Finally I am getting some Vietnam pictures up on the Web. And before all fades to memory, I should tell at least a small story from the many experiences we had. And most of our experiences seemed to center around the children - smiling, curious, happy children. I recall one, nose pressed against the glass of a small French restaurant we were eating in. She was selling gum, and she just had that special smile. After we were done eating, and we left, she followed us around a bit, even though we didn't want any gum. We had fun joking, and her English was not too bad. Later Megan and I decided to stop at a small sidewalk cafe to eat some ice cream. We saw the little girl again, and she gave us a broad smile. We motioned to a small plastic chair and convinced her to join us. The waiter thought it a bit peculiar, but brought over the menu, and the girl ordered a dish of ice cream with fruit on it. And the three of us sat there in the warm Vietnam night, listening to the traffic and sharing small thoughts. Her name is Hwa. She is eleven years old. It can't be easy chasing down tourists to sell them sticks of gum, but perhaps she'll remember sharing a dish of ice cream and some stories with us.

Somewhere in the pictures you'll see a group of children who we met on the Mekong Delta. Well, we met lots of children, but I remember well this particular group, because a few of them began making for us little gifts from banana leaves and bamboo leaves. They were really pretty good at it, and they even were trying to teach us to make some as well. Honestly, I couldn't make them as well as they could, but I was impressed with their patience in teaching. It struck me that the kids I know aren't so intimately involved with their environment. These children from the Delta spend their days outdoors, and they really seem to be so happy. There joy shows in their faces. You'll see it in the pictures. I've broken it up into two batches. Here are just a few pictures from Saigon. And here are several more from The Mekong Delta. I'm still working on the Cambodia pictures... sorry!

You know what I like about Taiwan? Paper towels. Paper towels here are, well, just paper towels. There are no huge market struggles played out in newspaper and TV ads, comparing tensile strength, and which paper towel can support a teacup when wet, and which one has nylon mesh or kevlar reinforcements or whatever. The paper towels here are kind of small, not particularly thick, and they wipe stuff up then you throw them away. Nobody cares.

That's what I like about Taiwan.

I know, I gotta post Vietnam and Cambodia pictures. Soon.

One morning, with much focus, I was determined to iron several shirts. I think I ironed eight that day. Each and every time I iron I think of two people: John Stalzer, my former college roommate, and John Henry, my nephew. The first John ironed many shirts at a time in my life when I wore only clothes that never saw an iron. I was self-employed, and wore soft worn T-shirts and blue jeans every day. The first John pointed out that the easiest parts of the shirt to iron were the parts that never showed, especially when you wore a jacket.

I remember my nephew Jake (the second John) because he would sit on my mother's bed and watch me iron at a point in my life when I did have a job that required ironed clothes. At that time I didn't own an iron, so I brought my shirts to my mother's house to smooth out the wrinkles from washing and make them look presentable. Jake kept me company, and I made him laugh. I'd make the sound of an animal, and he'd guess the animal. It made ironing shirts much easier.

That particular day a while back when I ironed so many shirts, I was very pleased. I felt I really accomplished something. Like money in the bank, I had shirts smooth and wrinkle-free. But that was so long ago. Those shirts hung pristine, were worn, were washed, and became wrinkled again, and again after that.

We are never quite ahead, and it's silly to think we can get ahead. We just are, in a place and in a time. It's best to be content with what we have and where we are, and not to lose too much time hoping to be further along than we actually are.

I guess it doesn't hurt, though, to have a few warm shirts in the closet.

Sometimes it's good to describe place. I'll describe where I am right now: I am in a small Internet Cafe in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Overhead a fan blows my hair into my face. Another fan is at my feet, blowing air around,and yet another fan is in front of a Confucian (?) altar with two glowing Chinese lanterns around a figure inside of a fake gold shrine. Signs are scotch-taped to the walls with prices of connecting in US Dollars, and Riels, the Cambodian unit of currency (the price is $1.25 an hour)(the woman just smiled when I pointed out the lettering on the door says $1.00 an hour...).

The woman is lying down in a lawn-chair-type reclining thingy to my left. Her feet are bare, toenails red, and raised up in a neighboring chair. Some strange music show is playing on the TV near her with well-dressed men and women dancing in a line on a stage. This is interspersed with shots of a guy sitting on a fence wearing a yellow button shirt and khahkies (sp?) while he sings. The music is pretty odd, kind of India, kind of China. I guess Cambodian!

Several cases of water bottles waiting to be sold are stacked in a corner. There is a fold-up mattress against a wall,and strange shiny blue curtains on all the windows, which are tinted.

There are also two large pictures of the woman herself, I suppose a type of glamour shot, with the woman full-length superimposed on a tropical background. The poses are exactly alike, except she is wearing different outfits in each.

This keyboard is very hard to type at, as the fake wood counter it is on is unusually high, and my rattan chair unusually low. And, as I said earlier, my hair keeps blowing around.

It's eleven oçlock at night (can't seem to get the apostrophe to work),and a bare-chested dark short guy just walked in. I think he works here. The woman is sleeping,despite his banging around. The door is open now, and the hot night air blows in, as the traffic of motorcycles and trucks flows by.

My time is almost up. But here is a moment from my life posted for all to see, just in case you were wondering what is happening in a very distant country on the other side of the world at this point in time.

We are in Can Tho, Vietnam. It is hot, and the streets have quieted down some. 9:30 on a warm April night, we are along the Mekong River (just a half a block away). We have been in Vietnam for three days, and today was the most adventurous. We've hired a driver and guide, and spent the day on boats along the various tributaries and canals of the river. We walked through small villages along sandy paths, squeezing to the side for the occasional passing motorcycle or bicyle. I was taking pictures of little kids with my digital camera, and showing them the image. The screams of delight were amazing - they had never seen anything like this. Smiles, waves, from everyone who passes.

Here in Can Tho there are virtually no cars - the fifth largest city in Vietnam. The streets are instead filled with small motorcycles. There is no limit to what one person may carry on their motorcycle (I'm watching geckos crawl up and down the wall of this Internet Cafe as I type). I have seen lumber, floor fans, boxes piled high, gas tanks, and families of four (and five!) being transported on motorcyles. OK, so I've seen some of these sights in Taipei, but here even more so.

We are in a Communist country, but in government only. It's a free-market system here, yet still visibly poor economically. There is blessedly no hunger. Still, our guide talks about the huge advance in people's lifestyles since the days when the government ruled the marketplace. He says it's amazing. He spoke of the days when the government issued each family a meter of fabric per person PER YEAR to make clothes from. Whatever color they had on hand, that's the color you got. And this was not terribly long ago.

I want to type more, but this connection is pretty slow, it's late, and we have had a long day. I apologize for the lack of polish in my writing, but no time for rewrites. I must say, we are in a very foreign country! Odd to feel the French influence! Some of the architecture and some other cultural clues - fresh bread sold in shops! Not your usual Asian staple.

OK, I will make this short - more explorations on the Mekong tomorrow,and a boat ride into Cambodia on Wednesday. Our love to all....