A True Street Café
The street life of Saigon is fascinating to me. I hope to post the street life at night soon, but for now these pictures tell an amazing story of their own.

Here in this large city, the people are highly clever. Many of them eek out a living as best they can. Some shine shoes, some offer rides on their motor bikes, others sell fruit on the street. Many sell food, that they cook themselves, right there on the side walk.

In one of these pictures you can see such a woman. She has come from her home, balancing over her shoulder two heavy pots, suspended on each side of a strong stick or tree limb. The first heavy cast iron pot is full of fish, vegatables and broth. The second carries everything else; fresh herbs and spices, ceramic dishes, and even plastic stools for her customers to sit on while they eat. Today the woman also had a huge pile of noodles, which were cooked at home and would be added to each serving she sold to passers by. The woman takes her place on the sidewalk, and prepares coals to cook over, all the while leaving the pots strapped to the stick she will use to carry them home with. Once the coals are white hot, she boils her stew, letting the spices sell her meal to passers by. People who work in the markets or the offices near her will come out for lunch, and buy a bowl of her feast. They’ll sit on the small plastic stools and sometimes have a make-shift table where they can place their meal. They might buy soda or water from another street vendor, sitting nearby. Perhaps they’ll even indulge in a crisp waffle, freshly cooked over the coals of another woman seated down the way (those smell divine, so hard to resist!). After they finish their meal, they hand the bowl back to the chef, who cleans it using the hose water that constantly trickles from a nearby hose (these hoses are all over the city, and I can only assume they are for these very purposes, to help those who use the sidewalk to make their living). Once the bowl is rinsed, it is ready for the next eager customer.

Now, this isn’t an isolated experience on the street. This is everywhere, and it is how many of the city dwellers eat their meals. I am fascinated by so many pieces of this process. How far has she carried her cooking? Does she expect regular customers each day? Who has she left at home while she works? Or who did she bring with her (often there are little children running very near the hot coals, and many young girls helping their mothers cut the vegetables or clear the tables). Would I be willing to work this hard, leaving my home each day to sit on the sidewalk and cook over the fire? I wonder about myself when they call me “Madame” and ask me to try their meal. I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t dare. My stomach is not as strong as the people enjoying her delicious smelling soup. I instead smile at her with admiration for her work, and hope that I’d be as strong and clever as she were I in her place.

Amanda’s Amazing Gift

This is Lucy, sweetly dreaming in her cradle. But this is not a post about Lucy, it is a post about my sister, Amanda.

The adorable shirt Lucy is wearing was given to Madison, our 3rd Graham, by one of John’s co-workers back in Dallas over 6 years ago. Madi used it often, and I washed it often, and then I handed it down to my younger sister for her daughter Ella, who is now 3. When I handed down the adorable shirt it was not a beautiful, white and new-looking as it is on Lucy. As I said, Madi had worn it and I had washed it. And it is a shirt for a new born, so you can imagine all the little yellow spots that were on said shirt around the neck and legs. That is where Amanda comes in. You see, Amanda is a laundry Goddess. She inherited this trait from our mom, the Elder Laundry Goddess. Mom and Amanda can take any article of clothing, regardless of where it has been or what it has seen, and through their laundry goddess work make it look new again. They know how to concoct amazing laundry potions which take away spots and marks, and restore “newness” to old things. Amanda once told me she just likes to have her kid’s clothes “look nice”. And I love Amanda for her ability to make her kid’s clothes “look nice” (and for so many other reasons).

I did not inherit the laundry goddess gene. I never buy things full price, for I know they will be shoved into the laundry bin, full of food and play stains. I wash the laundry on a regular basis usually two loads each day and several more on Saturday with John’s help, and I even try to “spot treat” as soon as I can. But, despite my efforts, my children’s clothing does not tend to “look nice”. Instead, I am daily reminded of past experiences when I dress my kids. “Oh, this must have been what you wore to finger paint” I say as I pull out the nearly new t-shirt with the blue and orange stain. Or “You do love to play with markers…” as my child runs off with WASHABLE marker STAINS on their clothing. No, I decidedly did not receive the laundry goddess status my sister did, for reasons not yet revealed to my mortal eyes.

Which brings me back to Amanda. Not only did she make the shirt in this sweet picture beautiful and white for her daughter Ella’s use, she kept it beautiful and white for Lucy’s. And after Lucy uses it, and I feebly attempt to keep it lovely, I will hand it back to Amanda for her newest daughter, due in October, to have and wear. And Amanda will work her magic, removing all signs of Lucy and restoring the “like newness” of the garment for her little one to enjoy. And her darling will “look nice” when ever she puts it on. All Hail Amanda, Amazing Laundry Goddess!