Đọc bài viết này bằng tiếng Việt tại đây
For someone earning his living by doing translation like me, language is simply a sweet poison which you know can be deadly but you can’t help yourself sipping and feeling the liquid flowing through your throat, absorbing into each vein before spreading out and paralyzing your brain and killing you. Born and growing up in Vietnam, yet I have never been, and perhaps will never be, confident enough to say I understand my mother tongue. Every time facing a new translation task, I shamefully find myself a foreigner struggling to understand what lies behind each little black-and-white letter, what secret they are hiding, what poison dose they are preparing to lure me to the endless death.
“Quà” and the activity of “ăn quà” or “eating quà” are such a case. “Quà” can hardly be simply and somehow carelessly translated into “gift” or “present” in English (simply it doesn’t make sense when we say “eating a gift”). Nor into “street food” as I think it will lose the sense of something pleasantly irregular, something “not-so-everyday”: Perhaps “quà” goes beyond a definition of something concrete. Rather, it refers to a state of being: a bit of happiness, a bit of longing, a bit of curiosity, a bit of this, a bit of that. And just like that it has become integral in any Hanoian’s life, a topic that can be shared by anyone, a bridge that can connect even strangers, and I believe, a magical lifebuoy as much as the stories of the legendary Scheherazade.
And I would like to make an excuse basing on such interpretation for my keeping the word “quà” in the lovely piece of writing below. (And I understand if you call me “a cheater” when going as far as here). Click here for the Vietnamese version which was written by my coffee mate.
Thu Ngo
“Quà” – a gift of peace in the alleys
It turns out that Hanoi still has one or two proper things. One of them are definitely alleys. Streets can be bustling with vehicles in a hurry, drowning in noises of urbanisation and dazzling for glass-walled buildings. Yet, alleys are always filled with freshness. And if one happens to turn into an alley, he will definitely find one or two vendors selling “quà”. And as natural as such “cháo sườn”, literally translated as “rice congee cooked in pork stock” is usually a kind of “quà” sold there.
Memories about Hanoi of the late 8x born generation like me and my friends are not so much alike those of previous generations. No matter how hard and how far we try to trace back, we cannot find a single trail of a Hanoi of subsidy with “tem phiếu” or “sales coupon” in our memories. Hanoi of mine in the late 80s was not as hard. Yet, it is still memorable in its own way. My Hanoi was afternoons covered in a raincoat when sitting at the back of my dad’s bike, going home from my kindergarten. My Hanoi was late “quà” offered in my kindergarten with the legendary two-dish menu, “cháo sườn” and yogurt, for every day throughout the year. Perhaps it was because “cháo sườn” was a popular “quà” for kids then. Adults were rarely seen eating “cháo sườn”. The dish was so popular that I firmly believe any 8x-ers like me should have his own “cháo sườn” memory.
During the height of the “nostalgia” trend, a “cháo sườn” stall in Ngo Huyen, an alley at the heart of Hanoi, suddenly became a hot spot with its specialty, “cháo sườn quẩy ruốc”, rice congee cooked with pork stock served with local deep-fried youtiao and pork floss, which is actually a creativity of the stall. The business is full of Hanoi’s flavor in a sense that only females in the family, mother, daughters (or daughters in-laws) involved. The father, just as much as any statement of the role of males in the domestic life, used to be really vague. Only when the business got incredibly busier as late as some years ago did the customers start seeing him selling rice congee for breakfast time.
There is an unwritten rule: in Hanoi, good “quà” can only be found deeply hiding in alleys. Food lovers have no other choice but patiently wander around and keep searching. In alleys, sellers and customers, customers and customers are normally neighbours. Chatting while eating, sometimes about fun things, sometimes about daily quarrellings between neighbours.
My job gives me a privilege to wander around the city more than others. And thus, been to more “quà” stalls in alleys. It is also because of the kindergarten’s “cháo sườn” memory, I am particularly interested in “cháo sườn” stalls. And perhaps it is another rule when the best “cháo sườn’ are often near kindergartens. I have discovered one at the end of Alley 54 Hai Ba Trung Str next to the back gate of 20-10 Kindergaten; the taste of its congee reminds me so badly my childhood.
Congee here is cooked in the conventional way with finely ground rice. The congee pot is wrapped in layers of cloth to keep it warm, when served giving off a nice scent of rice, and especially remaining thick until the last spoon. The congee here is only accompanied with deep fried youtiao, some pepper and chili powder sprinkled on top – that’s enough to warm up your body. The congee lady lives in the same alley. She always talks to the customers in full sentences, which is in fact strikingly different from the assumably rough speech of Hanoi’s retailers and traders. Always wrapping a tissue around the spoon before giving to the customers after cutting youtiao, she never wants to bother the customers with the oily feeling. If the customers are on the phone or busy doing something, she will gently put the bowl down for them rather than ask the customers to take it with one hand.
She has sold congee for kids there for nearly twenty years. The job is just like a comfort for her ungranted wish. Not until 10 years after her marriage could she bear a baby girl. Unfortunately the girl left her at the age of three due to an innate heart disease. She said, Hanoi gives her a chance to live in a space full of kids. “It is like a way for me to cultivate her mind”. And perhaps that’s why she rarely speaks harsh to anyone…
After talking to her, stepping out of the alley, I once again was overwhelmed by the noise of vehicles honking on streets like a sleeper was suddenly awaken from a gentle dream.
Thu Ngo
September 1st 2015