Turkish man shrugs off language barrier to find way to Vietnamese businesswoman’s heart

In front of their home on Thoai Ngoc Hau Street in HCMC’s Tan Phu District, the Vietnamese-Turkish couple discussed lunch plans. One knows neither English nor Vietnamese while the other cannot understand Turkish, and they have relied on translation apps to communicate for the past six years of being together.

"He is always working, hardly leaving the sugarcane cart even when there are no customers," Nguyen Thi Chung, 48, director of an electrical equipment company in District 8, says about her husband.

Huseyin Karaks and his wife Chung sell beverages in Tan Phu District, Ho Chi Minh City, in early November, 2024. Photo by VnExpress/Ngoc Ngan

Before meeting Chung, Karaks, a widower with a son, worked as a construction worker in Tunceli in his home country, Turkey.

Leading a lonely life, he turned to social media, looking for new friends and companionship.

One day Facebook suggested Chung's profile. Intrigued by her photo on a large motorcycle, Karaks sent her a friend request. "She seemed strong and lively, and she had a wonderful smile," he recalls.

At that time Chung too had ended her previous marriage, and her two children were grown up. At first, Chung found Karaks's frequent messages and comments disturbing and blocked him.

He then created another account and reached out again. Curious about this persistence, Chung checked out his profile and found photos he posted every year visiting his late wife's grave with his son.

Chung decided to give the Turkish man a chance, and they started to chat more. Unable to speak English, they used a translation app to communicate. During their first video call, the two could only silently smile at each other.

From that time, when he returned home daily, he expected to receive loving messages from Chung, reminding him to make warm soup or buy more clothes for the colder weather. "It felt like she was bringing warmth back into my life," he says.

Meanwhile, Chung found herself drawn to Karaks, who spent three to four hours each day talking with her.

She was impressed by how he cared for his son, dried his hair, did laundry and washed dishes, and sensed his love for family. "But no one believed in our love," she says.

In late 2018 the growing incidence of online gift scams in Vietnam caused concern among Chung's family members. Her parents worried for her, while her children feared she would be hurt again.

After over a year of long-distance conversations with no resolution, Chung sent Karaks a message in early 2019, saying: "If you care about me, come and see me."

He was 46 and unsure he could find love again, but realized he could not live without Chung.

And he arrived in Vietnam a week later with US$2,000 borrowed from friends. At the crowded Tan Son Nhat Airport, he immediately spotted Chung and embraced her warmly. He says: "It felt as if we had loved each other forever. There was no gap between us, even with the language barrier.

Huseyin Karaks and his wife Chung at their home on Thoai Ngoc Hau Street in Tan Phu District, Ho Chi Minh City. Photo by VnExpress/Ngoc Ngan

During his month-long stay in HCMC, Chung's family gradually warmed to Karaks. He was reserved but kind and attentive, and appreciative of the city's warm weather and food.

When his time was almost up he surprised her with a proposal. "It was a quick decision, but I knew it wasn't impulsive," he says. "I felt like I could spend the rest of my life with her in Vietnam."

After a few nights of consideration, Chung agreed to give marriage another chance. After the Reunification Day holidays, they traveled to the Turkish embassy in Hanoi to register their marriage. Karaks decided to settle in Vietnam and help with her business.

When he returned to Turkey to finish his business, Chung secretly placed $4,000 in his suitcase. When he found out he asked to use part of the money to renovate his late wife's grave, which had become overgrown and unkempt.

"That was his last farewell before moving to Vietnam," Chung says. "It showed me his deep loyalty and dignity."

In 2021 the pandemic hit Chung's business hard, and family troubles took a toll on her health. Weak and exhausted, she relied on Karaks to care for the house. One night, when she suffered a seizure, he frantically called for help while holding her close. "At that moment, I knew I had chosen the right person," she says.

Last year Chung's ex-husband had an accident, and doctors had to amputate one of his legs. Karaks encouraged Chung to help the man, saying, "Even if love fades, kindness remains." She would prepare food for her ex-husband and Karaks would take it to the hospital. Even after five years of marriage language remains a challenge for them.

Karaks has been diligently learning Vietnamese by studying a children's workbook and practicing every simple word.

In October this year, the couple decided to set up a sugarcane juice stand outside their home. He himself loves the refreshing beverage, and he also hopes to communicate more frequently with Vietnamese people.

Getting up at 5 a.m. each day he prepares the juice machine and ingredients, happy to connect with local customers, while Chung helps by marinating fruits and adding variety to the menu. "Life here in Vietnam, simple as it is, makes me truly happy," he says.