Everything burns during the day in the Mekong delta. I spend that time sleeping.
At night, it’s cooler. I walk to the river. The breeze carries the distant thumps of motorboats. I meet others like me who have come to enjoy the cool air. We nod at each other. Sometimes we chat a bit.
As I reach the junction, I see the night street food vendors and their stalls. Most vendors sell only one dish. I just have to pause long enough in front of a cart, and the seller will start preparing my meal. A small plastic chair appears as if by magic. No matter how packed it is, they’ll always make room.
It’s as if the universe formed, life unfolded, and humans evolved into different cultures, just so that on nights like this, you can overload your senses with sticky-rice-spicy-chicken, the distant boat sounds, and the beautiful faces illuminated by the dim food stall lights.