I opened my eyes after what seemed like an eternity of sleep. I looked at my watch, which read 04:35. How could this be? My mind knew it wasn’t enough, but my body didn’t get the message. My mind flew back to my childhood and the movie Good Morning Vietnam! I got up and sat in the window, closed my eyes, leaned my head against the window frame, and listened to the morning sounds of a bustling city getting ready to awaken. A rooster was crowing in the distance, motorbikes humming as the street vendors were moving around to prepare their spots for the coming day. After a few minutes, I sat at my computer to finish the previous day’s work.
Around 6, I wandered into the lobby and tried to find a cup of coffee. There wasn’t a maker in the room, and I wasn’t sure where to find one on the street so I hoped someone at the front desk could help me. They directed me to the restaurant in the hotel, and I spent several minutes trying to get a large cup of coffee from the waiter behind the bar. Eventually, I was handed a small water glass with a couple of shots of espresso in it. It would have to do for now.
I returned to my room and called home to check in with everyone. The rest of the crew was stirring at this point, and we all went to breakfast in the hotel restaurant.
After yesterday’s delicious offerings on the street, the complimentary breakfast at the hotel seemed lacking. It was generous enough in quantity but lacking in flavor. The piece of chicken in my soup still had feathers, and I was just uninterested. The coffee that was on the buffet had a rich, nutty aroma but tasted like it was brewed a year ago. I played around in the bowl of soup and wandered off in my mind, still a little sluggish from the plane flight. We went back upstairs, and I took a much-needed shower and began to feel better.
My presence was requested in Tina’s room as we were about to head to the market for its morning offerings. That perked me up! I was always down for a market trip. I grabbed a quick cup of last year’s coffee, blew off the dust, and jumped in the taxi. At 8 o’clock on a Saturday, the streets were already teaming with life. We headed first to the gold market. Everyone was looking for some deals on jewelry to take back home.
The gold market was well stocked and full of all sorts of trinkets and accessories. It doubled as a pawn shop, and I found it interesting to look at the assortment of sports, college, and high school rings from the states the shop had collected over the years. I’m guessing my fellow countrymen visiting here must have found themselves down on their luck. I’m sure these items had some captivating stories to tell. High schools in Indiana, and colleges in Massachusetts. I had a feeling that if one wasn’t careful, this concrete jungle could swallow you up. 
We finished our gold shopping and headed into the open-air market. I carefully navigated the street crossing as a sea of motorbikes split to my left and came back together to my right in an organic symphony of skilled maneuvering. We safely crossed the thoroughfare and stepped into the market. 
Con Market
It was bustling with action as vendors and shoppers bargained, negotiated, and traded their goods and services in the rising heat of the jungle sun. A cart was dragged by my feet with a roasted pig’s head staring from within. The stalls offered everything imaginable and some things that were not. Dried fish of every size and shape overflowed in weaved baskets lining the stalls. Piles of leg-curled crustaceans and every cut of meat and poultry you could ask for awaiting a paying customer. Vegetables, both recognizable and alien, piled high along the narrow isles. 
I grabbed a bag of simmered peanuts and some steamed roots I couldn’t get a name for as the tropical sun began to rise high into the sky. Tina and her sister bought new plateware and serving items for the homestead, as our visit there for the new year next week proved to be quite a gathering of the family not seen there for a very long time.
I offered to carry the bags, and we headed to the taxi stand before the gold shop. I stood out by the perch as they returned to purchase one last thing. The hot sun had climbed high up in the sky, and I was starting to get my first taste of the Indochina heat. A bead of sweat ran down my forehead as I gazed up at the sweltering cloud-pocked sky, and it began to rain.
We arrived back at the hotel mid-morning, and Tina, her sister, the children, and her grandmother were all packing up to head home. I was not. I was headed to the ancient village of Hoi An this afternoon and then flying to Hanoi in the morning. I would be parting with the only people I knew from home and reconnecting with them in 6 days. This would potentially be the most challenging part of my journey. I would be traveling with my guide Diem, whom I met yesterday and who speaks no English.
I escorted the group to the taxi and watched as they pulled away. Diem was at work and would arrive to take me to Hoi An later. I was, for the only time on my trip, alone. I went up to the room and took the opportunity to get some needed sleep. I lay on the freshly made bed, placed my eye mask I had gotten from the plane on my face, and fell into darkness.
