Archived post from our February 2007 trip
Hi All, it's Ilene writing from HCMC--
One brand of Vietnamese coffee a friend introduced me to on my previous trip was Trung Nguyen. So I was delighted to see a shiny new Trung Nguyen Cafe a few blocks from the hotel.
I sat down there to do some writing yesterday. I ordered a cup of the "Thinking" blend ice coffee. Out it came--water dripping through fresh grounds in the filter, a glass of ice at the ready for when it finished (see figure A).
Looking up, I saw a woman selling fruit on the street outside the window. Feeling all smart, I pull out the camera and do a series of pictures, tightly focused so you just see her, then pulling back to make it obvious I'm looking at her through glass, in the comfort of the coffee shop (see figures B, C, and D). I have several smart thoughts that I carefully write down about how I going to use these pictures to comment on travel, representation, and so forth.
Moments after I take these smart pictures and write down these smart thoughts, I pick the filter off of the coffee cup so I can pour the thick coffee into the glass of ice and assemble my delicious iced coffee.
And I upend the filter, sending hot coffee grounds over the table, my leg, the floor, which is stone, so the metal filter really clangs when it hits the ground. Alarmed, the barrista rushes over to clean the mess, which I insist on doing. As I lean over to wipe up the grounds on the floor with the wet cloth she's brought, I bump my head on the plate glass window through which I have been photographing the fruit seller.
I sit back down, exhausted. The barrista says she will bring me another coffee. What kind was it? "Thinking," I say. I am giggling like a fool by this time.
The barristas, dressed like extras from The King and I, consult. A few minutes later, my second cup arrives. It has already been poured into the glass of ice for me.
The glass is tall and narrow and has a tall spoon sticking out of it to stir the ice as it melts. I lift it to my lips and realize the spoon gets in the way of taking a full sip.
The barristas are keeping a close eye on me. A flexi straw, unwrapped, is brought out to me on a saucer. (The final straw?)
When I write about these pictures and use them, I know I will also have to recount the coffee incident.
