“I am one of the boat people that people read about.” 

Mr. Bui escaped Vietnam in 1981, one of the countless boat people who fled in search of safety and a new future.

His first stop was the Philippines, where he stayed before being sponsored to move to Arlington, Virginia, where his grandmother lived. This led him to Virginia Tech, where he pursued his education and built the foundation for his career. 

In 1984, he moved to Charlotte, North Carolina, for a job at IBM, a decision that marked another major transition in his life. Coming from Northern Virginia, a fast-paced, metropolitan area, Charlotte felt vastly different. 

“It was, for me, a typical Southern town – kind of slow-paced.” 

At the time, ethnic restaurants were scarce, and the city lacked the diversity he had been used to. Still, he embraced the opportunity, adapting once again to a new environment as he built his career and future in the U.S.

Growing up in Saigon, Mr. Bui attended a French school designed for the children of French embassy personnel. The curriculum was identical to that of students in France, using the same textbooks and entirely taught in French. However, students who demonstrated strong French proficiency were also able to enroll, which allowed them to receive a European-style education in Vietnam.  

In eighth grade, he chose English as his foreign language. After the war ended, Vietnam’s political ties shifted, and he was required to study Russian instead as the country became heavily subsidized by the Soviet Union. With an uncle working in customs, he was frequently exposed to foreign language pamphlets, sparking his curiosity about different languages. 

That interest continues today, as he is now learning Spanish, adding yet another language to his diverse linguistic background.

Since arriving in North Carolina in 1984, he has spent nearly 40 years in the state, with 24 of them in Chapel Hill. Despite its small size, Chapel Hill is surprisingly cosmopolitan, offering a diverse community where he has built friendships with people from France, Britain, and Nigeria. What he enjoys most is the town’s location—equidistant from the mountains and the beach, providing easy access to both landscapes.  

Beyond Chapel Hill, he also worked in Kenansville, a rural town where he found that people were just as open-minded and kind. Many were farmers, and he was often gifted fresh produce and eggs, a generosity that reminded him of the warmth of close-knit communities.  

When it comes to knowledge about Vietnamese culture, the level of awareness in North Carolina varies widely. In Chapel Hill, most people are familiar with Vietnamese food, but in other parts of the state, some might struggle to even locate Vietnam on a map. Over time, this has changed with the rise of the internet and social media, which have helped spread awareness of different cultures.  

Despite Chapel Hill’s international influence, the Vietnamese community remains small. 

“Fewer than 20 around here,” 

he notes, referring to the number of Vietnamese families outside of the university student population. In contrast, cities like Charlotte and Raleigh have much larger and more established Vietnamese communities, making his experience in Chapel Hill feel even more unique.

In 1992, he took an opportunity that would take him far from North Carolina—he began working for the United Nations, spending the next five years overseas. His journey started with a job listing in The Economist, where the United Nations sought an experienced French-speaking engineer. This led him to spend 2.5 years in Africa and another 2.5 years in Switzerland, experiencing vastly different environments and cultures.  

“They said they would send me to a place that was always sunny, so I spent 2.5 years in the Sahara Desert, 800 miles from the nearest town.”

Living in extreme isolation taught him the importance of rationing and resourcefulness—like an extended camping trip where he had to carefully manage food, water, and supplies. Even years after returning, small habits, such as taking short showers, have stayed with him.  

Mr. Bui also learned how to cook carbonara from an Italian colleague while he was overseas, which is his favorite non-Vietnamese dish to this day, showcasing the importance of cultural exchange.

His time abroad also deepened his appreciation for the privileges of American life. Experiencing the stark contrast between resource-scarce environments and well-equipped American towns gave him a new perspective on everyday conveniences. After five years, he returned to North Carolina, where his family and home remained while he traveled for work, marking the end of a transformative chapter in his career.

“Vietnamese food and dishes have become a lot more mainstream in the last 15, 20 years.” 

Reflecting on how accessibility has changed since he first arrived in the U.S, he notes that any good-sized town—and certainly any city—will have Vietnamese restaurants serving dishes like phở and bánh mì, staples that were once difficult to find. When he moved to Charlotte in 1984, the only ethnic restaurants were Chinese, Italian, and French. 

Phở remains a central part of his daily life, just as it is in Vietnam. 

“It’s what we eat pretty much every day in Vietnam for breakfast.” 

His wife always makes phở at home, and while he enjoys eating it, he hopes to one day learn how to make it himself. For the most part, he can find the Vietnamese ingredients and dishes he enjoys, though some items, like durian—beloved by many Vietnamese—are harder to access in Chapel Hill.  

Still, not every restaurant serves Vietnamese food the way he remembers it from home. 

“You can find a lot of so-called restaurants which have more of a Chinese or non-Vietnamese bend… so if you eat phở, it’s not the right taste.” 

When traveling to a new city, he has a simple trick for finding authentic Vietnamese food: 

“If you happen to be in a city where you know nobody, go to a nail salon because I can guarantee that it is owned or operated by Vietnamese folks. Those folks know which restaurants are good in that area.” 

Food has always been tied to memory, and one of his strongest childhood recollections is of his mother making thơm ướp đá đường during the hot summers. The simple, refreshing dessert of pineapple marinated in sugar and served over crushed ice was a treat that helped beat the heat. Now, even with access to more Vietnamese ingredients and restaurants, these homemade flavors remain some of his most cherished.

Mr. Bui has noticed a shift in how people think about food. 

“People pay more attention to healthy foods… in comparison to 40 years ago. 40 years ago, you didn’t really care what you ate or drank…information about healthy food has become more widespread.” 

Access to nutritional knowledge and dietary awareness has grown, influencing the way people eat and what they prioritize in their meals.  

In the past, food choices were often driven by convenience, availability, or tradition, with little thought given to long-term health effects. Now, with a greater emphasis on well-being, people are more mindful of ingredients, portion sizes, and balanced diets. He has observed these changes not only in mainstream American cuisine but also notably in traditional Vietnamese food, where fresh herbs, lean proteins, and plenty of vegetables have always played a key role. Dishes like gỏi (Vietnamese salads), phở, and spring rolls naturally incorporate a variety of vegetables and fresh greens, making them both flavorful and nutritious. While modern dietary trends emphasize fresh, whole foods, he notes that Vietnamese cuisine has long embraced this approach, proving that traditional meals can also be some of the healthiest.

Mr. Bui shares that he would introduce the concept of Vietnamese pronouns to someone new to Vietnamese culture. One of the most distinctive aspects of Vietnamese culture is its complex system of address terms. Unlike English, where "I" and "you" are standard, Vietnamese has many ways to refer to oneself and others, depending on age, social status, and relationship.  

"Picking the wrong combination can be insulting."

Pronouns in Vietnamese are deeply tied to respect and hierarchy. The way you address someone spells out the relationship through speech, signaling whether they are older, younger, a peer, or someone of authority. While this nuance is second nature to native speakers, it is often overlooked by those unfamiliar with the language. Understanding these subtleties is key to showing respect and navigating Vietnamese social interactions properly.