EDITORIAL NOTE
"Saigon never sleeps and Saigon night is never enough" is a familiar saying that locals and tourists use to describe Ho Chi Minh City, the largest city and economic locomotive of the country. The city is colorful and brilliant at night, with the sounds of people, vehicles, and scenes of entertainment and making a living never stopping.
To serve life after midnight, many people still smile, welcome guests, and collect coins on the sidewalk.
Dan Tri has produced a series of articles about the lives of people who make a living at midnight, to see the life of the city that never sleeps, where opportunities are open to everyone.
Hearing the familiar sound, a child hurriedly ran out and opened the door wide: "Mr. Bau, give me a bowl!".
He did not ask the boy if he wanted more or less spicy food, or if he wanted to remove the bones or the ham, because he was proud of knowing every customer's taste.
Responding to the boy’s question with a nod, the man with a sore back quickly turned his bike around and pedaled straight to the noodle stall at the end of the alley. In just a few minutes, he returned with a full bowl of noodles, fragrant with the smell of meat and fried onions.
The job seems easy but is difficult
Mr. Han Ngoc Bau's noodle cart (51 years old, from Phu Tho province) is located at the corner of Cau Cong market (Doan Van Bo street, district 4, HCMC), an easily visible location, so for the past 23 years, it has still had many customers coming every day.
According to Mr. Bau, nowadays, noodle carts are usually fixed in one place, mainly selling to walk-in customers. His family is one of the few noodle stalls that still exist in the style of one seller, one person riding a bicycle, holding a spoon and hitting a stone pestle, going through every corner to find customers and then bringing the dish to the customer.
The noodle cart owner confided that the noodle cart job seemed easy but was actually extremely hard. Before he had a bicycle, he had to walk to carry noodles a long distance.
On days when there are many customers, Mr. Bau's arms and head become "busy", filling 3 trays with nearly ten bowls of noodles.
At first, he was still unsteady, but gradually Mr. Bau got used to it. "My highest record is holding 10 bowls of noodles at the same time without ever spilling them on the floor," he said, his eyes filled with pride.
In addition to that difficulty, Mr. Bau said that he and his wife always have to remember the taste of each customer. Because if there is just a slight "off" he will regret losing a regular customer.
In the past, people used to maliciously spread the rumor that the noodles were delicious because of the rats in the broth. Hearing this, the vendors just shook their heads in dismay.
Mr. Bau’s wife, Ms. Nguyen Thi Thao (47 years old), shared that the delicious broth is due to the seasoning experience of the seller. To retain customers, the seller must also know how to invest in other ingredients such as meat, vegetables, etc.
Most importantly, the owner and the processing area must always be neat and clean in order to have "regular customers". Because for Mrs. Thao, even though it is a street vendor, everything must be "standard". That is also the reason why her husband and wife's noodle stall exists until today.
Each bowl costs 20,000-25,000 VND. A large portion of the money from the sale has been used to buy ingredients, and Mrs. Thao considers the rest as her profit.
From 8am, the couple gets up to prepare ingredients to set up shop by 3pm. Mrs. Thao's noodle stall will sell at Market 200 on Xom Chieu Street (District 4) until 8pm, then start moving to Cau Cong Market, selling until midnight. Customers come to eat noodle, placing orders continuously, making Mrs. Thao never rest.
"Doing this requires standing all the time, but when I get to rest, I feel very sad. Because I only get to rest when sales are slow," Ms. Thao said, laughing.
Street vendor feeds 6 mouths
Back in the countryside, Mr. Bau and his wife got married while they were still working hard in the fields of Phu Tho province.
Farming life was hard, the money he earned could only fill half of his hungry stomach. He asked his parents to let him go to the South to start a business, to escape poverty.
At first, his parents strongly objected. After a few attempts at persuasion, Mr. Bau received a reluctant nod. Then, he and his wife left behind their two newborn children, and asked their parents to raise them.
In 2001, on the bus ride to the south, he and his wife cried silently. Every stretch of road the bus passed made his heart heavier, but he could only wipe away his tears and occasionally turn his head to look back at the land that had raised him.
When he arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, he worked as a assistant at a noodle shop. The money he earned was just enough for him and his wife to survive. Realizing that he would never have any money left, he quit his job, saved up money to buy a similar noodle cart and started his own business.
At first, the couple sold from afternoon until 2am. When they got home, his wife counted the money and was disappointed because she only made a profit of 8,000 VND.
"There were nights when I lay in bed crying, blaming my miserable life. My wife and I also planned to return to our hometown because business was difficult. But then I suddenly remembered my determination to escape poverty when I was sitting on the bus to the South, I remembered my parents' hopeful eyes and the future of my two children. At that moment, I knew I couldn't stop, because I didn't want my children to suffer like me," Mr. Bau confided.
After that, Mr. Bau and his wife learned how to adjust the flavor to suit the Southern people. To please their customers, Mr. Bau and his wife always smiled and sincerely responded to each person.
Gradually, the number of customers increased, and the money earned from the noodle stall helped the couple have a stable life. Every month, Mr. Bau and his wife regularly sent money back home to support their parents and two children.
Dream of escaping the wandering life and finding a warm and cozy place
Although over 50 years old, Mr. Bau and his wife can be counted on the fingers of one hand the number of times they have celebrated Tet in their hometown.
"Back home, there are so many expenses to worry about. Doing business like this, it's a pity to take a day off. We have to sacrifice, in exchange for education, a bowl of rice for our parents and children," Ms. Thao confided.
Last year on New Year's Eve, he and his wife sat next to a half-full pot of broth. The guests were workers who had just finished work and stopped by for a bowl of noodles to warm their stomachs and welcome a better new year.
"Looks like someone is celebrating New Year's Eve with my husband and I," Mrs. Thao joked.
Working non-stop, Mr. Bau and his wife's health is no longer what it used to be. Herniated disc disease also makes his sleep restless. Mrs. Thao, due to standing a lot, cannot avoid aches and pains on windy or changing weather days.
After nearly 23 years of exile, Mr. Bau and Mrs. Thao have gained the most from their children’s future. Their two children have graduated from university and now work in the information technology field.
Although the child asked his parents to come back to their hometown many times, Mr. Bau and his wife refused.
"My child only went in here to play once. Because he saw his parents suffering so much, he was so sad that he didn't dare go in again...", Mr. Bau said.
"Win the lottery, buy a house, go back to the countryside", that's how Mr. Bau and his wife summed up their dream.
Speaking of this, Mr. Bau became quiet. He wondered, why was that dream so far away, would it come to him and his wife after all those years of wandering, selling and buying things?
Mr. Bau quickly turned away, wiping away his tears so his wife wouldn't see. The man slowly climbed onto his old bicycle. The knocking sound rang out once more, and Mr. Bau's back gradually disappeared into the small alley.
On this side, Mrs. Thao continued to ladle broth into the noodle bowl. White smoke rose up along with a faint aroma.
The woman with gray hair, once again pondered: "23 years have passed, how fast…".
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