Mopeds & Miracles

Do you remember the smell of coffee in the morning? Its gentle pull easing you into the waking world? The subtle tastes on your palate? Well forget everything you know. Vietnamese coffee is a whole different ballgame. In fact, it's not a game at all. Seriously, these people are not playing around. Coffee was introduced to Vietnam by the French. The Vietnamese took to it instantly, but in typical Vietnamese fashion, they said "Hey guys, I really like what you've got here with this whole coffee thing, but what if we..." And then they proceeded to stomp all over French coffee. They triple distilled it until one ounce equaled an American coffee. They added condensed milk to quintuple the sugar content. They made it better, faster, stronger. American coffee is your high school varsity soccer coach, giving you that pep talk to get you off the bench and playing your best. Vietnamese coffee is the neighborhood tough guy, punching you in the gut then saying "...

For more than half a year, the idea of moving to Vietnam has hung over my head. Dark and heavy, it was my cartoon rain cloud. I came to know my constant companion; not as you know an intimate friend, but as you know the mole on the back of your neck. Never having seen it in your life, you know the shape, the size, the hardness. And so the question inevitably became, just how big is this thing anyway? It's eight months big. I first gave birth to the idea when I said it out loud in August of 2007. "I think I could live here." Six words. It wasn't much of a birth - a sad little preemie on life support. I never thought my little newborn would survive, but little by little the idea took root. It overcame so many growing pains. What would I do with all my stuff? What would I do with my car - my beloved Veronica? How would I earn a living? And now it's all grown up (for those who don't know this bit of common knowledge, one month in idea years is equal t...