February 11, 2015

Day Three in Paradise

Today I woke up at about 2:30 AM, absurdly enough; being that the internet is well-connected here, this meant I stayed up the five hours until breakfast. I had posted a photo on Reddit the past night and as of now it's accumulated a score of almost one thousand. I answered some comments and questions on the photo, and went down to eat breakfast a few hours later.

Anna, somewhat disheveled, dressed in tights, a skirt, sandals, and a slightly over-sized coat, exited a room nearby into the reception area/dining room I was seated in. I asked for the options, as I'd forgotten all but the banana pancakes, and she relayed the choices to me again. It was somewhat difficult to understand her, but in the end she offered to make both the banana pancakes again, and the eggs with meat of some sort and a dozen or so toasted pieces of bread on the side. It was good, as breakfast usually is, but I think the banana pancakes are still my favorite of the dishes she's served me for breakfast.

I went back to my room to pack for a day's expedition, and came back down to get the bike and be on my way. Anna informed me that I could use the bike for free all I wanted.

I continue to be showered with kindness in Vietnam.

Today's expedition was to a restaurant listed on Google Maps as Tam Coc Bich Dong Restaurant, somewhat northwest of Anna Tham's hotel. The journey by land was long and hard, which made me wonder whether the restaurant was only supposed to be accessible to boats traveling along the river.


Both the bike's tires and my shoes are caked in clay-ish mud and some vegetation gathered along the way. Some paths are not intended for bikes, so I was forced in some instances to carry the bike. Part of the path I took toward the restaurant was made of clay, which in the wetness of the day had grown soft and slippery, leading to bad traction in those areas. Other parts of the path were paved with about one foot square slabs of concrete, and cemented together as well. Some were gravel, as well.

All these paths, though, failed to bring me to a restaurant. In the end, probably less than 50 feet from the point marked on Google Maps, I found this:


There may technically be a restaurant at this location, but it is not for humans.

As has become habit, I returned by the rice paddies to the Bamboo Restaurant again, and tried to sit down without getting anything dirty; parts of my clothes were soiled with the mud from the tires and the ground I'd biked over. my shoes in particular ended up leaving behind some mud on the floor and the crossbar of the table near the floor.

Having sat down, I looked at the menu for a while; much of the food isn't really very cheap, as it's more exotic or difficult to come by in Vietnam, such as beef and goat, but my experience thusfar told me that almost anything on the menu would be worth the price listed.

The french-speaking Swiss lady whom I've mentioned before returned to my table for my order, and I chose to go with her recommendation. I don't know if anything on the menu is better than what I ate this afternoon, but I'll break it down for you and try to give you an idea of how good it is.


As you can see, there's a plate of goat meat on the table mat, flanked by silverware. To the left you have a set of rice paper, a green leaf of some sort, mint leaves, and both pineapple and carrot slices (banana slices were also added when my condiment plate was refilled). I got a bowl of rice to supplement the condiments, which wasn't entirely necessary, and finally I ordered a plate of eight various spring rolls. The cup in the top right is fresh squeezed lemonade.

It is difficult for me to describe what it tastes like when you put this in your mouth.


The taste of mint becomes subtle adjacent the tastes of meat and fruit, vegetable and green. The tastes complement each other spectacularly. The dipping sauce provided was also delicious, but the wraps tasted phenomenal with or without it. As I was eating it, I was confident that my mother would adore this dish.

As I was finishing the dish, an English couple walked in and were seated nearby; they asked me if the food was good, and upon my hearty recommendation of the goat, the woman said she'd tried goat before, and it had been rather tough.

More for me, I guess.

After I paid for the meal, which, even at almost fifteen dollars, was an excellent deal, I meandered outside, rather unsure of myself; since I'd first met this Swiss woman, her smile had made an already extraordinary countryside stay something other-worldly. I chose, at length, to go back and talk to her a bit. Initially, the owner came out, but I gestured to her, and she came out to talk to me instead. I asked her how long she was going to stay in Vietnam, as well as her name.

"Melinda," she said.
"Melina?" I asked, her accent difficult to decipher.
"Melinda," she repeated.
I then told her that her smile was a great compliment to the restaurant, and that her service was as well. In somewhat broken English, she informed me that she was blushing.

She was curious if was intending to leave soon, as I'd asked how long she'd be staying there, and while I'm not positive I'll be staying tomorrow or the next day, I haven't really decided when to leave, either. I told her I'd probably be back multiple times to the restaurant.

It'd gotten dark by the time I biked home, and Anna's bike doesn't have a light on it, so I rode home largely in the dark.


Good night from Vietnam!


!Noah!

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