Foreign supermarkets will always be strange. You can buy everything but not the thing you really crave–a taste of home.
There’s only one thing more disgusting than having nothing to sell at the market than rodents. That’s being the tourist who wants to take a picture. Me.
This is the picture you see on tourist websites for the golden Buddha in the Tham Phu Kham Cave in Vang Vieng, Laos. What they don’t show you is the black hole behind it, the one that I fell into, in spite of the flash light strapped around my head.
I think of their experience while I am in exile in Laos during the Corona frenzy where my only regret is not packing my yoga mat.
I am in a remote area of Loas known as Four Thousand Islands (Si Phan Don). It’s one of those places you go when you run out of places to go.
There’s only one thing worse than traveling in China’s during the spring festival. That’s knowing that one of the passengers is the Corona Virus.
Being a transplant from Chicago where rats are the size of an Italian Beef sandwich, I grapple with why the Chinese celebrate the year of the Rat 大 鼠.
Other than the sea food and my cutesy “this should be featured on Pinterst” homestay, Can Tho is the Cleveland of Vietnam. Totally blue collar with no hawkers trying to sell you trinkets or drag you on a day tour. I meandered to the local fresh market where I purchased my coveted souvenir: sea salt.
Does wearing weird clothing make music sound better?
I’ve been at the Epizode music extravaganza this week in Pho Quoc, Vietnam, that is, if you consider techno music er uh, music.