Rain, Strong Tea and Huế Station

A day of pouring rain in Huế carries a chill into every corner – only people’s hearts stay warm! A friend told us about a little spot right across from Huế Station, where a few tea ladies have been setting up for decades, so we braved the rain to get there.

The ramshackle tea stall, with a few rain-soaked tables and chairs tucked away in a dark corner, tugged at my heart. The tea lady called herself “dì” (auntie), in the familiar way people in Huế address one another.

She told us that her mother had sold tea here to passengers waiting for trains since 1976. My heart grew even fonder as she laid out a pot of tea, a plate of pumpkin seeds, a plate of watermelon seeds, a plate of peanut brittle and a pack of pipe tobacco, set beside a bamboo water pipe and a thermos – things that could not be more Vietnamese!

Simply sitting down, I suddenly felt a deep love for these ordinary things my eyes had long grown used to, and pride welled up in me for being Vietnamese.

Whenever I meet friends from abroad, I proudly introduce myself: “I am Vietnamese.” During a conversation with director and writer Xuân Phượng at Huế University, I remember her saying that before the age of ten she never thought about being Vietnamese – until one day she saw a classmate step on the shadow of her country’s flag. A strange, sharp discomfort stung her heart, and later she chose a life devoted to her country.

That moment of realising “I am Vietnamese” is truly precious! I have been reminded of it many times in my life. Tonight, once again, at Huế Station, in the rain, beside strong tea and the flicker of an oil lamp.

Tonight the oil lamp looks faint beneath the bright electric lights, but that does not make it any less meaningful. The tea lady recalled that in the old days, Huế Station was not lit up the way it is now.

Across from the station ran a long strip of light, made of tiny glowing dots from the oil lamps of tea stalls lined up side by side. Their light was magical, even though the lamps were not only for lighting but also for customers to light their pipe tobacco.

Gradually, the tea stalls dwindled, replaced by all kinds of eateries, cafés and drinking spots… Only about three stalls still keep the simple ways of the past, and even then it depends on the weather.

Some days, like today, there is only one. Travellers passing through the station perhaps meet these old things only by chance. We count ourselves lucky guests who got to enjoy a full scene of old Vietnam.

I am not sure whether the tea lady loves the cultural beauty of the old days or keeps her traditional set-up simply to make a living.

But one thing is certain: thanks to the few people like her who still do this work at the station, young people like us get to live in a gentle atmosphere, embraced by things that are familiar not only to us but to generations before.

I am Vietnamese, and I am proud of it!

_Published in Quảng Nam Newspaper, October 2024