Then, in the bathroom a photographer, also French, started to talk to me. Nice enough, but with shades of creepy. His photos were on the walls, and admittedly they were pretty good. He bought us drinks and we sat and talked with him for a while. He introduced his friend Jean. They wanted to know where we were going next, I said we were going to Club Blitzkrieg on Dien Bien Phu Street because they have a killer drink called The Battle Of Algiers. They found this offensive for some reason and I was promptly attacked by Jean. Now, Jean was pretty Drunk and his English was somewhere past drunken recall, therefore I couldn't attempt to diffuse the situation by talking. My French is poorer than Jean's English, all I know are the basics like "I surrender!" which I wasn't about to say. And Dammit! I'm American, I can't back down, we never surrender...(There is no Tet Offensive street in town). So there we were, a Frog and a Yank throwing punches in Hanoi. This is somehow ironic.
Actually, what happened, humor aside, was pretty pathetic and emasculating. I've seldom been confronted with imminent violence much less a real punch throwing, no hesitation fight. What really happened was that Rafael, the photographer, asked me if I would trade my red tie (which I was still wearing to cover up the missing button of my shirt) for his big white beanie. He looked alright in it, but I told him with my whiskey breath, "Naw, I'd look like an idiot in your hat." He, puffed up a little and asked if I thought he looked like an idiot. I immediately saw my mistake and said, truthfully, "No, no you look pretty good. I just don't think I would..." I was interrupted by Jean knocking his forehead against mine. "What you say about my friend! What you say!" Then he grabbed me by the collar. Once the shock wore off a little and the adrenaline kicked in I grabbed his collar and told him to back off. This was followed by me receiving more headbutts and me pushing Jean into a wall. He was a solid, weighty guy. I don't know how I managed to push him or how we broke it off. I do know that Rafael and the bar owner did nothing to help me.
I wanted to leave immediately. But somehow it all got turned around on me, Rafael was offended that I was trying to brush it off, accept the apologies casually and leave even though I was the one who had been assaulted for no good reason.
The Vietnamese do slappy fights and so forth that you see occasionally, but you are hard pressed to figure out a way to offend them. You can walk into any Bia Hoi or restaurant, be loud and effusive and the worst you get is curious stares. (Meanwhile Vietnamese businessmen are yelling Mot, Hai, Ba, Yo! at the limit of their voices and drinking as much beer as they can in one gulp, then slapping each other on the back and tripping on the furniture.) The Vietnamese look different, are culturally and linguistically very different from me and yet I have had few culture clash problems. Walk into a French bar and mind yourself closely.
I hate that "I'm so offended" crap. Where does it come from? Why does it seem so important to many individuals and cultures? I can think of little that that would genuinely offend me. I can think of nothing spoken that would make me punch or headbutt (very odd) someone. Really, its just strange, monkey-like, protect my territory, primeval behavior.
Oh, and thanks be to Jesus I'm not French.
