The Breakup

Topic: someone relying on strangers

The Breakup

“I want to break up.”

My abusive boyfriend is an alcoholic. He drinks to have “fun”, but his kind of fun is filled with indoor boxing matches. His punches were persistent and often. I needed to get out, and I needed to escape this relationship.

“You will never find someone who loves you, I’m the best you can get. I will be with you forever, you will do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

“I’m going, you can’t stop me!”

I saw it coming, my martial arts training kicked in before I could think. I blocked his hook to my face, but his jab busted my jaw. I literally saw “red”, I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry. I started kicking, scratching, doing anything I could to fight this asshole.

I left him on the floor laying in a pool of his own urine. I drove straight to my parents house, and became a refugee. I fled from my war torn relationship.  

…

It was a Saturday morning, lovely and bright; a typical North Queensland summer. It had been 4 months since my break up and my face was finally normal. The bruising was my badge of honour, I fought and I won.

Marching with purpose, I stormed into Flight Centre and decided on the spot that I was going overseas. I need the space and I want the adventure. I have never travelled by myself, but hey I was 23, what could go wrong?

“So what were you thinking? Maybe South East Asia?”

“Vietnam.”

“Ok are you sure? There’s quite a few offers for other locations.”

“Vietnam. I’m going by myself and I know it’s cheap over there. Book it.”

Before I knew it, I was $2000 out of pocket, but had the ticket and I was to leave in two days.

…

The flickering lights were blinding. Dragging my suitcase I looked around and felt a sense of dread.

What the fuck have I done?

There were chickens casually strolling around. Beggars lining the sides of the room, chancing themselves, trying to persuade the gullible tourists for their newly converted Vietnamese Dong.

The town was called Danang, and it was a beautiful place, albeit the surroundings of garbage and rats the people are absolutely gorgeous – but I didn’t know that yet.  

I was walking out of the airport and the pick-up service I had arranged (and paid for!) was not there. I was trying to ask around but no one spoke English. I start to panic. There were seedy looking taxi drivers that I’m sure would’ve ripped me off. The hotel was at least 20km away, I didn’t want to walk that far in the dark. Just as panic starting to make itself at home in my stomach, a small woman maybe in her 40’s or 50’s starting beckoning me over. She’s said “come! Come!” Waiving her hands frantically. I had to look around, surely she’s not talking to me?

“I don’t want to thanks…” I replied, I am scared.

“Come! Come! I look after you!”

Thinking back I realise that this was probably a really bad idea, like it could have gone really bad. But I’m a dickhead and chose to follow her.

I don’t know what it was…but there was something so trustworthy about her. Her English was broken but you could tell she understood what I was saying.

We started walking, I was dragging my bags and trying to keep a lookout. I’m following this strange lady through houses that look like sheds and shacks, they look all joined together. We snaked our way through shanties, family gatherings and men gambling. Soon she stopped and looked back at me. She gestured for my bag. I wasn’t keen on giving away my stuff. Oh my god what am I doing? For all I know I could be getting sold into a sex slave ring…. Oh my god I’m going to die.

She grabbed my bags with a strength that was deceptive of her size. She disappeared through the clearing, lifting what looked like a sheet that was acting as a door way.

I stood frozen, now genuinely afraid that my bags are now gone and I’m probably now going to be killed!

“Come! Come!” I hear from the other side of the sheet. My heart is pounding. Shaking, I pull back the sheet and sigh in relief. Behind the ‘curtain’ was a lovely little family, all sitting on the floor having dinner. They had a little scruffy dog that immediately came over for some pats and cuddles. The lady brings me over and tries to introduce me to her daughter – her name was Ahn.

“This my daughter, she study, she need tourist…” she gestures at me to indicate that I was the tourist. Ahn was smiling in a shy way, she looked at me with a glint in her eye.

“I would like to take you to my class tomorrow, to show my class. I’m studying tourism.”

Relieved that she spoke perfect English I started to ask all the questions I was dying to ask.

“So your mum brought me here from the airport, so I can be your show and tell?”

“Yeah pretty much. We all agreed that a young woman would be a good choice. Ya know, wouldn’t mind or be hard to get along with.”

I started laughing in relief.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY!

Its been 10 years now and I still keep in touch with Ahn and her family. I stayed with them for a couple of days and met many of their relatives. The average family in Vietnam live on $50 Australian a year. They work extremely hard and live in less than humane conditions. With all this, they are the happiest people I have ever met. I went to Ahn’s class the next day and the other students were delighted. They spent 40 minutes asking me questions about Australia and what they could do as a Tourism Agent. Ahn today runs a tourism company with her husband and son in Danang. Meeting Ahn and her gorgeous little family was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.