By the time I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City and checked into my hostel, it was already past midnight. My hope for a decent meal faded. I looked at my “must-eat” list and consoled myself that everything would be checked off soon, albeit after a night’s wait.
With that hope, I began searching for places that guaranteed I wouldn’t head to bed on an empty stomach. Decisions had to be made–my options were limited to McDonald’s or instant noodles from a departmental store around the corner. Instant noodles were it. McDonald’s, I decided, was my last resort–as it often is in a new country.
After a five-minute walk, I found myself scanning the shelves of a 24/7 convenience store. Bright blue, yellow, and red packs with bold illustrations of shrimp, squid and fish screamed at me, and before I knew it, my basket was full.
I quickly returned to the hostel and, in the dimly lit community kitchen, made my first meal in a destination famous for kerbside pho. After slurping up the last noodle and braving the tongue-numbing heat, my first meal came to an underwhelming end.
How could I tell my mind, after it had conjured up images of everything I’d be eating in Vietnam that this was how it had to begin? And in that moment, my otherwise cautious mind gave way to the impulse of being in a new country—a place known for neon-coloured lanes and tiny plastic stools pouring out on the streets—and ordered, “No way! You’re in Vietnam!”
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