Turns out the world is full of interesting, cheerful, insightful people, who speak many language, including English. Lucky for the ignorant, fat, monolingual Yankees, right?
(as I mention from time to time, if you’re reading this directly on Facebook, you may be missing some photos. I strongly suggest hopping over to www.minglefreely.com for the full effect)
And magnificent sunsets
Good evening and good morning (respectively) from Mũi Né. Saigon looms but a day or two away.
I’ve shed some tears thinking about this, because it signals that we’re near the end of our motorbike odyssey through Vietnam. There are no words, though I’ve written many, to truly describe how deeply and profoundly this journey has nursed, challenged, and enriched my soul. So I’ll stop now, because I’m getting teary, and I choose to eat more breakfast and write more later.
Here’s what the south calls an “omelette.” Delicious, but a total departure from the “piggies” that the Northerners call “omelettes.” This is more scrambled eggs poured into a blazing hot skillet and swirls around with ham and tomatoes. Blam, onto my plate. As I’ve mentioned before, most hotels offer a free breakfast of Dionysian proportions — fruit, eggs, bread, coffee, tea, the best damned strawberry jam I’ve ever had over and over — and I eat, like, five of them. Thankfully, the Viets live to serve and I’ve never been castigated.
Also, the “bacon” is actually bacon, but nowhere have I encountered a cook who knew how to crisp it. (Chris says this is true the world over). I suspect many places actually steam bacon. Not complaining, just observing. In fact, think I’ll order some more. Now.
Best Day of My Life, So Far. And it’s only 8:30 am.