The traffic here is absolutely unbelievable, it is actually so bad that years ago most citizens got rid of their cars and bought motos since they are much easier to get around and park. As you can see, there are no traffic signals or signs, (they would get ignored anyway,) so if you waited for traffic to stop you would literally never get across... What you have to do is just step out and, no matter what, keep moving at a reasonably slow pace and they will flow around you. You must not lose your nerve or get rattled and speed up or stop because that will mess up the ones aiming to miss you and you will get hurt. I tend to just look for a slight gap right next to the curb and go, then don't look at oncoming traffic - I just saunter gently across, trusting that I will make it alive. It definitely takes a little getting used to! Even more amazing is that there don't seem to be any accidents. There are no glass fragments in any of the intersections like I see at home, and none of the vehicles have dents or dings. Maybe it's something VDOT should look at...
For those of you who know me, it should come as no surprise that for my first meal here last night, I went for Pho! I got hooked on this beef noodle soup years ago when I moved to DC, and if I haven't had some in a while, I get cravings. Those of you who I have introduced to Pho know what I mean, (and I'm sorry.) To the Vietnamese, who love Pho even more than I do, this national craze is like Hot Dogs, Mom, and Apple Pie all rolled into one - if you visited your Mom every day and she offered hot dogs and apple pie for all three meals. Maybe it's more like Coca-Cola... Anyway, I walked the entire neighborhood where I am staying twice looking for the perfect bowl. There are SO many options: little shops, family places, chains, push-carts and gourmet - all on every block. Plus, all the other restaurants have it on their menus as well. If I went into the local KFC, (and sadly, there are a bunch,) I bet I'd find Pho on the menu there, too! I finally picked a place named Pho Hung, right around the corner from my guesthouse and ordered a bowl. You get to choose your cuts of beef, and I went with eyeround, well-done flank and fat brisket. Moments later it appeared steaming in front of me and I took a deep whiff, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, this is gonna be good.." The waitress put all the additionals in front of me: limes, chili peppers, whole stems of basil and lemon grass, sprouts, hoisin sauce and spicy sauce, and I quickly added just what I like. I grabbed my spoon and chopsticks, gave it a couple of stirs and hoisted a stickful... Wow, what flavors! What taste! It's so damn good! Sadly, this bowl was the best pho I've ever had. I say sadly because I don't know how I'm ever going to repeat that experience when I get home. I'm ruined. I guess I'm just going to eat a ton of it while I'm here and then suffer forever...
I walked all over town today, trying to get a good feel for the people and visiting several markets, museums and pagodas. I also tracked down a coffee shop mentioned by Lonely Planet. Yes, that's right, I said coffee. I've managed to avoid my genetic pre-dosposition for caffeine dependency for a long time, but I've been hiding something that happened to me in Bali: I had a cup of coffee I loved. Don't worry, Mom, it's under control, (he says - hands jittering as he holds the blackened spoon and fills up the needle...) it's just part of this "explore the world" trip I'm on. I felt like doing the authentic local experience like I've seen immigrants do in my pho places at home and I tried something new with my awesome meal at the Pho place last night. But things took a turn for the worse, and it's name is Iced Milk And Coffee. French press Vietnamese coffee and condensed milk in a tall slim glass over ice - yummy! So when I read in my guidebook this morning about a super place named Seranta near a museum I was about to visit, I tracked it down and took another hit. I think I might be in trouble.
I like more on the Vietnamese menu than just Pho, and the cuisine here is excellent. It's hard to describe, but very special - kind of like Chinese with attitude and a French flair. Their liquor is interesting and different, too. I'd heard about the cobra liquor and while wandering from neighborhood to neighborhood and museum to pagoda today, something in a shop window caught my eye. There were some huge glass jars, (the kind that you see in museums with medical horrors inside, preserved and staring out at you,) with rearing cobras and scorpions floating around. I stepped in to get a closer look, and when the shopkeeper approached, I pretended to be looking for a bottle of water while I worked up my courage. He was really friendly and I suspect he saw right through me, but he was way too polite to mention it. When he gave me my change for the water and saw me slyly examining the jar on the shelf behind him, he waved towards it and said in seriously accented English, "I have every day. It makes me healthy and strong..." and then he made a certain hand signal which would the makers of Viagra would probably love to be allowed to put in their advertising. Seizing the opening, I asked some questions (not about that, pevs!) and learned that it's real snakes in some kind of rice liquor or wine and there is cobra blood in there, too. We talked for a while until I finally worked up the courage and asked for a shot or glass, however it came. Too bad, he only sells it by the bottle, but when he realized I wasn't going to buy a whole one, (can you imagine getting THAT through customs???) he went in the back and returned with his jar (a cobra, a scorpion, and several other unidentified snakes thrown in for good measure,) and two shot glasses - "Well, there's no getting out of this now," I thought. He dipped a glass in and handed it to me and then filled his own. With a clink and a deep breath on my part, down it went. A little fiery, slightly sweet, but it didn't taste anything like cobra. Of course I have no idea what cobras taste like anyway, but it was definitely better than the Italian grappa I tried one time. We laughed and talked for a bit, "where you from" kind of stuff, but he wouldn't let me pay him when I tried to. As I walked down the street, I took a mental inventory of how I felt - maybe a little tingly in the extremities, but I could just be imagining it. I'll have to get back to you on the long-term effects. Maybe;)
As I sit here in an internet cafe at almost 10PM, the place is packed with Vietnamese kids playing World Of Warcraft and some Kung Fu fighting games. But the most amazing part is the little boys on either side of me who are linked online and madly (and loudly,) playing some kind of Covert Ops shoot-em-up... One looks about six and I just asked and found out the other is three!!! He's not doing that great, his older brother keeps popping him the way Martin always toys with me at Halo, but I'm still impressed he's even capable of getting it at his age.
That's all for now, I'm off to meet up with some people to go out... I'll write about the Cu Chi Tunnels and the Mekong Delta later.
So Long,
Clement
