After fighting with the cab driver (who spoke about 3 syllables of English) for about 20 minutes, I finally made my way away from the heart of the city and into the more, let's say, "local" side of Saigon on foot and again, it started to pour. I was being way too Western when I thought that I would find my truly Vietnamese coffee accompanied by a newspaper and a decently comfortable chair in a dry environment.

The above photo was the result of my 10-minute walking survey, asking where to find the best cup of coffee. I learned, as well, that you need to specify "Vietnamese" or you will be sent to Gloria Jean's.

This woman is known in her area for her coffee and I was almost surprised to have her beckon me out of the rain, as she pulled up a plastic stool (about a foot high) next to her. She also spoke very little English, but I was quite happy to just sit and watch both her and the rain. Condensed milk is the Vietnamese way, so I asked no questions and went with it, even though I never take my coffee sweet. I did ask to taste the coffee before she poured it on top of the milk, just to make sure it was as rich and tasty as I had heard. I'm still wondering why they cut that nice, smooth flavor with that sweet, thick crap. Different tastes, I suppose.

I really wish she would have spoken English, or me, more Vietnamese. Actually, no, I've decided Vietnamese is one language I will never even attempt. The accent is in no way appealing to my ears, so much that it's the 2nd reason I couldn't live in Vietnam. The 1st being the simple fact that I'm not really down with Communism, contrary to what my SpeechComm class of last semester might believe.