Ho Chi Minh.
I was woken-up by our neighbours. All sorts of amazing smells were coming into my room. Somehow rather, I had left the window open, the night before.
Fascinated by the smells, I scrambled for my glasses and took a look at my cell phone. 4.30am? I took another look. Yes, 4.30am. When did my neighbours start cooking? How early did they wake-up from their slumber? Why am I still in bed asking all these questions to myself?
With my head still up in the clouds, I went to the balcony and peered over. A few aunties had set-up a few tables, right at their doorstep. Noodles, rice, meat and vegetables. A sumptuous spread. The tables were filled with a wide variety of food, just waiting for people to buy. Every now and then, I could see motorcyclists making a quick stop to grab a quick bite.
Hearing all the chatter. Seeing the warm exchange of smiles. Smelling the wonderful aroma of each delectable-looking food. All of these reminded me of the morning and night markets that I used to frequent to when I was in Malaysia.
I just had to experience it, the Vietnamese way.
12.38 noon, Malaysian Time