filing the report I went on a bit of a shopping spree. I bought a new, slimmer wallet (one that can fit in my pockets easier), a cell phone from the same place I bought my old one (it was slightly cheaper than my old one and blue; my old one was cheaper than I thought), and a new pair of “designer” sunglasses. I need to be more careful about keeping these things attached to my body in the future.

The rest of the afternoon I stayed in the house and got a few things done. I fell into a dead sleep for an hour. I was drifting off at the police station sitting in the open room with no doors, no computers, and cracked walls. The lazy mid-morning heat was getting to me. Then I met the ladies from work at school to walk up big mountain. We parked our bikes in a side street parking lot, found a quicker, steep path up the rocky side of the mountain. I was sweating buckets as usual, but it was a good workout. The top of the mountain is being shaped into a park. Eventually they’re going to have gondoliers going up from the base of the mountain. I thought it was nice up there. It’s a very peaceful and beautiful place. The view is amazing. As we walked down the paved road the sun was setting red across the sea—sailor’s delight. The path is lit and there were quite a few Vietnamese people making their way down. The city lights are gorgeous—like Christmas in an impressionist painting with bright, candy colors. We also stopped along the way for sugarcane juice. I love that juice.

I drove with Ellyn home and we stopped on All-Night Street to buy shakes and movies. Haha, I bought High School Musical, because all my kids are obsessed with those movies and I want to see what they’re all about. At home I freshened up and made my brunch. It’s so nice to cook again. I haven’t made brunch in Vietnam yet. That was one of my specialties and it tasted so good. I listened for the tenth time to the Easter Tape dad had converted into MP3 format and sent me. I know every song by heart. It was so comforting to have a little bit of Easter here. Also, thanks grandma for the Easter gift! I loved it. Oh, mom and dad, I just got the packing slip today for the package you guys sent. Anyway, I watched Dan in Real Life instead of HSM. Love that movie.

Like my parents’ advised, I kept myself busy the rest of the day. Only until 6 a.m. this morning did I wake up and really think how horrible that was and how much worse it could have been. Thank the Lord that I stayed on my bike and only swerved a little. Since then I have been freaking out every time I see two young guys on a motorbike or when someone comes close to my bike. I can’t help but wonder when the next attack is going to happen. How much worse will it be? Lesson learned: You can’t let your guard down for one minute—not one. I have been relatively careful, but it was one stupid, stupid mistake to take my purse instead of putting things in my pocket when I was traveling across town in the early morning. I need to make sure I’m with someone when it’s dark out. I’ve learned with Vietnamese guys that you can’t give them an inch—you can’t even glance at them or they think you’re coming onto them and they take the opportunity to whistle and make catcalls. Even if you don’t give them the time of day they’ll whistle. Maybe other women think it’s flattering, but I find it rude, immature, and offensive. I’ve learned to wear an angry (for use of a better word) look on my face as I’m traveling—a look that says I’m not going to take any crap from you. And that’s how it is. You have to constantly keep your guard up especially when you’re a petite, blond-haired, blue-eyed woman. Still, I can’t let myself live in constant fear…but always safety first. As dad said, that’s the price of traveling to strange lands.