subtle

bombardment occurs on a daily basis,


i've noticed.

the rain comes as it pleases, phone calls assert themselves at whenever, and the sun hits you when it feels like it.
languages shift faster than sliding doors, and aunts and family members drop in and out as fast as the rain comes.

my daily intake of sensory overload keeps me distracted. currently i am attempting to identify the sounds of food carts to the food that they sell.

corn man blasts loud vietnamese music (what a great idea)
icecream man has this charming little tune (same one as those in Hanoi)
sweet tofu lady screams out in a opera like voice (thooowffuuuuuu)

many of these sounds prompt me to get really excited and yell out the food that they are selling.

TOFU!
ICECREAM!
CORN!

i am now on the prowl for the roasted peanuts cart.


distracted as i am, i am even more entertained by my daily activities, even more so because i live in a small city where my mom once grew up. its always been a strange dream of mine to be here and here i am creating stories of my own.

although the sun beats, there is something new to discover each day.

i live a few blocks away from an open market, where i drop by at least once a day to get food. blinded by the myriad of fruits, the smells of putrid fish, and the brown tinge of metal walls, i didn't realize anything more until one of my mom's best friends took me around to introduce me to food vendors i can trust.

at around 7 am she showed up at my work with a huge smile and a really awesome plastic pale mermaid green grocery basket. (i want that basket). she asked if i was hungry. yes. having never been up this early i instantly noticed the different sounds and sights around me. more people were out. it was noisier.

behind the smoothie cart was this bustling street food stall. vegetarian noodle dishes, each made in a specific way according to the type of noodle you choose. by 12 its gone. but at 7 am it was awake, alive, with people moving in every direction. kids were drinking tea out of the tea cooler. women were yelling at the kids for drinking out of the tea cooler. women were making noodle dishes and tossing things in a domino like order. once the noodles fell in, next were vegetables, pieces of vegetarian meat, some protein things, green onions, and the final piece, broth. we sat in the front as if we were at a sushi bar.

after that we went to a vegetable stand, a fruit stand, a store for soaps and personal products (here the enthusiastic lady spoke to me in english quiet well and told me she wanted to practice her english as her son was shy and did not want to talk to her in english) and another store for different food products. again my mind was going nuts over how this market changed when i realized the relationships people had with one another and how different this experience was for me with someone who knew this place like i knew the inner workings of a college radio station. the familiarity was refreshing and the market became more welcoming. i followed my aunt quickly as she navigated me through these untrodden paths (for me).

i then asked for a small towel to wash my face. "why didn't you tell me before?" and she takes my hand and leads me past the wet floors of fish and meats and vegetables into an alleyway in the midst of everything. "why have i not seen this before?!" i wondered to myself. i was astonished to find an entire row of crammed shirts, pants, towels, hair pins, and miscellaneous from the floor to the roof in neatly packed shops nestled and seeping into one another.

with my set of baby towels and other items from the day: ripe grapefruits, a tissue box, 5 bags of noodles, and 1 kilo of small green apple like fruits, I exited the other end of the mysterious tunnel to a road that i found familiar.


it had occurred to me that the knowledge held within this market was immense. especially with the women in this small city.

ask yourself what it means to be well traveled, well cultured, well ___________. to see the world means nothing when you haven't experienced it.


and that they have, they just don't realize it.