Scott's Southeast Asian Adventures

One. Heat. It's February folks. It's the coolest time of the year. It's still 90 degrees. Today I walked out of my house, hopped a xe om (motorbike taxi) to the ferry dock, crossed the river, walked about five blocks to a French bakery for the best roast beef sandwich in Saigon, and proceeded to pound a beer faster than the cashier could ring it up. I challenge anyone to do that 20-minute journey in a temperature that's hotter than four hells and not quaff at least one. No chance. Two. The stuff is cheap. I mean really cheap. Like, a dollar. In a restaurant. Go to the store and it's more like 50 cents. And I'm not talking about Keystone Light quality. I'm talking Heineken, Tiger, Bud. The Czech kind. If I was in Salt Lake City, the only place I'd be able to find that would be at the Bayou, where they'd probably charge me 5 bucks for something lukewarm because a minute ago it was in storage. Oh, then they'd expect me to tip. Here's a tip:

This is what I found myself asking the moment Claire and I landed in Vietnam's former imperial capital last Monday night. There was a light drizzle coming down and the air had bite, just like the Pacific Northwest does in February, when spring is right around the corner but still feels miles away. It actually didn't seem so bad at first. After all, it was fresh. And that's not something you can say about Saigon, the screwy and sometimes stifling city we've been living in for six months now. But then it lingered, that weather. For four days. I've got a sinus infection to prove it. Only here's the thing: It was worth it. And here's why: What a place! If it's not the most soulful spot in Vietnam, it's close. Tattered old buildings draped in mildew and moss. Ancient temples and tombs resting amid casuarine pine forests. A river running through it. Oh, and it was Tet. The Lunar New Year. The holiday of all holidays in this part of the world. We stayed wit