On Turning 25

I am writing this on a plane between Saigon and Hanoi. This weekend marked my 25th birthday. I am now a quarter of a century old. Despite the weeks leading up to my birthday being some of the busiest of my life, I've been able to think and realise a bit about what it means to be 25.

First off, it means birthdays are really not that important anymore. More exciting and more urgent things come first. Like your job. Hence having to work this weekend. I can no longer have my mom write me a sick note .

It also means I am an adult now. I can stop pretending to be mature, composed and proffesional in everyday situations, especially at work. I've realised the majority of other people are also pretending. Although other people around my age and older seem to know what they are doing, this is a lie. They are just as lost and confused as me. I bet even my dad doesn't know what he's doin sometimes. 

I have no more excuses for not doing things in my life. I can especially no longer say I'll save it for when I'm older. For instance, playing sports. I have never been into playing sports, and it is very unlikely I'll ever start. My parents must have put me in every kind of sport as a kid:  tennis, soccer, swimming, even figure skating. I need to except that I'll never be that into sports. Same thing for playing an instrument. I'll probably never play an instrument in my life.

People can no longer say I am too young to know what love is. I think by this time in my life I can say I have experienced what love is.... And what it isn't. I just am not sure If it's turned out to be as easy as I thought.

I am not going to grow out of anything anymore. Like my big italian nose. I don't think my face is suddenly going to grow proportionately to my nose between the age of 25 and 30. I also will always have that soft layer of flesh under my skin. Yes, the one that has elicited comments such as " you look so skinny but your skin is very fatty" ( got to love the honesty of the Vietnamese people). I need to accept that my looks are only going to go down from here.

However I am not accepting that it's downhill from here. Just because i havent done something ive wanted to do by now, doesnt mean i still cant try. Its just trying is a lot more difficult. 

I have been the happiest I have ever been lately. I am experiencing things about the world, and in turn about myself, that are invaluable. Life is becoming less about freedom and ignoring the consequences, but developping friendships that will outlast any particular stage in my life. It's become about learning how to live to make sure I am still happy when I'm 30, because my needs and values will have changed by then...

Let's just not talk about my 30s for another 5 years, ok?

Acupuncture

My wrist has been hurting me for quite few months now, and in the last week it has gotten pretty bad. So bad, that I could not type or even drive my electric scooter.

My co-worker suggested to me I try her acupuncture doctor. Cheaper than "Western Medecine," I thought, why not? I had never been acupuntured (hehe) before, but definitely would try it.

The acupuncture doctor practises from the bottom floor of his home. It's about 4 metres by 5 metres, and is divided with a small wooden screen. He was really excited to have a foreigner come to him, and he was even more excited to know that I could speak a little Vietnamese!

The treatment lasted about 5 minutes, where he poked my wrist with the same needle a couple times, and massaged my nerves. You could imagine how great that felt. I told him I was dizzy, so he made me lay down. He then proceeded to feed me longans, not allowing me to feed myself. I was lying there on the hard bamboo table while an old bearded Vietnamese man fed me fruit. Next time, he told me I should eat before I come over.

It cost me about 3 dollars for the treatment, but I was kind of hoping for something a little more therapeutic. In the end, I decided to go over to Yakushi Centre on Xuan Dieu to try out their treatment. It was definitely worth it. I paid twice as much, but it lasted a whole hour. They even attached an electrical source and soft shocks pulsed through my arm and hand.

In the end my wrist is doing a lot better... But still having difficulty typing and riding my bike. As for the cause, apparently it is tendinitis.

Back to Vietnam by way of China... Part I

For my way back to Vietnam from Montreal, I found a cheap flight to Beijing. I decided to take a couple days in China, before using Aeroplan points to get to Hanoi. I got a 6-month multiple-entry visa, thinking that maybe I would want to take another trip to Guangzhou for another shopping spree someday.

Somehow I got a reputation at work now, where everyone thinks I love China. I don`t love China. But it's true that not many travellers in Southeast Asia (or Hanoi) choose to visit China, opting instead for the cheaper countries in the region. Despite the fact that China is about 3 hours from Hanoi.

Still a bit jet lagged from the 11-hour time difference and the 23 hour voyage, I spent the first day exploring the Forbidden City. Judging by the amount of people in this Forbidden City (photo above), it's obviously no longer forbidden! I walked around the site with one of those recording devices you can rent, where some lady with a weird British/Chinese account talks about the history in an unadjustably high volume. I still can't believe there is a city of 13 million people with a winter climate similar to Montréal. I always gave the smallish population of Montréal the climate-excuse. But this seems to defy that, so back to the drawing board (is the French language the next best excuse?).

The next day I explored the Great Wall of China with my Couchsurfing companion. It was much more impressive than I had originally thought. Also, much more dangerous. Some parts of the wall had a steep incline and no steps. I had to hold on to a railing and slowly slide my body down. I don't understand how the Chinese would have been able to run up these inclines to attack the invading Mongolians. At that point I couldn't even figure out how I would be able to survive another kilometre... with steeper inclines in the horizon, and being to far in to turn around (this, paired with my fear of heights). I persevered. 

Lenin Park

Literally across my new place is Lenin Park.

It's a small little triangular park dedicated to the Russian communist. Cat my new housemate and I have been enjoying the sights. We sit and stare at kids and teens break-dancing, robo-dancing, spinning on rollerblades and spinning soccor balls on their arms, head, and feet.

Oh and, babies driving around in mini cars.

(I apologise for the poor quality of my camera phone)

Cat and I laughed about how all these kids have to perform amazing things to get attention, and all we have todo is walk through the park and people turn their heads and stare.

Motorbike trip Hanoi - Chinese Border

A couple weeks ago I got a text from a new Vietnamese friend. He asked 'tomorow you want motorbike to china 2 nights. pls tell me soon'. And so unaware of Rebel's horrible return to Hanoi, I packed my bag and hopped on the back of the motorbike with no idea what I was getting into.

It turns out we joined a group of 22 other people - all Vietnamese. A group of young people who use an internet forum to organise motorbike trips around Northern Vietnam. The kind of organising that the communist government wants to stop.

After about a total of 12 hours sitting on a motorbike my ass hurt more than I could ever have imagined. It was a bit of a long journey just to frolic around a waterfall. We made several stops along the way, though. And the actual route was a loop, so we didn't have to backtrack.

Here are some photos of the butt-busting trip.

Eleven motorbikes were in the flot.

It was terrifying going around the mountains. Up up up then over and then down down down into another valley.

Halfway through our trip we stopped at a spring where national hero Ho Chi Minh had hid during the American War. This mountain is called Karl Marx (Cac Mac) and the spring is named after Lenin (Le-Nin). I got to see and touch Uncle Ho's actual bed inside the cave where he camped, although at first I thought it was a dinner table.

I don`t know who in the group decided on the route, but most of the roads where just blasted. And not yet finished. Though apparently they looked finished on the map. Someone must have accidentally bought the map titled "National Highway Masterplan 2008-2020"

This beauty of a road went on for about 13 kilometres. It took about an hour to go through. Not pictured here is the incredible incline that would probably not even be considered on developed roads anywhere else. I couldn't get a photo of the incline because I was holding on for my life. We passed many construction crews. Some of them asking me to come and smoke from their tabacco pipe with them. I kindly declined as what I needed to get me through the experience would have been much stronger.

This was the place we camped out on the second night. I say 'place' as I think that a cafeteria of a park station with all the chairs taken out and blankets spread out would be considered a place. Where else would you house 23 people who come knocking on your door.

I finally arrived at the waterfall. Except foreigners are not allowed in the border lands between China and Vietnam without a proper permit. The solution was to cover my face up like a criminal as we went through the check point. Who would notice?

Yes. Those are two men fishing on top of the waterfall in their underwear.

This is all of us!

Love Café

So what happens when you live in a society where opposite-sex intimacy is not acceptable in public? And what about if, in the same society, people live with their extended family?

You get Love Cafés!

Little cafés where you can sit in a booth that's hidden from view. Near work there was this cute love café down the hill from the main street. Little bamboo huts with bamboo blinds could be had with coffee or a smoothie. All of them come complete with a table and ONE long bench.

I tried once to get one. My Vietnamese teacher and I were trying to find a private place from the prying ears of Vietnamese youth (who had taken a liking to hearing me speak Vietnamese, going so far as sitting in the next table and silently observing me). The owner of the love café would have nothing of it, and refused to allow us in a booth. No same-sex couples (it's not like that... I pay him for lessons).

It doesn't matter because the Love Café has been destroyed by a storm. One day, while I was heading for a lesson, the main section where non-lovers would sit had complety collapsed. Nothing but a crushed straw roof.

My House and Neighbourhood in Hanoi

My camera has been stolen, so until then you will have to put up with photos from my mobile phone.

I should mention that I am moving to a new house soon. I figure now would be a good time to post about my current neighbourhood and house.

I live in the middle of a giant block. Between the two streets is a densely packed neighbourhood that one can access only through the alleyways that sprawl through the block like veins. In order to reach my house, you have to take a right from the main street, turn right, then turn left, go through a covered tunnel-like structure, pass the canal, take a right, then the left, then right, then left, then right, then left, then right again until you get to a dead end. This is about 10 minutes walk from the main road upon which my address is based. Taxi's cannot reach my house, let alone the fire truck (if there even is one in this city).

I find it completely amazing how houses organically sprung up from the ground. Pressures as a result of the loosening up of the tightly controlled Vietnamese market, called Đổi Mới, allowed for the dividing up of previously large tracts of land. As a result, you often see small one-level buildings surrounding by narrow 5-floor houses that were built on what I assume was one large housing-lot. The average house is only about 3-4 metres wide, but stretches 5 metres deep and 5 storeys tall, mainly because local taxes are based on the width of a building rather than the actual area.

Walking through the maze of alleyways, it seems like houses were pieced together like a puzzle, one house being built to another, and other just filling up spaces between two randomly places houses on a lot. The alleys came later, as spaces between buildings for moving people, bicycles and motorbikes. Alleyways hold their own businesses and shops. Along the way to my house from the street I pass by a school, a vegetarian-food lady, many hair salons, guesthouses, food sellers, motorbike repair and wash shops, etc. Within the same block, there are many other alleys that are densely lined with these businesses, mimicking a main street. The block also has a huge square surrounded by houses where vegetables, meat and prepared foods are sold. You wouldn't know such a place was there unless you lived in the area and came across it somehow.

Starting in the morning, people on bicycles ride through the maze of alleys singing a jingle for the products they sell. There's people selling phở, bread, fried rice cakes, and people willing to buy your recyclables, or broken appliances, etc. It's a city within a city. And the best part is aside from the singing of the sellers and the kids playing in the alley, there is no street noise.

Vegetarian Hanoi

I've been here for about 9 months now. On the first day I arrived, I headed straight to this vegetarian restaurant I found on the New Hanoian. It is still one of my favourite vegetarian restaurants, and I go there at least once a week, if not several times a week. However, I have discovered quite a few vegetarian places within a 15-20 minute radius of my house. I use places because most of them are not really restaurants. They are usually people who set up some plastic stools and tables on the main floor and cook out of their kitchens once or twice a day (the picture above is of a street vendor who sells vegetarian Bun Cha and spring rolls at lunch).  Just counting on my hand, there are 6 of these places, if I include the lady who sells vegetarian food out of her freezer in my alley.

I imagine there are many more of these places, as about 4 of them were discovered just by chance of walking by and actually paying attention to what a sign says (ie. there was a certain threshold I passed in learning Vietnamese where I realised I can read and understand the world around me). The best places are usually these, the ones that are far into the alleys and are serving food in their living room! They also usually sell food for less than a dollar.

Dairy Is Hot...

Thinking about pocketting that disk of La Vache Qui Rit or that brick of butter? Think again!

Twitter Twit Twittering.... Tweet!

So I've finally given into Twitter. Now anyone can track me down by either checking out the Twitter Gadget on the right side of this blog, or following me on Twitter.com (please add me!).

Now I can let the world know when I am stuck in a squatter toilet with no toilet paper:

delucajon OMG, that Vietnamese sandwich I ate at lunch wanted to get out fast, squatter- and no tp hehe LMAO-literally. sent from mobile 22 minutes ago

In reality, it's because of my new job. As communications officer, I was given the responsibility of "figuring out" social media (probably because I am the youngest at work). How can I resist? I can spend hours reading about how Twitter and Facebook can help raise awareness. And my boss can't tell when I'm on the organisation's Facebook account or my own!

All this reading on social media convinced me my life would be much better if only I could summarise it in a 140 character message that's beamed across the internet.

So......   follow me!

Cockroach Encounters

Photo: Definitely not the largest I've encountered. This was in a bathroom in Halong City. 

 

The other day while cooking some pasta, a cockroach popped it's head out from my house mates cupboard just above the stovetop. I panicked. I grabbed a can of Raid (or more like Rade, considering the knock-offs they have here) and trembled as I tried to extinguish it's life. 

I thought above writing a post about this in story-form. But then figured it might be boring. So I thought, why not write it from the Cockroaches perspective?

'Exquisite!' I say aloud. A little bit too loud, so I glance over at my little larvae hanging out near the bottle of olive oil to make sure they are still asleep. I've come across a bag of Swiss muesli, a welcome change from the usual cupboard full of dried noodles and bottles of soy sauce in the next house over. Though I usually avoid lighted areas, I slowly make my way to the other side of the door. I am kindly rewarded. Underneath me is some sort of giant shiny cylindrical object that is rattling faintly and spewing steam from its sides while a comfortably hot airy mass hugs it's way up the cupboard. I rub my antennae together, soaking up as much heat as i can before i retreat back into the frigid 35 degree cupboard and it's strange foodstuff.

But wait- Sensing something i quickly freeze my antennae. Just beyond the silvery cylinder, a shadow slowly comes into focus. It looks strangely assembled. I long vertical body, with a silly and round top, and only two visible limbs. It moves closer, and then notice it is awkwardly moving on another set of two limbs. What a strange and sad creature. Surely, it too has come to bathe in the steam and warmth of this cylindrical god i have come to worship.

This sluggish creature moves so slow, i think to myself. It's surely taken it a whole 2 minutes just to saddle up to this silver steam god. Quickly, i notice this creature is also in possession of some strange metal cylindrical god. In one of its limbs it holds it up above the steaming god, closer to me. I then notice that attached to this large limb, there are four more limbs – no- five. Four are wrapped around this new cylindrical deity while another is firmly sitting on top.

SHIT – It dawns on me.... This is the monster from the tales grandma told me about. The ladybug coloured metal cannister filled with a water so potent it will send my exoskeleton into shock. I quickly dart to the other side of the cabinet. I wait to see if this sluggish creature can catch me in time, I can hardly contain my breath. I dash back over to where I emerged and the loudest most shrill screech escapes from the metallic devil. Deafened not only by this deathly noise, but also from my pin-head sized heart pumping, I finally seek refuge inside the cupboard. Shaking, I wait between a package of oatmeal and a bottle of fish sauce.....

Vietnamese Recipe: đậu phụ sả ớt (tofu with lemongrass and chili)

One of the main things I do here is cook (and eat). I will be posting some recipes that I've found, formulated or adapted.

This dish is for tofu with lemongrass and chilli. I learnt this one in Hoi An,

Ingredients:

• 200g of tofu
• 2 tsp of oyster sauce (or veggie oyster sauce or kecap manis or you can leave out)
• 3 tsp of stock powder (optional)
• 2 tsp sugar
• 4 tsp sesame oil
• 1 or 2 small red chilli (depending on level of spiciness)
• 2 stems of lemongrass, chopped (or you can use dry slices, maybe a couple of tablespoons?)
  
• 8 large cloves of garlic
• 1-2 tbs oil
• 2 tbs water

1. Cut tofu into cubes, and fry in a lot of oil until the cubes are sufficiently browned. Drain and set aside 
   
2. Put garlic, lemongrass and chilli in a mortar and pestle and grind to a paste. You can also use a hand blender.
3. Fry the lemongrass and garlic mixture lightly in oil on medium high heat, to let out the fragrance. Maybe a couple of minutes.
4. Then add the rest of the ingredients: sugar, sesame oil, stock powder, oyster sauce and water
5. When the mixture starts to bubble, lower the heat and throw in the fried tofu.
6. When thoroughly heated through, it's ready to serve.
   

This recipe serves maybe two people if you will eat other dishes, à la Vietnamese style. Otherwise I would definitely double this recipe.

Photos from Guangzhou, China

Diep and I find this cute café that sells Chinese sweet soups, very similar to Vietnamese chè. I had black sticky rice, young tofu (or silken tofu), and coconut milk. Not as delicious as Diep's green tea jelly cubes in young tofu flavoured with almond!


Beijing Street - one of the main commercial streets in Guangzhou. Just a big shopping mall with cobblestones. It was interesting to see this display (in the photo) where is exposes the foundation of a road that dates back 3000 years. Another view of Beijing Street.


Diep in the side mirror of a tuk tuk. There is something strange about being on a tuk tuk - arguably a remnant of a less-developed country - in streets lined with glistening and modern skyscrapers.

Here we were eating at a Vietnamese restaurant in China, after passing the border. Consistent with the Vietnamese attitude toward China, here are our bowls and plates. Sterilised and wrapped in plastic. And then they give us hot tea to further clean all the items.

Gratuitous Video Scene #7: The Mekong Delta

Here is a video of driving through the Mekong Delta. This is one of the most important river systems in Asia. Covered in jungle but densely packed with people and rice fields this is a beautiful corner of Vietnam.

If you find this video somewhat dizzying, imagine 10 hours in a car that is swerving back and forth into oncoming traffic at speeds you doubt are suitable for the poorly maintained and potholed road.

Oh Rainy Days!

The glistening surface of my flooded alley. Maybe about 30 cm.

Ok so, I never knew what monsoon weather meant. Even after learning about it in climatology class, I never really understood what made that different from our May Showers in Canada.

Well. Now I know that monsoon means a shitload of rain, wind, lightning and thunder in a short period of time. And this is usually followed by about 20 minutes of cooler weather, until the hot blazing sun comes back as well as the hazy humidity.

The night before last, there was a crazy storm that kept waking me up all night. Flashes of non-stop paparazzi lightning and jack-hammer rain pattering kept me tossing and turning from about 2am until maybe 6am. I kept waking up to open up my balcony door, expecting to see a witch on a motorbike cackle at me à la Wizard of Oz.

No witch. But my alleyway was flooded. My house is more elevated than the neighbours, and I could see they had sandbagged their living room and were using buckets to drain the knee-high water out of their house.

I decided that rather than risk getting an electric shock by driving my electric scooter to work (I ask: Can that happen?), Diep would drive me to work on his real motorbike. Bad choice. The larger boulevard, Kim Ma, was completely jam packed because it is about the only street in the area that doesn't flood (not something I call good engineering, but slightly better engineering). I sat there on the motorbike for about 10 minutes. Enough time to breathe in about 100 different toxic compounds and snap a few photos.

Kim Ma street grid lock. This is about the only street that doesn't periodically flood

We turned around to go back through my alley and out the other street, Doi Can. It seemed to have less traffic. We quickly realised it was seemingly traffic-free because two giant lakes at each side of my alleyway prevented any vehicles from passing. It was a real riot, people just idling and watching other motorbikes try and make the devilish feat across the lake, one-eye closed hoping water won't enter the exhaust pipe. We were not about to try that.

Doi Can street. Looks like some people decided to make the leap.

So. I went back home. Flood day!

Here's a video of when we decided to go back through the main alleyway. You'll notice a little bit of flooding.... but you soon realise that flood water came from the overloaded open-sewage canal! Just put your feet up.

(Once you hit the 35 second mark, you pass the alleyway to head to my house)

Cheap Eats: Breakfast in Vietnam

This morning I popped out of bed and decided I wanted to go and try bun bo Hue for breakfast. I had seen it on the breakfast menu of my favourite vegetarian restaurant, and and though it was twice as expensive as the usual breakfast item, pho, at only about 1.15 USD a bowl it was still a steal.

The vegetarian version of this soup from Hue has vegetarian beef and rice noodles and is flavoured with chilies and lemongrass. The main difference between pho noodles and bun noodles is that bun noodles are thin and round, and made fresh as I don't think they can be found dry. The soup also came with wedges of lime, more chilies (as if at the start of a 35+ degree day you really want to load up on the chilies), and a plate of fresh herbs and leafy greens.

It was different than what I am used to eating for breakfast: toast or cereal. No real Vietnamese would ever toast up some bread and spread it with peanut butter. It's still pretty rare to find a toaster or even an oven in the typical Vietnamese household.

The other day I introduced Diep to cereal. He didn't know what it was, but when I described it to him, he instantly knew what I was talking about. He had seen it on TV and in movies. Eager to try this new food, he followed me in the kitchen where I filled up a bowl with granola. He wasn't sure what to do next, so I instructed him to pour milk in the bowl. I had to do it for him, as he wasn't sure how much to put in.

In the end, he didn't really like it. It was cold and sweet. Something he just wasn't used to eating in the morning. I thought maybe we could alternate breakfasts between eating sticky rice and tofu (which is what he's been making) and cereal.

Oh well. I guess I'll just have to get used to eating more Vietnamese breakfasts, or risk him leaving so early in the morning.... trying to escape my dry toast and cold wet cereal!

Maybe tomorrow I'll get the 60-cent pho bo chay.

Hot Wheels: Electric Scooter

On my motorbike in front of my house

So I splurged. With the financial help of my parents, I bought a brand new electric scooter!

The Yamaha Metis was a little bit expensive, but still dirt cheap compared to the price one of these would cost in Canada. I just still have to ride my bicycle to the market, or else the market vendors will overcharge me for sure!

Gone are the days of biking in 38 degree weather, or else having to take a motorbike taxi or wait for my friend to come and pick me up. Gone are the days where I arrive at a dinner in the old quarter, panting in front of my dinner friends with dark patches of sweat slowly expanding in size over my chest and back.

And those days have been more and more often. Except for a couple odd days this past week where the temperature felt a chilly 28 degrees, I don't think ithas dropped below 35 for months.

Now I can zoom around in my exhaust-free scooter, planting trees and flowers in my wake. Seriously. Instead of carbon monoxide and volatile organic compounds spewing from the bike, hearts, stars and little princesses come out to tell you happy stories that smell like raspberry sorbet and vanilla.

You'd think this was true by some of the looks I get riding around! Sometimes I notice in my peripheral vision, a motorbike that seems to be riding at exactly the same speed as me. I only need to turn my head slightly to see a motorbike with three Vietnamese construction workers squeezed onto the tiny seat, all squinting at me with a puzzled look on their face. In those cases just nod and smile.

It's a pretty sweet bike. It goes about 40 km on one charge, takes about 4-6 hours to charge, and can reach up to 30-40 km/h. Traffic is often slow enough that I pass cars, motorbikes and bicycles easily!

Here's your chance: I haven't named my bike yet, so I need your help. I want to you help think of a name for it! Please leave your suggestions in the comments!

Asian Realisation #2 - I am Cool

As if some sort of force out there is correcting an imbalance, I am now officially cool.

9-year old Jonathan would never believe that 24-year old Jonathan would be walking around the streets with complete strangers waving and saying Hello! Yeah. If kids said Hello to 9-year old Jonathan, it was probably to distract him while another kid would run over to trip him. They would then steal his package of Jolly Ranchers and run off.

No, not even 13-year old Jonathan would believe that people would want to be his friend, let alone talk to him. If someone would have told me 12 years ago, that 15-year olds would see me in the street and yell YO! How are you!, and give me a thumbs up I would have told them they had one too many blue-razz Slurpees.

There is justice in the world.
Welcome to Vietnam.

Gratuitous Video Scene #6: Can Tho Street Spying

On my recent business trip to Vietnam's south, I had to unexpectedly return back to Hanoi early. Because of bad planning logistics, I spent an entire day in the city of Can Tho. At the centre of the Mekong Delta, Can Tho is not a particularly interesting city.

I sat for many hours on a bench at the riverside, staring at people walking by and judging whether not a foreigner napping on a bench would be too strange a sight. It seemed already strange enough that I was sitting there watching what looked like ordinary children shovelling a pile of sand casually left on the sidewalk into used linen bags. In 30+ degree afternoon weather, what else is someone in Vietnam supposed to do? Everyone else of the benches were napping!

That, and the lady who makes mia da, an iced drink made out of crushed sugarcane. I watched her for hours in between reading Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, methodically shoving fresh sugarcane into her mill. After this video was taken, she moved to my side of the street and I quickly signalled to her that I wanted one. It cost me about 30 cents.

Another Vietnamese Moment: Napping

I'm sitting at a restaurant with co-workers and representatives of the local government. After one woman, a manager in the the Vietnamese army, explains how romantic her husband was in asking her to marry him (these stories are much too common), I somehow mention how tired I am. I say this in Vietnamese, which of course elicits laughter from everyone at the table. It was Saturday, about 35 degrees in the Mekong Delta, and I woken up at 5am that morning.

After lunch and the many questions regarding the reasons I was not yet married, she invited all of us to her home.

I suppose she had seen that I was, in fact, quite tired because upon entering her house she pointed to a hammock set up in the middle of her kitchen. I had about an hour to kill before the next workshop and she insisted that I sleep there until then.

So there I was, rocking slightly back and forth in my dark pin-striped slacks and button-up shirt tucked in, curled up in the fetal position in a complete strangers kitchen in the Mekong Delta.

Her mother would come into the kitchen every now and then and tidy up or perform some other domestic chore. She was not paying much attention to the napping white boy.