My stomach: The Viet Nam Story

Viet Nam. A country of contrasts. The mountainous village tribes of the North. The river life of the Mekong Delta in the South. Ho Chi Minh, a city of wide boulevards and fancy shops. Hanoi with the small winding (dangerous!) alleyways of the Old Quarter. In the middle, the beautiful historical towns and beaches that provide a more calm contrast to it's large neighbors in the South and North. I'm spending two weeks here, exploring and getting lost and I'm loving it.

Like that of the tonal language I cannot pronounce, the food that is so delicious yet varied, and that of the contrasting cities and countrysides that make you believe you're in another country depending on your coordinates, I've decided to go all Rambo on my posting, and take it not chronologically, but by ideas, exeriences, and memories.

As with all things in my life, I shall lead with my stomach.

Let's just get this straight out on the table right away, the food is off the chain. I have eaten so much and so well and so constantly that my stomach is almost too overwhelmed, too full on deliciousness. Vietnam is a food powerhouse! Western food, traditional Vietnamese, French bakeries, Thai food, Chinese, Indian, Spanish, the list goes on and on!  Not only is it diverse and awesome, it's so cheap! Coming from Japan where I eat at convenience stores for lunch and still pay the same price if not more for a huge meal here, the prices here are awesome, so much so, that it only adds to my overeating since I figure it's so cheap, what's another big meal...hehe

On another note, while a few friends were concerned that I would face challenges in eating vegetarian here in Vietnam, I have found quite the opposite. As long as there is an English menu or a friendly waiter willing to help me out, I (that being the grand entity of my stomach) am almost always in the delicate state of food-baby.

My two week pregnant stomach would like to give a few shout outs to its favorites so far:

To the delicious bread roll that I discovered while walking down by the Temple of Literature in Hanoi and that I fought Vietnamese women for when you first came out of the oven: 
Your buttery goodness is a sin for a vegan on vacation. Your warmth and gooeyness warms my soul. Your caloric content and bad cholesterol has taken years off of my life. Thank you for entering my life.

To the red and green fruits that I bought at a bus stand:
 I don't know your real names, yet I know you are strange and delicious. Throughout the first week of travel, I didn't dare to dream of your exotic tastes and flavors in the face of white girl priced fruit that street ladies tried to gip me for. At long last, I was able to purchase and taste your oddities thanks to posted prices in a bus stop in the middle of the Mekong Delta.  In a moment of extreme happiness, I, like Noah, got two of each of you and with my sister (hopefully unlike Noah...this might be wrong to joke about, esp. according to my beliefs,  but what tasty animals are you meat eaters missing out on thanks to a long 40 days at sea?), munched down awkwardly upon.  Since then, I still haven't been graced by your presences often (stupid white girl prices), but I thoroughly enjoyed trying to figure out how to eat you.

To Indian food:
To the garlic naan. To the curries. To the samosas. Just talking about your goodness is making me hungry (and I had curry for lunch...)  Right next to our alley located hostel in Ho Chi Minh was the first time I met Indian food in Vietnam. Old Indian men sat amongst you chatting the night away. The next night, in a city known for it's culinary restaurants of amaziness, we couldn't resist your tempting presence and ate at the same Indian restaurant, literally next door to our hostel. The same Indian men and a few new men sat there chatting, while Kelly and I stuffed our faces before our flight to Da Nang. While the flight story is for another post of craziness, we almost missed our flight because of a confusion on our parts, and thus had quite literally 10 minutes to eat you. We literally ate so fast that we were sick the whole car ride to the airport. Indian food, oh how cheap and delicious you are.

To the vegetables: 
You know your own praises.

To Kelly and the Vegetable Spring Rolls (which oddly sounds like some hipster band name):
 I give all the credit to Kelly on this one. My stomach thanks Kelly for ordering you our first night, which led to my subsequent obsession. To the white rose in Hoi An, the delicious noodle version in Hue, the simple vegetable version in the South. Your diversity yet deliciousness is inspiring.

And my stomach would like to give the Oscar for Best Picture to.....

To my soulmate which no words of introduction can show you how deeply you have affected my life, Vietnamese Coffee:
(Yes, Lucy's stomach and brain knows what our readers are thinking, no surprise that coffee is the Best Picture, you're probably thinking that Lucy is a coffee addict, and of course she and her stomach would choose coffee, that it's an unoriginal choice by the committee, but yet... )

Seriously, Vietnamese coffee you are BAMF personified. Quite literally the best coffee I have ever had in my entire life, and that's saying something. You are so rich in aroma and flavor, full and just amazing. I'm sitting here trying to describe you after already having three cups today, and it's just...impossible. I love you iced with a bit of condensed milk at the bottom that I mix in creating a creamy lush flavor that just invades the senses. Amazing. Dear Reader, ask any Vietnamese person you know about their coffee, I bet they'll say it's the best. I dare you reader.

While I won't try it since I don't really agree with practices, (I wish I could attest to it's deliciousness as well, but)...they even have coffee beans that a weasel has ingested and once passing through all the proper systems, is then ground up and made into a super powered coffee bean. (Go! Go! Power Rangers!)

Coffee culture in my opinion says a lot about a people. For many in the US, coffee serves as a tool to stay awake, to get more done in a day, to stay up to study for that final, to survive that research paper. In Venezuela, it's a frothy latte in a small thimble that is enjoyed in strength. In Spain, it's the espresso. In Japan, it's the expensive black coffee and sitting in a cute cafe. In Vietnam, it's about waiting for the water to sift down through the grounds of deliciousness. It's about watching the dark liquid drip and pool in front of you. As it gathers, you relax and chat on the streetside cafes. Each small sip of the sweet drug slowly and surely warms the soul. (Sometimes I can't help myself and just kind of...down it. It's depressing when that happens).

Out of all of the words I know in Vietnamese (thank you, excuse me, I, vegetarian, bathroom, and coffee), coffee is my favorite to use.

My stomach and its unborn food child could go on and on and on and on and on and on about food, as I'm sure you see here on my post literally just about food, but "surprisingly", it's dinnertime here and my stomach is the Queen.