Drinking with the Locals

I hold up a small clear shot glass and say the incomprehensible Vietnamese toast.  I clank glasses with my host and fellow guests before downing my sixth shot of rice wine. Either the room is beginning to move in circles or I am beginning to feel the effects of homemade hooch. I have two choices: to stop drinking (the smart choice,) but I could offend our host -- the creator of this strong concoction or I could eat lots and lots of food and drink lots of water to counter the effects. I opted for choice two.

Wes and  I had such a good experience on our first home stay we wanted to try it again in Cuc Phuong National Park in Vietnam. We were staying on the outskirts of the park in a village with the Muong minority people. The Muong used to live deep inside the parks interior nestled in primary rain forest so dense entering it seems like another country.

Cuc Phuong was the first forest to be turned into a National Park in Vietnam.  Ho Chi Minh had seen to it to make it a park and made a point that it was important to protect forests for generations to come.

For the Muong people that lived in the newly formed park boundaries this meant relocating to protect the forest -- especially since they used slash-and-burn techniques to clear forest patches to plant crops. The government moved all the villages to the outskirts of the park to protect the land and the creatures living in it. (Monkeys, turtles and other animals are still be hunted inside the park boundaries for food and medicine.)

We stayed with a host family in a stilt house with a beautiful view of the surrounding valley and rice fields. Unlike our first home stay this one was not so primitive. Running water, electricity and a flush western style toilet were readily available. But the experience was still wonderful.

As we waited inside the house for dinner we heard the unmistakable hum of motorcycles echoing though the valley, and were getting closer. Our guide informed us that we would be sharing our quarters with two others who were stopping overnight here on their way to Hanoi. The two guys were American. We quickly made friends and prepared for dinner. One of them asked if we were ready to drink the rice wine. Apparently our host made his own wine and liked to share it with guests... and drink it.

Our host family prepared a feast large enough to feed the entire village.  We had Green Papaya Salad, spring rolls, spring rolls wrapped in leaves (my favorite) Pork with veggies, fried bean curd, grilled meat, cabbage, rice and much more.

We all sat in a circle on the floor around plates of steaming food. Each of us used a small bowl to hold our food in and chop sticks. Almost immediately after dinner began the rice wine was brought out. It was bottled in two crumpled litter water bottles and looked exactly like water. Shots were poured and first our host toasted our arrival at his home. After that the toasts kept coming. The two American guys toasted our host, we toasted our host, our guides, our health, our shoes, you name it, we toasted it! After every couple of shots our host would breath out loud and shake all the participants hands, (a sign to me that the alcohol was taking hold of his system as well.)

Once the alcohol hit my system I asked if could have smaller shots, (not participating was out of the question). It only occurred to me then that I was the only woman at the dinner table. The men chuckled and poured smaller shots for me. Wes was getting a little pink in the cheeks from the alcohol.

We all joked, told stories of our travels (some of us participated in pull-up competitions) and had a great time.

Our guide prepared tea and motioned for me to join him. I took this as my chance to escape the toasts. As the night wore on our hosts prepared our sleeping arrangements. Everyone slept on the floor on mats with blankets under mosquito nets.

Wes had a little more rice wine than I did and fell asleep as soon as he laid down. I lay awake in the heat listening to the sounds of bugs humming outside, someone snoring in the room and the occasional farm animal wandering under the house. We had a lot of fun that day and a lot to drink. I said a silent prayer to the rice wine gods not to inflict a hangover on Wes or I before falling off to sleep.