Distinguished bovines in the Mekong Delta

I had been forewarned about the traffic in Ho Chi Minh City, and I had not been mislead. The first wild bus ride into the city from the airport at morning rush hour involved pedestrians jumping from a run into our moving vehicle from the pavement, and us barging across five lanes (if one can describe them as such) teeming with motorbikes laden with families, schoolchildren, eggs, towering bamboo, spiny, smelly durians, and other assorted items. Later I was to learn how to cross this cacophony on foot. The trick is to walk steadily with no unexpected or sudden movements (if you start running you'll die), and if you close your eyes and put your fingers in your ears as you cross you'll probably be at no greater risk but you won't have to see or hear any of the near misses.

How to make an omelette

My first stop, of course, was for a bowl of hot, steaming phở, the quintessential Vietnamese noodle soup made with rich beef stock. I ordered phở bò tái with slices of rare beef dropped into the broth just before serving so that the meat is just about cooked when it arrives. Phở is served with bowlfuls of extra accessories: fresh aniseedy Thai basil, lemon-peppery rice paddy herb, pickled garlic, bean sprouts, fresh lime, and chillies in vinegar, oil, paste, and hot sauce. I ate half of the phở with some of the additional ingredients, and then, in a moment of mad extravagance, added all of the remaining bean sprouts and a great handful of herbs and garlic cloves, and to my surprise was faced with a bowlful of food slightly larger than it had been originally.

The other dish I was really looking forward to tasting was bánh mì, a fresh baguette (introduced to Viet Nam during the French colonial period) stuffed with just about anything you can reasonably fit into it. During my previous travels in South East Asia bread was the one thing I really missed, so I could hardly wait to get my face into one of these. Mine came filled with stir fried beef, cabbage, omelette slices, coriander, and topped with soy and chilli sauces. It's not something one can eat with grace.

Dragonfruit

I had been very curious to see how my recent efforts in learning Vietnamese would fare. The one thing I have found gratifying is how many words I recognise: on adverts, buildings, menus of course, and even in some conversations there are generally one or two words which I am familiar with. My greatest triumph, however, happened yesterday as I was cycling through tranquil farmland and tiny hamlets in the Mekong Delta. We passed fruit farms, where the red hairy rambutans perched in the trees were peering down at us like cheeky Christmas baubles, bright pink-and-green dragonfruit adorned their trees, and enormous jackfruit hung like great scaly dragon bollocks from groaning branches. As we made our way into the rice paddies, the sunlight glaring from the watery fields, we saw ducks, geese, dogs, butterflies, and cows, and I practised my halting Vietnamese with our cycling guide. "Does the dog bite?" I attempted. "The ducks speak Vietnamese," and then, "The cows are eating." He pointed out the various different animals and asked if I knew their names. Finally, we approached a wallowing buffalo, and my guide said, "Do you know what this is?" "Buffalo!" I replied gleefully in Vietnamese, and then, realising I had been presented with a unique opportunity to apply into real context one of the seemingly random Duolingo phrases, I said, to the great astonishment of my guide, "I can distinguish between the cow and the buffalo."

My life's work is thus complete.