Every morning after my market visit, I headed over to the little café on the main street of the fishing village. It was filled with Viet men hanging out.. not a single woman. I ordered coffee with milk. It arrives sitting in the little metal cup drip drip dripping down into heavy condensed milk. You stir it up then I realize that the glass is sitting in a mug with a small amount of hot water to keep it warm and also to add as you wish to lighten the incredibly heavy drink, thick with caramel like milk and topped with muddy coffee.
But the coffee is rich and deep, expertly roasted. I think Vietnam is the only country in asia with a real coffee culture, a major plus in my book. The stuff is so thick and rich that they serve it with tea and people wash it down sip by sip. If you order it iced, they bring you the same thing plus two cups of ice (one for coffee and one for tea.) All this costs 5,000 Viet Dong – 30 cents.
The first day there a guy started talking to me in perfect English –and n one speaks any English there. He said he lived in canada for 17 years and has been back for 8. He asked if I was married. “Yes.” Is she with you? “Yes.” “Too bad. You have a lot of fun fuck Vietnam girl. Put it anywhere.” “Uh, I’ll keep that in mind. So what do you do here?”
“No papers. Government took when I came back from Canada. They say I’m a bad by. Now nothing left to do but sell cocaine.”
“You get in trouble in canada?”
Smile and nod.
“Well, nice talking to you.”