This is what it looks like across the street from our house in Saigon. And when I say across the street, I mean 15 feet away. The streets in Vietnam are quite narrow.
This … is a cafe that runs alongside the river in front of our house.
Every day starting at lunchtime it’s full of young people, kids in their twenties. Kids who apparently don’t have jobs or school or places to be and things to do.
They come at lunch and stay until the wee hours of the night. At least it seems that way.
When the monsoon rains come they just keep laughing and drinking and eating and laughing …
… and every ten minutes the air is punctuated with the chant, “One, two, three, YO!”
It’s the Vietnamese youth’s equivalent of “cheers” or “bottom’s up” or “down the hatch” or … you get my drift.
If you have the misfortune of sleeping in the front of our house your dreams are guaranteed to be punctuated with the chant, “One, two, three, YO! One, two, three, YO!” and you will have the overwhelming urge to take a swig of beer.
Now, any time I take a swig of anything—juice, water, tea—I hear in my head, “One, two, three, YO!”