Miss Nha Trang

A FEMALE VOICE CALLS OUT IN A HIGH, DRAWN-OUT TONE, ‘XOI GA DAY! XOI GA DAY! I WAKE UP AND LOOK THROUGH THE DUSTY BLINDS. IT’S DARK, WITH ONLY A HINT OF LIGHT, BUT I CAN MAKE OUT AN ELDERLY WOMAN WALKING DOWN THE STREET, BALANCING A BAMBOO POLE ACROSS HER SHOULDERS, HER BASKETS FILLED WITH STICKY RICE, CHICKEN AND BANANA LEAF. EARLY RISERS ON THEIR WAY TO WORK STOP HER FOR BREAKFAST, THEY EAT SQUATTING AROUND HER BASKETS, THEN THEIR DAY BEGINS.

A car arrives at 7 a.m. to transfer me to the bus station. There are already six people packed in the car: two on top of each other in the front passenger’s seat and four in the back, with their backpacks on their laps. I’m somehow shoved in; I can barely breathe and hope we don’t have far to go. Thankfully, it’s only fifteen minutes before we stop and are briskly transferred to a larger bus, ready for our 200 kilometre, five-hour journey to Nha Trang.