There Are No Secrets In Vietnam Part 127

Yesterday I received the following email from my landlord in Hanoi:

Dear Anthony,

I hear that you are going to work in Indonesia, so i wonder if you leave sooner that the schedule? Sorry for this question if it brothers you!

Best regards,

The Anh

Does this brother me? Of course it does.

Most leases in Vietnam are a minimum 12-month obligation. If it finally happens that I move to Indonesia, I will need to break this 12 month “schedule”.

This is why R's landlady thought she could keep his bond (and his sex toys) when he left.

However, before signing my lease I asked for a clause to be included – that I could only break it if I was transferred to another city. I planned my potential escape early. 'This would not be in my control', I pleaded calmly while adopting a pathetic and thin look on my face. '... but don't worry because it is very unlikely', I said truthfully.

It is painful enough for me to sit in limbo about this, much less drag others through each laborious step.

If it does happen, I will upset some people (especially my landlord).

If it doesn't happen, I don't have to upset anyone.

For this reason, I didn't want to tell the landlord anything until it was 100% confirmed. I didn’t want to worry him until I was sure and could clearly communicate an end date, my plans etc.

I couldn't work out how he could have known.

Then I remembered.

I told one person about this.

ONE!

PERSON!

I wanted to give Hao as much notice as possible to find another job.

Perhaps she spilled the beans when I informed her that she wasn't coming with?

Hao has obviously been using the garage for more than parking her bike. She must be stopping periodically for a little chat with the security guard. He would invariably chat with someone else, who would eventually tell ... my landlord.

As it turns out, the little birdy just sang-sand-sang her heart out.

Every time I leave the apartment I have to tell my security guard where I am going. I'm off to eat, to play, to shopping, to work ... doesn't matter; he gets an explanation each time. This is not for my personal safeguarding, this is just pure and simple Vietnamese nose.

I don't leave them with much to dob about me, except for the occasional late drunken return. Hao, on the other hand, has plenty of dirt to share with the team.

I imagine them laughing about crumbs found around the couch on a Monday morning, or booze bottles found in the bathroom. I see her reenacting my life for the security guard and his extended family ... exaggerated chewing and drinking gestures, followed by a demonstration of her belly and face getting fatter an fatter.

They are sitting there in stitches.

I see her rolling her eyes on leaving, regaling them on exit with a quick tale about shower fungus or toothpaste lids being left off or some other inflated crime. As she roars off on her bike, she leaves behind a trail of shocked faces; mouths agape and frying pan eyes.