Quy Nhon forever in love with the scent of time

Yet "the afternoon has flown by" since then. Actually, I had a few occasions to go to Quy Nhon but I didn't "see" Quy Nhon. Those were a couple of times when I went to conferences, met with journalists, partied until late at night and then returned to the hotel to lie down like a cockroach. Early in the morning, I said goodbye to Quy Nhon with the feeling of a guilty person.

The other day I sat there listening to Ngo Tin's song Quy Nhon, filled with memories. So many emotions. The lyrics flew, drifting with the music under the misty blue sky of Quy Nhon. The song evoked each story, each road, each street corner, each image, each memory. I fell in love with Quy Nhon a long time ago, now the song made me fall in love again. Quy Nhon always has the Twin Towers next to the Twin Bridge, so it's only right that I love Quy Nhon twice as much. I remember someone "philosophizing" in a party, probably just a joke, but it makes sense. That the heart always whispers two things. 1: Love is always right. 2: If love is wrong, review rule 1.

I went to Quy Nhon. The reason was clear but my steps were hesitant. "Red summer", the main road of more than 20 kilometers from my house to Duc Pho High School ( Quang Ngai ) was plowed up because of bombs. Every few kilometers, a row of barbed wire was stretched across. On both sides of the road were wild fields with the smell of burnt grass. Later, when I read "Oh, the bleeding countryside fields/Barbed wire pierces the afternoon sky" (Nguyen Dinh Thi), I often thought of this "gunpowder-filled" road.

My neighbor named Hung, who was two grades above me, invited me to withdraw my transcript and rent a house in Quy Nhon to continue studying. A week later, he and I were students at Nhan Thao High School (now Tran Quoc Tuan Primary School).

That year, the war had not yet reached Quy Nhon. The boarding house at 29 Ky Con (now Ly Tu Trong Street) had two more boys, but no one around knew. It was the city. It had to be like in the countryside, if a chicken passed by the alley, the neighbors would know whose chicken it was, let alone a stranger. This place taught two clumsy students who had come to the city everything: going to the market, cooking, doing laundry, studying, reading, watching movies, flirting with girls...

To school, I chose the shortest route because I was afraid of being late. But after school, I liked to wander around Quy Nhon, in the words of the young people today, "lost". The streets were sparsely populated. Many old trees had thick foliage. It seemed like the streets were still rustic. The arches were sparsely covered with bougainvillea. A few bamboo shoots suddenly waved. The sidewalks here and there were still fresh traces of brooms sweeping the yard. Many attics with open windows. Some sections looked a bit like Hoi An's old town today.

Dao Tien Dat

I love Hong Kong martial arts movies. Kim Khanh Cinema, Le Loi often shows this type of movie. By the way, I learned how to whistle loudly like a car horn because I was imitating a character in a movie. One day, I was following a group of "ao dai" students from Trinh Vuong school, Gia Long street (now Tran Hung Dao street), and I whistled, making the whole group turn around. Oh my god, I almost fell over because... every girl was beautiful, a very bright and classy beauty.

Back then, no one was calling for "reading culture" but students were avid readers. Nguyen Hue Street had many book rental shops. Just by paying a few dozen dong, you could read books all week. I liked books by writer Duyen Anh, Muong Man, and Tuoi Ngoc Weekly. Hung liked Russian and American literature and loved Doi Dien magazine (sold at the beginning of Vo Tanh Street).

One day, Mr. Huong (who taught French) "spoke lyrically off topic". He read and praised the poem "Waves still beat on the strait" by poet Le Van Ngan, published in Doi Dien magazine. He spoke like a saint, I rummaged through Mr. Hung's stack of books and read this poem. The poetic images were both real and strange, the verses were thrown aside, the repressed emotions, the anti-war attitude, the oppressive mood and the heaviness of the times were quite clear. Immediately, the poem "stuck" in me. I loved Quy Nhon more, liked free verse, and was less fascinated by the sweetness of the "ivory tower" type of lyrical love poetry.

Once, three student teachers from Quy Nhon Pedagogical School visited Hung, two boys and one girl. I cooked a poor meal to entertain the guests. That day, I, a 10th grade student, only knew how to... eat and stay quiet. The three teachers who were about to graduate were worried, not knowing where the "mission order" would send them to teach. If it was in the "leopard skin" area, when would they return? Hung talked about the first IBM baccalaureate exam he was about to face, about enrolling in university in Saigon, about dodging the army. All the student teachers knew how to sing Trinh's songs. I borrowed a guitar from the house next door. The "most beautiful girl in the room" named Hoan played the guitar herself, singing "A Vietnamese girl passing through the village, walking in the night filled with the sound of gunfire..." Her voice was sad and sorrowful.

Hoan has big, captivating eyes. Hung said that all three of us (him and two student teachers) are crazy about Hoan's eyes. No wonder he often sings the line "beautiful eyes that all three of us love". He said this secret "love" contest is very tough, even more so than the baccalaureate exam. On Sunday, he invited me to take the train to Cho Huyen (Tuy Phuoc) to eat spring rolls, and stop by to visit Hoan.

Tran Xuan Toan

I also remember Hiep near the boarding house. Hiep was from Van Canh, had a gentle face, red lips, and often smiled. Hiep went to Quy Nhon to work as a hired hand. She had a small wooden cabinet selling cigarettes. I often bought cigarettes from her. One day I teased her, "translating" the name of Capstan into... the poem "the windy coat of my heavy love" (I learned this by stealth). Hiep laughed and said it was so funny. From then on, every time I bought cigarettes in small amounts, she "encouraged" me with an extra cigarette. When I ran out of money, I ran out of cigarettes. But I was determined not to buy on credit to maintain my "honor" as a scholar. One night, I passed by, Hiep ran out and stuffed a whole pack of Capstan into my hand. At that time, my whole body was numb.

In Nghia Binh province, Quy Nhon streets were a bit cramped. Conical hats, conical hats, bicycles, modified motorbikes, walking, carrying poles, market rice and river water... everything. I attended a literary composition camp, and got to ride a U-oát car to the Yaly hydroelectric plant. Shirtless children with flat buttocks and big bellies ran after the car, laughing loudly. Their clear laughter echoed from the dust. The day the camp ended, I went to the provincial hospital to visit a relative who was lying on the floor because there were no beds. When I told him, poet Le Van Ngan carried a bag of fruit and an old mat and went with me. He sadly said: "I have no money left, this is love". I was moved. I loved him more because I respected him.

When I was studying in an advanced pedagogy class in Quang Ngai, Mr. Tran Xuan Toan (Quy Nhon University) came to the first class. We were surprised to recognize each other. It turned out that a long time ago, the two "poets" had had poems published in the same Nghia Binh newspaper. While I was missing them, he brought me the cool Quy Nhon. We "did" a Quy Nhon night in Quang Ngai. The land and people of Quy Nhon, past and present, were clearly present in the song of the talented musician Ngo Tin: "Still there are the Twin Towers, the Twin Bridges, forever in love with the scent of time...".