Still Fish in Stinking River, Still Amazing

[Cà Mau, 5/11/25]

My hotel is rundown and badly managed. Between guests, they may or may not change the sheets or empty the garbage cans. A dirty towel may be left in the bathtub. Hairs definitely not yours are expected surprises. The small fridge in my room doesn’t work. On the positive side, the ancestral altar opposite the reception desk is gorgeous. There are at least a hundred books on Buddhism left by the owner’s late husband.

“Don’t complain to my mother,” the young man said. “She’ll yell at us.” All day long he lies on a hammock to stare at his phone. Yesterday, his brother did give me a ride to a laptop repair shop. Though nearly useless, these overgrown boys are pleasant.

On my first morning here, I went to Café 888 around 2:30AM. There were six or seven customers, all men. Those not staring at phones were asleep. Seeing me wandering in, the baristas didn’t bother getting up from their table, so I had to ask, “Is this place open?”

On the floor were playing cards and an empty pack of cigarettes. At least one table went uncleared for the next half an hour. Seeing me snapping photos, a light snapped on inside their TikToked or waterlogged skulls. Alarmed, they brought out brooms to sweep furiously while casting panicking glances in my direction. The young lady even walked behind me twice to see what I was uploading. I couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at my power. Without bad intention, I had caused all this. Suddenly, Café 888 was as spotless as any place in Cà Mau.