After another late start we decided to head to the Internet café Yonna frequents. It’s in what I would call the ‘financial district’ of Ho Chi Minh’s District 1. She called a cab for us and we carried our shoes down to the entrance of her building, put them on outside, and the cab was already waiting for us.

The café is Italian, and serves food. I had a rolled sandwich of arugula and Gorgonzola. I needed to do some work for a client (I’m a little behind on my work schedule, oops), but in the short time I was connected to the wi-fi, I got two notifications from my antivirus software that my machine was being attacked. I decided against anything that would require sending passwords, which ruled out the work I was planning to do.

The café was filled with Westerners, since it was too expensive for the average local. Most of these people work for companies who have moved branches into Vietnam in the last 10 years. It was a little depressing.

Yonna explained some of the Vietnamese pronouns to me. I noticed that she used “em” with  our waitress. This means “younger sister or brother.” With women who are contemporaries or slightly older, she uses “chi,” which means “older sister.” When speaking of herself she also used “em.” When the waiter started to take away a plate she said “em dang ăn” (“younger sister is still eating”) to tell him she wasn’t done yet. I started to realize how nice this arrangement is. Everyone in Vietnam is your sister, brother, grandmother or grandfather.

Throughout lunch I’d been trying to forget that Yonna had made appointments for us at a Seitai massage studio she likes to visit. After the nearly unbearable pain of the previous day’s foot ‘massage,’ I was honestly dreading this new experience. The little I knew of Japanese massage told me that it was going to be painful. Yonna didn’t reassure me we she told me how people tend to cry out in pain during the process, but feel so much better afterwards. Yes, I was dreading the experience.

During the cab ride on the way to the studio, I noticed that a lot of the scooters around the car were carrying not just one or two people, but entire families, including very young children. And it looks like the new helmet law doesn’t apply to them.

We arrived at the studio, which was elegantly decorated, and very impressive. We were taken up a few flights of stairs by the hostess, and I was introduced to Kitahori Shinji, the Seitai Master. He handed me his business card in the two-handed, Japanese fashion. I took it from him correctly, but stupidly forgot to say my own name back. But he was extremely nice, and we all laughed about it; I felt much of my anxiety disappear. Yonna translated as he asked me some questions about existing pain or historical problems with my frame. He noticed right away that I had been pigeon-toed and treated for this as a child. He said that I was still carrying my weight unevenly as a result.

As he began to work on me, there was some minor discomfort here and there, but nothing in comparison to the foot ordeal the day before. I know nothing about massage or chiropractic therapy, but I could tell he was a master. He warned me before doing anything that was certain to cause pain, and then we both laughed after the excruciating bits were done.

When he finished all of my joints felt more free and loose than I can ever remember.  He then worked on Yonna, who seemed to find it more painful than I did, even though she comes here regularly. I am looking forward to going back.

Another cab ride brought us to a street lined with electronics shops. Each shop was small, but very tidy and organized, with all of the latest hardware and accessories for computers. I saw 4GB USB sticks for under $25. After stopping in a few places, we walked into a shop where the owner was just making the final preparations for his grand opening the next day. He was very friendly, and sold the adapter for less than we had expected to pay for it. Yonna explained that when a new business opens, or on the first day of the new year, or even the beginning of the business day, the first customer is very important, and the “right customer” can bring luck. While women aren’t particularly lucky, a foreign woman might be considered lucky. A prestigious older man would be ideal.

As we walked out of this collection of shops we passed a restaurant that was mostly open to the street. Yonna ordered some food for us while I sat down.

She explained that what looked like a slice of loaf was something like quiche, containing “pig’s ear,” mushroom, pork and fermented shrimp paste and eggs. I wasn’t paying very close attention, and assumed that “pig’s ear” was the variety of mushroom. After eating a bite or two, I asked if this was vegetarian. “No! I said it has pig’s ear in.” She later told me that the variety of mushroom used actually translates to “Jew’s ear.” Good lord, the possibilities for unhappiness.

On the way out I noticed some bowls of meat waiting to be charcoal grilled. They were sitting there on the street. Probably wouldn’t pass muster with a US health inspector.

At the end of that block we came to a shop selling motor-scooter helmets. The law was passed in December of 2007, and already there was this amazing variety of helmets to choose from.

Just around the corner was a little produce stall. Yonna was surprised to see prices on display. Generally you have to ask the price of everything, and depending on whether you are a foreigner or a local, you will get a higher or lower price. So to see fixed prices like this is unusual.

We watched as a man open a durain for a customer and packaged it in plastic for her. Yonna asked if I’d ever eaten durain. I’ve seen them, but never eaten one, so we went ahead and asked him to prepare one for us too. It was surprisingly tough to open, even for a seasoned pro, as evidenced by the husks on the ground.

But after a few minutes, and one false start with an unripe fruit, he had it open, and packaged the meat up for us.

I won’t really try too hard to describe the flavor. Yonna said it was like ice cream. I think that if they made fried-chicken ice cream she might be right. Definitely sweet and creamy, with banana undertones, but something savory going on too. Completely unique. The smell on the other hand…There’s nothing pleasant about the smell, especially after a night in the refrigerator.

We left the market and waded through the river of motor-scooters. It turns out that crossing the street isn’t so bad. You just have to wait for an opening and then move cautiously, but with a constant speed, so that the drivers can plot a course around you. It works surpisingly well.

Suddenly I was insanely thirsty. The kind of thirst where you can think of nothing but opening a bottle of cold water and drinking it all in one gulp. The problem is that cold water isn’t easy to find. A lot of people sell bottled water on the sidewalk, but it is usually warm. I’d paid 7,000 for 1.5 liters of water the day before (about $.55) but today everyone was asking 10,000 dong. For some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to spend that extra quarter. Then Yonna mentioned that there is a little market near her place. It’s a Western-style market that a lot of foreigners living in the area go to. I immediately pictured refrigerator cases full of cold water, and could think of nothing but getting to this market.

During the entire cab ride I couldn’t pay attention to anything else, I was so fixated on the mental image of opening a water bottle and drinking. So I was thrilled to walk into the market and see chilled water…and for only 6,000 dong! I bought it as fast as I could, ran outside and fumbled with the plastic seal for what seemed like hours.

But finally I was rewarded with cold water. And I’m not ashamed to admit how much I needed it.