The Second In A Multiple Parts Series


That's right, they serve field mice.

I've always paid attention to detail; the way my post-its have to be stacked in a pile from largest to smallest on my desk, always wearing 3 pairs of earrings, alphabetizing CDs, and other similarly neurotic things. But I've never had to pay attention to detail like I do when I work. Every table has to have a certain number of wetnaps and a flyer for the promotion of the moment, the table has to be set so that the utensils are exactly perpendicular to the edge, turn labels in when you want tea brewed, turn handles in when you want refills from the kitchen, only pick up tea pots when handles are turned out. That kind of thing.

Restaurants in Vietnam were certainly not like this. Thailand was, but only because we got the 4 star tourist treatment while we were there. Big fancy hotels, big fancy restaurants. When we were in Vietnam, we did the regular civilian thing, which meant eating like everyone else. On the street, sometimes in settings that made you do a double take followed by a raising of an eyebrow, places with utensils still stained from the previous cutomer's hot sauce. Sanitation and cleanliness there is definitely not what it's like here.

First of all, yes, eating outdoors does give you a healthy dose of sunshine, but when it's 45 degrees celcius and you can feel the UV rays breeding skin cancer in your pores, I doubt it's a good thing. Dinner provides somewhat cooler temperatures and refuge from the sun but then you're faced with another one of nature's enemies: mosquitoes. I !#$%^&* hate mosquitoes and they are the official bane of my little existence. I still have scars on my legs and feet from the 20+ bites I got in merely one week while in Ho Chi Minh. The little buggers seemed to have some sort of weird foot fetish because they wouldn't leave my tootsies alone. Two of the bites ended up swelling up so much that it hurt to walk and I was bed-ridden in the hotel for 3 days. Freaking blood sucking little...

But I digress.

Eating with one hand and swatting with the other can prove to be entertaining, but combined with the fear of not being able to walk for a few days does not provide for a relaxed meal. And there weren't just mosquitoes either, ants. Ants everywhere, crawling on my mother's coffee cup one morning too. When she complained and asked for another glass, the lady at the stand looked like she had never received such a request before and paused before taking it back. I wonder if she ended up spitting in the new coffee. That's why when I found hair in my food I picked it out, shut up and ate my noodles.

Hair. Hair everywhere. It's always in your food and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. The way I see it, at least it's cooked, right? That way all the potential germs have died, right? Right?

1:51 pm