the Hanoi jam sessions

As I walked along Hang Gai street weaving in and around t-shirt hawkers, fruit sellers, guys hanging out in front of their stores having tea,  trying to avoid getting hit by traffic I came across a music store. I think the owner's name is Hom, but I was too embarassed to ask him to pronounce it again. Neither of us spoke very much of the other's language. After enough awkward pronunciation and a mime act that would have gotten me thrown out of any self respecting busking festival, I made him understand I wanted to jam. He has everything in this shop, if it has a string on it, he's got it : exotic traditional instruments, drums, bells, shakers, bamboo flutes, instruments that I had no idea how to sound.
I asked him to play the dan bao, a single stringed instrument that, when skilfully played, can carry a melody as gracefully as the Vietnamese market women carry their yokes packed with fruit. The sound of one lonely string seemed to block out the din from the street; it was a heavy, almost sad sound, but sweet and graceful as well. I picked up a terrible guitar, completely off tune and tried to find some way to accompany him fearing I would miss the moment. A few chords later, we actually had cobbled together a melody, a phrase, incomplete, but satisfying nonetheless. I knew momentarily where he was going and he was gracious enough to take me along for the ride. We stared at each other as the last notes rang. He gave me a little nod, which I returned, respectfully.
Cool, I thought...
He gave me a case to go with the dan bao, and  a book to explain how to play it. Now all I have to do is learn Vietnamese...