En route to Frankfurt

In the plane I sat down next to two empty seats. Among the people moving up the aisle were a man and a woman - not very tall wearing brown-toned caps and lugging heavy-looking bags. Each had a wheelie roller case and a backpack. The man took one of the woman's cases and adroitly placed it in the stowaway but there was little room left and the woman, who probably had noticed my interest, indicated her rolling suitcase in a way which asked me if I could place it in an available space some seats behind where I was sitting. Listening to their exchanges and studying their appearance I had been guessing they were Tibetan; a monk and a nun. Both had close-cropped hair, and now the woman beamingly seemed assured that I would help. I arose and her carry-on bag was even more overweight than mine have ever been.
Having disposed of it two seats behind me, I went back to sit, but she gave me another equally heavy backpack and laughed when I involuntarily made a amused sound of amazement - both over its size and her smiling matter-of-course attitude. They both, of course, sat down in my adjacent empty seats and I immediately began thinking of how to find out where they came from. Shortly after take-off, the man put an end to my deliberations by asking me where I came from. I responded, and copying his straightforward manner, I found out they were Vietnamese. This took some time for me to realize, though, because he said something I heard as "yuenan" and first took to be Burma. When this was denied, I then assumed it to be the Chinese province of Yunnan. When their origins were finally settled, I asked they were a monk and nun and this he confirmed. For how long? He for 22 years and she for 20. Then his second and equally straightforward question came. I answered 46 whereupon he told me he was 45 and she 41, and then all three of us laughed loudly.
To cut a fairly short story somewhat shorter, the monk and I began speaking in Chinese - his English was a bit difficult for me to follow - so when I found out he spoke Mandarin as well I proceeded to dredge up a few Chinese bits and pieces. This went much better, I thought. Not so much the communication. Rather, I thought it was better for me to be at a disadvantage in terms of language in a conversation which was doomed to be halting no matter what language we chose. At that moment I was in the mood to be the one learning, not explaining.
He said I'd have to stay at his house in Vietnam, when he heard I'd like to go there one day. I, in turn, told him to contact me if he came to Japan, and we duly exchanged email adresses. He had not been there yet - but he had been to China. So had I, and when I mentioned Wutaishan, which is a large Buddhist enclave I visited with fellow students in the winter of 1998, he pointed one finger in the air as his eyes lit up in astonishment, whereupon he pressed both hands in front of his face, bowing his head slightly.
The nun, who he said did not speak Chinese, none the less followed our conversation intermittenly and smilingly and for some reason she laughed once in while when I spoke... When we landed in Frankfurt I readily fetched her the aforementioned two pieces of luggage. We then left the plane, whereupon I immediately realized I had forgotten a bag of tax-free purchases by my seat. To get it I had to wait by the plane for all to disembark. When I finally came out into the landing gate my travel companions stood there waiting for me; now suddenly joined by somber-looking dark-suited asian men. They both bowed with hands joined (with the suits just staring at me). Both disappointed and relieved, I went on alone to find my connecting plane to Kyoto.