I got to memorialize my sister’s birthday by taking a side trip into the countryside. Our transportation was cyclo on the way out and river boat on the way in. Mrs. Mai invited us into her home, shared her betel nuts with us, smiled through the reddest of betel nut lips and blackest of betel nut teeth, and explained that an independent old dame like her, addicted to the nut, could not be expected to live in town with her son’s family. The countryside is more accommodating, quiet, serene, partial to the gait of the octogenarian (and, perhaps, to this septuagenarian as well).
Put on your cycling shoes. No one wears a helmet here except for the faster scooter pilots.