The Pursuit of Adventure » Vietnam http://www.thepursuitofadventure.com The Pursuit of Adventure Wed, 14 Jul 2010 01:00:07 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 Just how it is, in Vietnam http://www.thepursuitofadventure.com/just-how-it-is-in-vietnam/ http://www.thepursuitofadventure.com/just-how-it-is-in-vietnam/#comments Fri, 31 Oct 2008 03:32:42 +0000 zoe http://thepursuitofadventure.com/?p=35 31 10 08 (2)In Vietnam it rains so hard that it’s impossible to do anything. The world stops, the traffic slows and the shops are shut. Locals take refuge and crazy tourists (like me) buy cheap umbrellas and try to find things to do.
Its 8am and I’m trying to find a coffee, or breakfast, without having to pay western prices. Gingerly navigating the marble, spiral staircase I have to step over the sleeping bodies of the young men who run my guest house. I let myself out the front doors and walk out into the rain. I can take the rain. As I carry on up the street the rain picks up and within seconds I am drenched from head to toe. Trying to duck into the small awnings of shops is no good.
“Madam” a lady on the street calls out to me “Umbrella” – oh thank god, I think to myself. “How much?”
“80,000” about 5 USD, a cheap price back home, but this is Vietnam, baby. It should be half that price.
“40,000”I counter
A hail of Vietnamese sounds like she is abusing me for offering such a low amount and she finally says “60,000”
“No no no too much” I feign disappointment and start to walk away.
“Okay okay, 50,000” she calls me back and I hand her the cash.
My new umbrella is pink and keeps the rain off my face, but not off my body. I keep walking. My shoes are soaking and make squelching noises with each step, but I need a coffee, wet or not.
Cafe Moca is the first I come to, and I shake my pink umbrella and step over the threshold. Everything is marble or wood and the prices are extortionate (by Vietnamese standards, of course). Books and postcards are for sale here, and it has the feel of a “safe haven” for westerners.
When my coffee comes it is as black as night, with lashings of thick condensed milk sitting in the bottom waiting to be stirred through. I’m feeling sensitive, so I add sugar and stir, gazing into the cup as the black coffee lightens to a pleasing cafe latte colour. My first sip burns my lips and is strong enough to strip the hair off a gorillas back, but I persevere. This is just how coffee is, in Vietnam.

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