Hello, Vietnam!
To be perfectly honest, I wrote those words, "Hello, Vietnam!" about a month and a half ago. At the time, I was sitting in an internet cafe in a town called Dalat in the highlands of the South Central Vietnam. My internet connection was flickering in and out, and my photos took about 20 minutes to upload. Each. Currently, I am back in the U.S., sitting on my mac with all of my photos pre-uploaded and a lightning-fast internet connection. And for some reason it is now the words that are coming at 20 minute intervals. Nonetheless, if you will humor me by putting on your time-traveling hat (rice hats acceptable) and turning off your squeamers (I made this word up, but have grand plans of adding it to the urban dictionary ASAP) : this story begins and ends with a snake.
To get to this point, however, I had to survive a Saigon monsoon of epic proportions, a not-so-pleasant reminder that I am most definitely allergic to MSG, and the heat of a thousand blazing suns. Or at least one blazing sun...but I promise it was a really really hot one. Leaving Saigon, I headed south into the Mekong Delta, where I had every intention of making my big sis proud and taking off on a three day bike ride through the delta. Unfortunately, the janky bike I rented, the aforementioned sun, and the heavy traffic, did not agree that this was the best idea ever. Instead, 3 days became 1. But it was nice to get out of the town and onto the back roads. And judging by the stares and gaping jaws I elicited, I would say it was as novel for the locals as it was for me.
The next day, I checked out a couple floating markets, which are really convenient if you have an urge to purchase 500 dragonfruits.
And while I wasn't in the market for dragonfruit...I did finally try durian. For those of you who are unfamiliar with durian - stay that way. The taste is somewhere just in between rotten pineapple and gasoline. A little closer to the gasoline side. Now toss in the consistency of a slime mold and you've got yourself a Southeast Asian delicacy. And an Adam retching on the side of the road.
If I had to make a wild guess...I would say this sign reads: Don't eat this god-awful fruit. Ever. Or something to that extent. After recovering from that nauseating experience, I decided to pamper myself a bit with a haircut, massage and, always intrigued by local medicinal practices, a little cupping:
But don't worry, I didn't go quite as extreme as this guy:
From the delta, I headed back north through Saigon on my way up to Dalat...where I learned that arriving in a town where you don't speak the language at 3:30 AM without hotel reservations...is not the most prudent of actions. But that brings me to another sister of mine....
