wanderings of a wonderer and vice-versa.

I made him walk in circles (/rectangles?) around the moonlit blocks of Pham Ngu Lao and its sister streets. My mind was made, as usual not by its own self but by its superior counterpart, my stomach- sending us off on this culinary mission.

The film strip rolled in the background, diverting our attention with every second frame. Cue motorbikes. Street markets. The notorious question, “Where are you from?”. Motorbikes squeezing through the alleyway and just past my left elbow. Notorious question number two, “Marijuana…?”. The Gentlemens Club bouncer working hard at his doorpost- sleeping in his chair. Fruit shop! Sorry, no custard apples. Abandoned sunlight-stirred markets, the small few left to pick up the day’s remnants in preparation for tomorrow’s; soiled pink dragonfruit skins, stray rice noodles, bok choy leaves tattered by hurried feet. Another corner. The melodies from a nearby childrens park resonate in the sticky night air and break the ever-playing soundtrack of Vietnam’s traffic disco, just for a few seconds, as we pass by. Glimpses of tourists in bars, nursing cocktails and flirting with freedom. How differently one’s time here could be spent. What were they looking for tonight, I wonder?

Finally, a light. The reel is paused.

“How much?” we ask, as I ever so enthusiastically caress the bumpy green gem in my hand. The squatting old lady with smiling eyes raises ten fingers and thumbs, then two. 1200 dong, right. Her eyes grin in amusement and I correctly add another zero to the figure after much finger mathematics and eagerly scoop up three more. I look like I’ve just won the lottery and successfully portray ourselves as odd foreigners from a faraway, obviously custard apple barren, country. I care not as we depart, winners. Back in the hotel room, I am excited and doubly so to make further use of our genius pre-bought knife-sporks. I cut and scoop and the first taste of this literal fruit of our labour is… tough. And bitter. And a discovery that they are in fact, totally unripe! Shit.

But- this is okay.

Partly because they would ripen soon enough. Partly because we had a good perve at Evening Saigon as she forgets to sleep once again. And partly because I made him walk in rectangles for a custard apple, and he did. That is enough sweet to tie me over.