My friend An had asked me to accompany her to her massage parlor a few weeks earlier, so this Tuesday, I decided to take her up on her offer. An is a former student of mine, married, with two young daughters, to one of the many Korean men employed by one of the many Korean companies doing business in Viet Nam. An's family, like the majority of locally employed Korean families, is set up in a nice serviced apartment, complete with a regular cleaning service and a driver. The company pays their bills as well as covering the expenses for their daughters education in one of the highest rated International Schools in the city. All in all, a pretty nice package.
An spends her days, after preparing breakfast and getting her husband and children off to work and school, enjoying her leisure time having massages, lunches, shopping with friends and the occasional golf outing, a popular pastime among Korean women in Viet Nam.
On our agenda today was lunch and a massage.
I left for An's around 9:45, her apartment now being within walking distance from our neighborhood and met her at her apartment where we spent some time catching up before leaving for our 11:00 spa appointment. On the way down, An called her driver and asked him to meet us at reception.
An's driver chauffered us to her massage parlour - what I may soon come to consider MY massage parlour at less than $4 for an hour long hot stone massage in a real spa - where we luxurated in the relaxing atmosphere of the spa for a soothing 60 minutes of pampering.
After our massage, An called her driver, who again appeared from wherever it is he spends his time between appointments and scooped us up to bring us to one of An's favorite Chinese Restaurants. She had suggested a restaurant that she said, "I find alright, but westerners seem to like," but happily directed her driver to the Chinese option after I begged off any place that "westerners seem to like," prefering to be taken to her favorite Asian spots.
After a lunch of wonton soup, seafood fried rice and delicious shrinp dumplings, An's driver again picked us up, only to drop us off around the corner at Annam, one of the city's gourmet grocery stores which sold the organic vegetables and cleaning supplies that An and I had been discussing over lunch. Once inside, An made a few small purches and I picked up one of my new favorite sweet treats in Viet Nam - an almond pastry bar.
As we were riding back to my house where I was to be dropped off before An left to pick her girls up from school, both of us munching happily on my almond pastry bar, I thought to myself, that while I wouldn't ncessarily want to live the encapsulated life of a Korean Housewife in Viet Nam, I wouldn't mind tagging along on a few more outtings like today.
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