Phu Quoc

It’s not very often that I get a chance to make love to a woman, perhaps once a year or so, if that. This is
something that I was reminded of rather often as I walked thru the summer streets of Saigon, so when
such a rare opportunity presents itself to me, for better or worse, I feel as if it marks time in a certain
way. I remember reading somewhere of how the famous philosopher, Rene Descartes, who I suppose
must’ve also been a surgeon as well, once either said or wrote somewhere of how, ‘every surgeon
carries around with him a personal graveyard of all the souls he’s lost, everywhere he goes’
And I think that, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, the same can be said about a lonely young man,
who is not so good with women; he too can carry a number around with him; that of the different
women he’s slept with. To me this number is more so a visual map of my personal history, than any
form of bragging rights— not that I’d really have much to brag about or many people to brag to if I
wanted to, which I don’t particularly.
Anyway last night, after not having made love to someone for awhile, though the last time was still
somewhat heavy on my mind, I found myself with a girl again.
I met her on Phu Quoc island off of the western coast of southern Vietnam, where I’ve settled for a
while to work on a novel of mine.
I booked a flight to the island a few days back as I felt like I wanted to get out of Saigon; the place felt
too much for me; too loud, too garish, too much tourism, too little nature, too many constant reminders
of my unsated desires and loneliness.
I’d been in Saigon for about a fortnight. I had a little room off of Bui Vien street, the main tourist drag.
Large roller shutter doors were locked up over the front of my hotel at midnight and you had to loudly
knock on them if you wanted to come back in any time after then.
Ms. Nga, the pretty, short, 30 something caretaker, would then grumble to herself as she reluctantly got
up from her sleeping mat behind the front desk to unlock the shutters for you.
‘Why you always come back so la’ hey?’ she would often grumble to you as she did this, or other things
to this effect, ‘It no goo’ It no goo’ for me’
My room was on the second story of the hotel and had its own ensuite bathroom. The view out of its
only window was of a brick wall, about a foot away from the glass, making the place always near entirely
dark unless you had a light switched on.
The idea of a beach, a veranda in front of a bungalow perhaps, to sit and work at, appealed to me a lot.
And I’d seen nice photos of Phu Quoc island in the various travel agencies around Bui Vein.
I’d also looked the place up online and read some nice things; of how there were very beautiful pristine
beaches there and of how some 60% of the island was buried in jungle.
‘I could rent a motorscooter and drive out to the jungles’ I’d thought to myself in Saigon, ‘and there’ll be
nature, animals, adventure... And hopefully you might make friends with the fellow travelers on the
beach too’
My flight came into Phu Quoc island at about 7 o’clock in the evening.
And as I stepped out of the air conditioned airport into the oppressive tropical heat, towing my roller
suitcase behind me, a hustler came up to me. ‘You need a cab man?’ he asked me.
‘There aren’t any buses or anything are there?’ I replied.
‘No, no buses man’ he replied with a slight laugh, ‘only taxi. You want taxi? I can get you taxi, ver’ goo’
pri’
‘Oh great, here comes the fun part where I get financially sodomized, right…?’

‘What?’
‘Nothing man. So how much?’
And after some bartaring with the man, I caught a cab to the tourist district. I didn’t particularly like the
sound of that, the tourist district, but I supposed it was a necessarily evil if I hoped to make friends,
which I could spend time with when I wasn’t writing.
Not far from where my cab driver dropped me out at I found a beach resort with concrete bungalows for
10 dollars a night, a price, which I diligently knocked down from the initial quote of 20.
I put my stuff in my bungalow and laid down on my bed, with my noisy ceiling fan rattling away above
me. And I watched the end of Dirty Grandpa on my laptop, which I’d started on the plane. And I found it
rather funny, and I then decided to check out the beach.
I’d learned from the resort’s staff, when I’d first checked in, that the beach was in easy walking distance
from the resort; that I just had to keep heading down the hill from my bungalow and I wouldn’t miss it.
And as I made my way down the hill the patchy grass soon gave way to sand, and I could also make out
the faint sound of the surf crashing away in the distance.
There were occasional palm trees about me and I could also hear cicadas and other hidden bugs droning
away in the distance.
At the very bottom of the hill there was a small, about two metre or so high, brick abutment, then below
this was the beach. And I noticed where there were some concrete steps set into the middle of the
abutment. It was high tide and the waves were coming right up to the base of the abutment. And I
slipped my sandles off and left them beside the top of the steps. I then rolled my jeans up and started to
make my way down the beach.
There was an orange crescent moon in the sky and a tapering line of orange light quivered over the
otherwise dark waves until it disappeared off over the horizon. And I could see the silhouttes of more
palms in the distance before me. And I listened to the crash of the surf and the droning of the bugs as I
walked on and I enjoyed the feeling of the wet sand on my bare feet.
Suddenly a deep fast wave got the bottom of my rolled up jeans wet. ‘Fuck’ I said to myself as I walked
back from it a little.
After awhile I saw some lights in the distance and walked up to them, to find that they belonged to a
beach front bar. I spoke to the owner behind the bar and learned that the bar is the only one open on
the island, as it is off season now.
And I got to talking to a young woman and young man at the bar. I had no money on me but the man
offered to buy me a beer, which I graciously accepted. I asked the pair if I was imposing on anything, but
the girl told me not to be silly.
I drank my beer, and exchanged some light hearted travel anecdotes with the pair.
I promised to buy a second round for the group to show my appreciation for the beer the young man
had just bought me. And I also told the pair that whilst I was back in my bungalow getting my cash I
could also get my sketchpad, so that I could make a drawing of the pair. And they seemed happy with
this, the girl in particular.
After I’d finished my beer I set off back to my bungalow and later returned with some money, my sketch
pad, a box of crayons and some pens all stashed away in my worn old canvas satchel bag.
‘Are you sure I’m not imposing on anything here?’ I asked the pair again before sitting back down with
them.
‘Yes, I would say so, really, don’t be silly’ the girl replied.
She then asked me if she could see my drawings. I told her sure and watched as she contemplatively
flipped thru my sketchpad. And I then bought us another round.
Once I had my sketchpad back I did a rudimentary, yet sincere sketch of the pair in it, in black crayon.
And the two of them seemed to like my sketch when I showed it to them.

‘Really, you must tell me if I’m impossing on anything here’ I told them again.
‘Really, it’s fine’ the girl replied, ‘you don’t have to keep saying that’
We continued to drink and and talk of places we’d been to and were going to and I learned of how the
girl was traveling to Thailand the next day.
After a bit she excused herself as apparently she had to get up early the next morning.
Not long after she left the young man did as well and I there after continued to drink on my own.
After a bit I felt rather drunk and tried to goad some of the people in the bar into coming night
swimming with me, but none of them seemed to want to go in for it.
Awhile later I followed some young English men I’d been drinking with into a nearby club that they knew
of. The club was only a short walk away from the bar. And it was in a small subterranean room, and had
a rather large amount of young Vietnamese people inside. The electronic dance music inside was up so
loud it felt like it was doing serious damage to my ears, but by then I felt too drunk to care.
The English boys laughed at me as I had no shoes or sandles on, and the bottoms of my jeans were still
sodden wet from the sea and dripping onto the floor. And the boys and I later laughed at a handsome
young Vietnamese chap who was dressed in rather effeminate clothes, a short tight pair of denim
shorts, a black crop top and denim jacket, as he danced in a rather effeminate and rambunctious
manner.
And there were also several pretty Vietnamese girls in the club which I enjoyed looking at.
I took a rather expensive, at least by Vietnamese standards, can of beer from the bar, and slowly drank it
as I watched the girls in the club dance.
Awhile later I took a second can of beer from the bar.
As I drank it I noticed a petite attractive young Vietnamese woman in a white silk romper with prints of
roses on it dancing; too drunk to feel particularly shy by then, I went up to her and danced with her.
And after awhile of this I finished my can of beer and went and left it on an already very cluttered, round
black table.
‘This is bullshit’ I thought to myself, ‘You don’t like clubs. This music’s terrible and up way too loud, so
much so that it’s probably damaging your ears. These guys aren’t your friends’
I got up, left the club, and sat on a curb not far from it, so as to take a breather before I headed back to
my bungalow. And there was a pressed bitumen road before me and occasional motorscooters were
going by on it
And after awhile I watched as a young Vietnamese man grabbed at the wrist of the small girl in the rose-
printed romper who I’d danced with before. And the pair were yelling at each other in fast aggressive-
sounding Vietnamese.
I got up and approached the pair, ‘Hey’ I said to the girl, ‘Er, are you alright miss? Is there any sort of
problem here?’ 
And the pair both looked at me blankly. The harsh sounding rapid fire Vietnamese then continued.
I shrugged then went and sat back down on the curb. 
‘Maybe they’re like lovers’ I thought to myself, ‘and I don’t know what their deal is...
Probably best not to get involved, eh?’
And after a little bit the girl came and sat down beside me on the curb. I was still rather drunk and tired
and didn’t know where the young man was.
‘Hey...’ I said to her, ‘English? You speak any English?’
She shook her head at me. 
‘No English?’ I asked her again, ‘You don’t speak any English?’

She looked at me blankly.
‘What’s your name?’ 
She shook her head again and pouted at me.
‘Ah well’ I replied, ‘y’know, at times like this, I wish I smoked cigarettes...
Just, it’s kind of silly being pensive without a cigarette in your hand, isn’t it? You don’t look or feel
anywhere near as cool.
I mean if you’ve got a cigarette at a time like this, you’re a cool guy sitting on a curb, smoking a
cigarette, as he looks up at the stars and thinks about deep and romantic things; Who is that guy?
What’s he thinking? What’s his deal?
And without one you’re basically just a bum sitting out on a curb doning nothing, right?’ I laughed a little
at this and the girl looked at me again.
‘Yeah...’ I went on, ‘hey, er, do you reckon I could man a sketch of you? You’re cute. You’re really cute,
you know that? Shit…’
The girl continued to look at me.
I got my sketch pad and a pen out of my satchel bag and started to make a sketch of the girl.
In the middle of this the girl took her old nokia phone out from behind her bra in her romper, then
mimed to ask me if I had a phone number. I shook my head at her and shrugged, then returned to my
work on the sketch.
Before I could finish it, the young man from before walked over to us.
I smiled at him, gave him the thumbs up sign, then the peace sign, then the o-shaped perfection symbol.
And he smiled back at me, then began talking to the girl in rather violent sounding Vietnamese again.
He then tried to grab her by the arm, to which she shoved him off.
‘Hey, man, what’s up?’ I said to the fellow, ‘I don’t think she likes that bud…’
I looked at the pavement and after a little while a cab pulled up on the curb, and the girl got up and tried
to pull me forward by the wrist.
‘Wait! Wait!’ I said, then put my sketchpad back away in my satchel bag refastened it’s clasps, then
followed her into the cab.
Our cab drove on for a while and I assumed I was heading back to the girl’s place which was quite a
distance away from the beach.
And in the back of the cab I kissed the girl on the cheek, then on her mouth.
‘Oh you little bitch, I’m going to enjoy this’ I thought to myself.
As the cab drove on the girl frequently looked out of the back window behind us, apparently
apprehensive that someone might be following us, perhaps the man from before on a motorscooter.
 
After awhile the cab driver pulled over by the side of the road and got out, I think perhaps to smoke a
cigarette or to urinate, though I was still quite drunk, wasn’t looking, and cannot say for certain.
And the girl and I kissed rather violently while we were alone in the back of the cab.
Soon the driver came back and we pressed on.
Eventually we pulled up at a rather austere looking two story apartment block.
The girl had no money on her; only her old nokia phone, which she mostly kept tucked away in her bra,
and her sandles, so I paid the 25 odd dollar taxi bill, or at least equivilent there of in Vietnamese dong,
for however long we’d been driving for.
Outside the apartment block a young man came up to the girl and I.
‘You stay in hotel’ he said to me flatly.
‘What?’ I asked him.

‘This here, hotel, you stay here in hotel. 10 dollar one hour. You pay 10 dollar one hour. You pay now. 10
dollar one hour’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ I replied, ‘No. Fuck off’
‘Ok, how much you pay?’
‘Nothing. This is fucked.
Ah man...
I’m really getting over this. Like, I’m really getting over this. I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere. It’s the
middle of the night. I have no idea where I am. I’m running outta cash. I don’t have any shoes on and I
don’t even know the name of my fucking hotel, man’ turning to the girl I then added, ‘I mean are you in
with this guy or what? What’s going on here? I don’t wanna—I’m leaving, alright? I’m leaving. It was nice
to meet you have a great night' I started to walk off, then turned, looked back at the girl and said, ‘Well
are you coming or what?’
And she ran back up to me. We walked on for a bit, then I slipped my hand into hers as we walked. ‘I’m
sorry’ I said to her, ‘it’s just—ugh, you can’t understand me anyway can you?’
She looked at me and smiled.
‘Let’s just go back to my place’ I said to her as we walked on hand in hand, ‘the trouble is I just, I don’t
even know how to get back there. I don’t even know where the fuck we are now...
Like, do you live around here? Can we just go to your place? Have you got a mother who’s strict or...?’
I looked at the girl. She looked back at me and smiled.
We walked on. Something suddenly occured to me. ‘That’s it!’ I said, ‘my keyring. My fucking keyring.
My hotel keyring’s got the name of my place on it, doesn’t it? That’s it’
I took the key out of the inner pocket of my satchel bag and sure enough the name and address of my
resort was printed on the large plastic keyring.
I stopped walking, showed the key ring to the girl and said, ‘here my place, my place. My hotel. You
want to come? You want to come back to my place?’
She nodded.
‘Great’ I replied.
The girl and I followed the street we were on up to the main road it interesected with. As we headed on
down the main road I stuck my thumb out and tried to hitch a lift for us from the occasional passing
motorscooters, but none of them stopped.
The girl soon noticed me doing this. She shook her head at me, then tried to pull my extended arm down
as the scooters shot by.
A shortwhile later she approached a man in a taxi cab parked by the side of the road.
The pair said a few things to each other in Vietnamese.
‘Look, dude, no, ok?’ I said to the girl, ‘can we stop spending money on things? I can’t afford it. Can’t we
just hitch back?’
We then walked on together down the road.
Another cab soon pulled over to see if we needed a lift.
I had about the equivilent of 30 dollars in VND left on me.
‘Ah, fuck it’ I said, ‘let’s just catch a cab’
I gave the girl my keyring and she showed it to the driver then said some things to him in Vietnamese.
And it cost me the equivilent of 6 dollars in VND to get us back to the resort.
‘It’s not much, but it’s home’ I said to the girl as we walked back into my little bungalow together, ‘never
mind the mess...’

I turned on the lights, then walked into the bathroom.
Over the bathroom sink in there, beneath the mirror, there’s a little glass shelf, which had a toothbrush
and a little single serving tube of toothpaste, inside a clear plastic packet, resting on it.
There’s still also a plastic comb, also inside a clear plastic packet, and a small bar of soap, inside a white
plastic packet, resting on the shelf, which I haven’t used yet.
‘Here’ I said handing the girl the toothbrush packet, ‘you can use this to brush your teeth with’
I then did a little mime. ‘I’ll use my own’ I then told her. And she nodded at me.
I then went and dug my toothbrush and tube of toothpaste out from my suitcase.
The girl was already brushing her teeth in the bathroom when I got back into it.
I started to brush my own, and the lid was down on the toilet, and I soon sat down on it, as I continued
to brush my teeth.
The girl looked at me from where she was standing behind the sink as she brushed her teeth and I
looked back at her from the toilet.
We finished brushing our teeth, spat out the paste, then went back to my double bed. And after sitting
there for a little while I got up and turned the ceiling light off.
I then tried to turn the lamp on my bedside table off but the girl shook her head at me and turned it
back on. I felt rather drunk and tired. The girl started to kiss me and we soon took to making love. Not
long after we’d finished, I watched as the girl sat up on the end of my bed and started to dress herself
again. And I pulled my cotton boxer shorts back on.
‘I still never got your name’ I said to her as I watched her put her black bra back on; she attached its
clasp at the front of her chest first, before turning it back around.
She shook her head at this and smiled faintly at me. She then slipped her arms back into her bra, then
started to pull her romper back on. Midway thru this she pointed to the door, and smiled wanly at me.
I pointed to the bed, shrugged, then said, ‘you’d be welcome to stay if you wanted’
The girl shook her head at this with a wan smile then proceeded to slip both of her arms, thru the thin
arm holes of her romper.
‘Wait, wait’ I said to her. I then gently pulled the sleeves of the romper down from her shoulders, then
lowered the garment till I could just see one of her brown nipples, ‘let me sketch you once more before
you leave? Please?’
She looked at me blankly.
‘Wait, wait, please’ I told her, ‘hold on’
I then picked my canvas satchel bag up from where I’d left it on the floor beside my bed, and took my
sketchpad out of it. I turned to a blank page, then proceeded to start sketching the girl in pencil as I sat
beside her on the bed, often looking her in the eye as I worked on the sketch.
When the sketch was finished some twenty odd minutes later I handed it to the girl. She held it before
her and looked at it. She then put it back on my bed, then pointed to my jeans on the floor. She picked
them up and pointed to the pocket my money was in.
‘Look, no, ok’ I said to her, ‘I can’t give you any more money. I’m sorry but I can’t afford it, alright?’
She then put the jeans down on my bed and pointed to the pocket again.
‘Look, no, ok? You’d be welcome to stay here if you want, but I just, I can’t give you any more money,
alright? I can’t afford it. I have to pay rent here, y’know?’
I pointed to the door, mimed someone knocking on it, then said, ‘landlord come and ask for money for
rent’ I then pretended to hand some money to someone here, ‘And I must pay him. You understand? So
I need, the money for that. I can’t give you any more money, ok?’
She shook her head then pointed to the pocket of my jeans again. She then mimed someone driving a

car. She then took all the money out of my pocket, and put all the bills back down on the bed, save for a
500,000 vnd note, about the equivilent of 25 Australian dollars, and showed it to me.
‘Look no, alright?!’ I snapped at her, then snatched the bill from her hand, ‘Fuck off, alright? No.
You’re welcome to stay if you want, but I—‘
Cutting me short the girl got up, grabbed her phone from where she’d left it on the desk by my front
wall, a metre or so down from the foot of my bed, then headed out the front door, slamming it shut
behind her.
‘Ugh, god damnit’ I sigh as I collapsed back down on my bed.
I laid there for a shortwhile, still feeling rather drunk, then got up, pulled my jeans and a t-shirt back on
and then headed out to try and find the girl.
I walked for 20 odd minutes up the guest-house-lined, cracked concrete street that my resort is at the
bottom of and back out onto the main road, but I couldn’t see the girl about anywhere.
‘Hello?’ I called out once I was on the mainroad as I looked about in the dim light, ‘Hello? Hello?’
I continued to look about for her for a shortwhile then said to myself, ‘Ah god damn it man, fuck this.
Fuck this’ then I started to make my way back down the concrete street towards my resort.