Despite my being biased against Vietnam, I could not help but feeling nostalgic when I am half way around the world from home. Other than missing my grandparents, sometimes the familiar smell of my mom’s homemade pho triggers my childhood memories of having pho bo in Hanoi every morning. I still eat pho on a regular basis but it is still not the same (no offense to mommy’s cooking). Nowadays I cannot really enjoy being a pedestrian because school is right across the street. But when I was in Vietnam, morning walks are usually halcyon. I was not distracted by the sight of the stark yellow-colored bus being around every five minutes. I miss the smell of the fried banana cakes that was sold by the same women every morning in front of the school. I was always tempted to buy one but I was either not carrying any Vietnam dongs in my pocket or I was hesitant of its hygienic condition. My mom would be furious if she knew I was buying street food. She usually refers them as “trash” because they are sold everywhere, which includes places that has a crowded traffic or next to public restrooms or where people dump garbage bags. Even if I did digest them, it would still be better than eating nem chua ran. Everyday for three years, I have failed to satisfy my need to devour a banana cake.
At noon, when everyone was having their siesta on the squalid classroom table, I was excused to walk home and spend my naps at someplace where I don’t cringe and whine before I lie on my back. I would always walk home on the right side of the street. Was there a purpose to that? Of course. It was not because it was cleaner, nor was it because there were fewer people sitting in their small colorful chair sipping green tea, but because of the banh cuon shop. Sometimes when I was close to the restaurant, I would wait until the lady who was making banh cuon to open the lid. When the steam escapes uncontrollably from the pan, I would nonchalantly walk slowly pass the restaurant and try not to show that I was inhaling as much smell of the cake as I possibly could. It was not that I never get to eat banh cuon. I just never got tired of it.
