I like to embarrass myself at this western-style coffee counter across the main road, whether it's forgetting to pay, leaving my work shoes, or making awkward conversation with other foreigners - all of which the employees have gleefully observed me doing. I've never been a regular anywhere, but now I don't even need to order because they know. They sell really good croissants, so the other morning when I had extra time I decided to indulge in a bear claw...except when I tore this open there wasn't almond cream inside, there was a hotdog staring back at me. A hotdog with cheese and onions. I didn't even know what to say, but this is what foreign experiences are about, right? Stumbling onto weird?

So, I was trying to make the most of my hotdog breakfast pastry when I began noticing white people running by, not at full tilt, just a casual jog, however they weren't dressed like they were on a morning run and they seemed purposeful. This was significant because very few people jog here, and never on the street, and it was a lot of white people for ten minutes at the same corner. One lady, two more, then a dude, and they were all wearing red lanyards and tags around their necks. I would ask if that globe trekking scavenger hunt was filming here, but there were no cameras.

I went to breakfast this morning with the assistant pastry chef and her boyfriend. Either she thinks my name is "Shara" or that's how she's choosing to spell it, which is fair enough. Her name is Khanh; if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't know how to spell that either. As usual, I didn't bring my camera. We went into this type of courtyard that's pretty common, looks like a elementary school blacktop and everything is painted in nursery pastels, but they told me it's more of a community center. Umbrellas and low tables in one corner and they ordered for me without any explanation. The lady came over with a wooden trencher holding a sizzling cast iron skillet. You can custom order these, and I guess they got me everything, because there was a slice of Spam, sausage link (vienna sausage-type), strips of steak, half a rare meatball, and a small fish with tomato sauce. An egg was cracked on top and you stir it all together while it's still hot and sop it up with french bread. Big ol' pile of protein. The problem with these type of restaurants is that I can't go on my own. There's no menu and I have no way of knowing what to order, so I'm really glad I for this. I have an offer from the boyfriend to drink beer with himself and his sixty-something bff on Sunday.