The hour before the long-tail boats start
The canal was the colour of a used tea bag and the smell was something between river silt and the…
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The handwritten sign on corrugated metal
The first time I tried eating khao soi with my hands, I ended up with broth dripping from both wrists,…
The Same River, a Different Taste
I was on my third prawn before I realized I hadn’t looked at the water once. The floating market at…
The blue apron was already gone
I found the first one by accident, which is how most good things happen in Bangkok’s old town if you…
The oil was too hot, and I knew it before the first strand of egg noodle hit the surface
The oil was too hot, and I knew it before the first strand of egg noodle hit the surface. But…
Driving the Hai Van Pass at Dawn: Why the Fog, Coffee Stalls, and Empty Hairpin Turns Beat Any Postcard
The fog didn’t lift so much as it thinned, one layer at a time, like sheets pulled off furniture in…
When the Motorbike Sputtered Out Near Km 17
The road from Hanoi to the north doesn’t ease you into what’s coming. For the first hour out of the…
The sampan driver pointed at the far cliff and laughed
We were already lost, which turned out to be the best way to arrive in Tam Coc. The sun had…
Where the Map Stops Making Sense
The man at the rental shop in Ca Mau City didn’t ask where we were going. He looked at the…
The One Rooftop in Hanoi Where You Can Frame a Motorbike Traffic Jam Against a Temple Spire
The first thing I noticed was the smell of fried garlic drifting up from the street below, mixed with the…