Harking back to a favourite subject, I was again today the victim of Vietnamese kindness.
I was about to go on a supermarket run ( walnuts , NZD $7 / 100 gram ), when I heard my name being shouted in Vietnamese accent from over the road.
Lo, it’s Trang, a friend of the aforesaid Richard, waddling over briskly from the cafe over-road, brandishing two bottles;
This chap is a ( Vietnamese ) English teacher, but despite that handicap, I gathered ’twas for the ankle, and that it contained white wine and ethanol.
He repeated the instruction “not to drink” a suspect number of times, possibly three in all.
I sniffed it – alcohol alright – but it contains another herb or spice, which has so far flummoxed my limited bloodhound faculties, and his limited English.
He’s a well-meaning sort, so assuming primum no nocere, and all that, I’ve tried it. No disaster, but an unexpected miracle cure hasn’t happened either.
Books
And because I’m too lazy to produce a separate post ….
I’ve finished the last Sherlock Holmes, and today bought the volume above ( NZD $3.30 ), with the aim of dragging it out through the upcoming travels to Dalat, and back