There's a big downpour in the afternoon which I use as my excuse to catch up on a weeks worth of blogging. Ensconced, I type away until it's time for dinner.
Under great protest by all the participants, I take Minh, Cuong, his wife and my father out for dinner.
We sit down and are given each a bunch of little dishes of stuff and in the centre there is a sizzling miniwok filled with oil and fish and dill. This just keeps on getting filled with more fish and as the night goes on. My father sits to the left of me smoking and drinking beer with his meal. Minh and Cuong have some beer too. Cuong's wife has water and I have a lemon shake. The fish is delicious and (thank Darwin) boneless.
It's then that I notice that everyone has this bowl of pink grey paste except for me. I ask for one too and Minh just says no, and then a bowl of plain fish sauce is placed in front of me instead. I protest and say that I want what everyone else has. She then reluctantly agrees and gets the waiter to get me some of the pink paste. It turns out to be a type of shrimp paste that has a very strong odour and taste. They were all afraid that I wouldn't like it, because many non-Vietnamese don't. I like it quite a bit and Cuong comments that I can eat like a Vietnamese...I find this comment funny.
Then Cuong says that our father's family makes the paste. My dad comes from a small sea side community in the middle of Vietnam. His father was a fisherman and he comes from a long line of them. He said that his town is very beautiful and no tourists go there because it's small. He says that I should visit sometime.
Cuong mentions that his dad has always talked about me, and never let him forget that he had a sister somewhere.
Tomorrow I leave for a 9am flight to Bangkok. My vacation is almost over.
Under great protest by all the participants, I take Minh, Cuong, his wife and my father out for dinner.
We sit down and are given each a bunch of little dishes of stuff and in the centre there is a sizzling miniwok filled with oil and fish and dill. This just keeps on getting filled with more fish and as the night goes on. My father sits to the left of me smoking and drinking beer with his meal. Minh and Cuong have some beer too. Cuong's wife has water and I have a lemon shake. The fish is delicious and (thank Darwin) boneless.
It's then that I notice that everyone has this bowl of pink grey paste except for me. I ask for one too and Minh just says no, and then a bowl of plain fish sauce is placed in front of me instead. I protest and say that I want what everyone else has. She then reluctantly agrees and gets the waiter to get me some of the pink paste. It turns out to be a type of shrimp paste that has a very strong odour and taste. They were all afraid that I wouldn't like it, because many non-Vietnamese don't. I like it quite a bit and Cuong comments that I can eat like a Vietnamese...I find this comment funny.
Then Cuong says that our father's family makes the paste. My dad comes from a small sea side community in the middle of Vietnam. His father was a fisherman and he comes from a long line of them. He said that his town is very beautiful and no tourists go there because it's small. He says that I should visit sometime.
Cuong mentions that his dad has always talked about me, and never let him forget that he had a sister somewhere.
Tomorrow I leave for a 9am flight to Bangkok. My vacation is almost over.
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