There's Nothing Like the Smell of Southeast Asia in the Morning

There's nothing like the smells of southeast Asia.  First and foremost is the air, heavy with humidity and so sweet it's always bordering on past ripe moving into rotten.  It's good, and even when it's not good it's strong, which is its own strength. 

Our internal clocks had us all awake by 5:30 this morning, so my wife and set out on the town.  Out the narrow gate of the hotel wedged, we were confronted by one of the icons of this world: a unused lot or corner of a lot littered with plastic bags, cups and other refuse.  Down a one lane alley is another: bright pink flowers blooming from plastic pots, flourishing in the already humid air.  Street vendors are readying their foods, the flourescent pink of roast pork featured in a glass compartment.  We turn left at the main road, startled at the already maniacal traffic.  The people out at this hour are all uniformed: women in what look CNA uniforms--though I know they're not--in variations of gray and blue; a monk in signature orange robe; men in security guard uniforms complete with caps.  This is another signature; every place that is any place has a night guard, many have day guards.

We cross a canal whose water is black and tepid; a pink baby shoe lays forlorn on the shore, more plastic litters the water.  Here the sweet smell has gone rotten to the point of morbidity. 

We've come to the shopping center, we predictable westerners, looking for coffee.  Nothing besides a McDonalds and a convenience store, both 24-hour, are open at this hour.  We enter the convenience store and are immediately confronted by some of my children's favorite fruit--lychee and rambutan, the latter of which we buy a handful of for about twenty cents. 

On the way back, the food stands are ready, and we get four bowls of pho at $1 a bowl.  I'm sweating through my hat already, and the sun is still behind a scrim of clouds.

We go back for two more bowls of pho, plus two iced coffees, at fifty cents each. 

In many ways, my expectations for this trip are already fulfilled: the sensory overload of  heat, and street food.