Day 1 #2

This morning Alex and I parted ways for some solo travelling. As our itineraries are quite similar I'm not sure how long we'll go before running into each other (the backpacker's Vietnam is surprisingly small). Anyway, rather than focus on a particular experience or insight, I thought it would be fitting to document my day, an average one remarkable in many ways.

I started off by renting a Vespa-like motorbike - which I am now proficient at navigating, despite the broken front brake - and riding out of town (Hue, by the way) in the general mapless direction of the Royal Tombs. I must have taken a wrong turn, as the road turned dirt and rocky shortly after leaving town, but it was a pleasant ride nonetheless. I was surprised yet again by the local response to the big whitey on the motorcycle; I was greeted not with anger and resentment as I originally anticipated but with smiles and friendly waves.

Back in the city I headed to a street vendor I had visited the other day for a heaping plate of steamed rice piled high with cold dressed green beans, thin spicy noodles, a small glazed pork chop, and a whole egg that had been hard-cooked and then deep-fried. Ladled over all was a soy-type sauce with chiles and garlic and herbs floating around in it. Strange combination of foods but satisfying.*1

As I ate an older local guy sidled up to me and started chatting me up in pretty solid English. He had learned it in the '70s when the Americans visiting. I felt awkward at the mere mention of our respective countries' shared history but he seemed genuinely friendly so I tried to be as well.

In the afternoon I headed over to the Citadel, a massive walled off complex in the middle of the city that had formerly served as the imperial capital back in the day. Peaceful grounds, lots of Chinese palace buildings with engravings of dragons all over the place, and, strangely, tenements lining the outer wall.

After returning the motorbike and briefly resting, it was, of course, time to venture out in search of food. I walked along the riverside, pleasantly made into a sculpture garden with plentiful benches and families strolling around. There were several vendors set up along the street, so I stopped at the first one I came to: small bowl of chicken broth, but oddly grayish and opaque, perhaps from the rice in it; mixed veg of mint, bean sprouts, morning glory, scallions; and some little fried airy crunchy things on top, reminiscent of what I think are pork rinds (?). Chile throughout for a good lip sear. Throughout it all there were two Vietnamese women - I think I gathered they were mother and daughter - sitting with me and evidently carrying on a conversation with me. For not understanding a word they said, I guess I responded surprisingly accurately.

Vendor number 2: small black snails simmered in their shells with a ton of lemongrass, served with a dipping sauce of chiles and fish sauce, and a plate of sliced fresh cucumber. Quite nice. And the occasional "'Allo" from the table behind me, prompting me to turn around to meet three giggling little girls turning away from me, only to say "'Allo" again once I resumed my dinner.

I saw the stadium lights in the distance so I headed over in the hopes of catching the soccer game, but all I found upon arriving was an empty field and some weary young Asians lifting weights to 1980s American pop music. I think it was Madonna.

Back at the guest house now and hungry, so perhaps a short stroll for some more food and a beer. Then a shower*2 and off to a new place tomorrow.


*1 A note on the set-up of these street vendors. I don't know if Big Al's Deep Discount was having some sort of liquidation sale, but every one is equipped with miniature plastic chairs and tables. Too small even for the locals. More than once have I inadvertantly lifted the whole table on my knees, and then stood up and found the chair still affixed to my body.

*2 In the vast majority of my experience thus far, a shower requires two changes to a normal bathroom: (1) a shower head anywhere on any wall, and (2) a drain in a corner of the bathroom, preferably downslope from the showerhead. Viola, a fairly uncomfortable shower.