Beauty Rising Read Online Free PDF

seemed strange to want to call a man dainty, but that description fit best. I was twice the man he was, well at least physically.
    “So what you going to do?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Okay. I help you.”
    “No, no, it’s okay.”
    “No, I help you. I have American friend.”
    “I just need to call my Mom back in America.”
    “But you have no money?”
    “No.”
    “Okay. I help you. Yes, yes. I help you. My American friend help you. You know, my father soldier too. He fight many Americans – kill many Americans – cause Vietnam don’t like when America makes colony in Vietnam.”
    I tried to ignore him.
    “We fight Chinese – make them leave many times. We fight French. Make them leave. Then Americans. We fight Americans make them leave. But don’t worry. I love Americans. I have American friend. I take you there.”
    As my driver droned on about Vietnam’s past, I couldn’t help but picture the wind carrying my dad’s ashes all over the heart of communist Vietnam. What a way to honor him! But, in fact, I was not honoring him. Not really. What was I actually doing here? Why was I so eager to fulfill this request? If dad had told me his story about the girl and Newbert and Johnson in his will, would I have jumped at the chance? Hardly. His voice. The sound of his voice enticed me, brought me close, and gave me a glimpse of how it might have been between us.
    We had been driving for nearly an hour and a half when we finally glimpsed Hanoi from the top of a bridge over a river.
    “This is Song Hong, Red River. And we go over Thang Long Bridge. Built by Russians. You know, America bomb us, but Russia build us bridge. But okay, I like Americans. In the past, I had to study Russian at form two. I hate studying Russian. Nobody wants to speak Russian. Everyone wants to speak English.”
    At least I had a friend.
    “This bridge – Thang Long Bridge. You know what it means? Ascending Dragon Bridge. Long time ago, Hanoi not called Hanoi. It called Thang Long. Ascending Dragon. You know why?”
    I frankly didn’t care why.
    “Why?”
    “Because Vietnam emperor travelled along Red River and suddenly a mighty dragon comes out of the river and flies into the sky. So he called this place ‘Ascending Dragon’ and he made this his new capital. Now almost one thousand years, Hanoi be capital of Vietnam.”
    The river looked muddy – muddy like a flooded B52 hole in a rice paddy. How anything good could rise out of such a filthy, muddy stretch of water I would never know.
    We weaved through the chaotic streets of Hanoi with our taxi often being a stranded, motionless island surrounded by a constant stream of motorbikes, which flowed haphazardly on all sides. I missed my Lyndora streets. Tan continued his lecture on the historical significance of every intersection and building and temple that we passed. After another twenty minutes, we pulled over in front of a large complex of buildings fronted by a massive metal gate.
    “My friend here. Foreign Language University. He teaches English. Come. He help you.”
    I got out of the taxi and walked behind Tan up to the guard house. Tan spoke quickly to the guard who barked out some instructions and let us in. We walked past two four story, mustard yellow classroom blocks which had open windows with wood shutters tied back. Tan taught me all about the Vietnamese education system, but my mind didn’t wander far from the banana trees or the crowded festival with the girl in white.
    “He’s right here.”
    We walked up to a modest looking two story cement guest house painted yellow. Everything seemed to be painted mustard yellow in this country. Tan knocked on the first wooden door and after a few seconds a young, trim, white American peaked out with an eager smile.
    “Tan. How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
    “Hello Mr. Jason. I’d like you to meet another American.”
    “Hi,” Jason reached out to shake my hand.
    “Hi,” I said. “I’m