I never thought I’d travel halfway around the world to spend a Sunday night watching Sex in the City and ordering take out. When our new twenty-three year old French friend, Emmanuel, invited us to his home for wine and cheese, we jumped at the chance to see how an expat lives. He’s spent the last year and a half working at a museum in Hanoi and rents a gorgeous three-story house on a lake.
Emmanuel toasted bread to eat with the French cheese and escargot spread he’d set out on the table, while his Aussie housemate, Adi, poured us red wine and his Dutch roommate, Steve, took this photo of us in the traditional Vietnamese hats that were remnants from a recent birthday party. As if being in a real home with couches and bathtubs and a refrigerator wasn’t excitement enough, we spotted a Sex in the City DVD collection.
Now, we can only speculate as to why these men had the entire box set. Some theories: Maybe they’re gay. Maybe they watch it for the sex scenes. Maybe they think the show contains the secret to understanding women. Who knows? Who cares? Jen “accidentally” hit play and we settled in to reminiscence about life in the big apple.
After sitting through two episodes, Emmanuel asked if we wanted to go to dinner. “Um, can we get pizza delivery in Vietnam?” Amanda asked. And, just like that, he pulls out his cell and has three pies delivered to our door. We were in heaven.
I guess you can take the girls out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girls.