Wednesday

We arrived home in Hồ Chí Minh City a little before seven last night. Of course, because we'd been two hours early for our flight it took an extra hour before the crew managed to dislodge our bags from the very back corner of the cargo hold. Then, for the second time now, we hoped into a taxi with a driver who had zero idea how to get to our apartment. We've gotten comfortable with the many routes through Districts One and Three, including which roads are one-way and so must be accessed from points even further southwest than our intersection. We can now point our way home with some confidence, but we didn't actually arrive there until after eight fifteen. Since today is the day Miss Hương typically comes and cooks dinner for us, we didn't have to go back out. Hot shrimp and squid kabobs and pesto gnocchi were waiting to be reheated. It's good to be home. Today I'm back in our building's bar again, updating this column. The odd country music guitar track they're playing over and over is turned up way too loud; the lounge attendants are watching one of the Mothra movies on the Chinese Channel. The convenience store woman is bursting with excitement. Every time I step out of our elevator after a week's absence, the group of people who work on the first floor question me about where I've been and what I've been doing there. Today, the convenience clerk couldn't wait to tell them for me, she's bouncing around like a cute puppy. They have been in Nha Trang, she tells the others. She's not content to let me remain astounded long, turning to me and hopping up and down. I saw your wife on TV, she tells me.* [Cavin]