I’ve spent the past 5 years living a nomadic lifestyle, wandering from one destination to another in my 6 favourite countries in Southeast Asia.

For this past Western holiday month of December, I visited my beloved Borneo, a part of Malaysia which is a rich tapestry of many indigenous groups and religions who bond together to celebrate each group’s big holidays including Christmas.

One of the most interesting aspects of my lifestyle is that I never get in a rut or bored in any one place, getting a fresh new perspective with each trip. Usually I’ll spend a month or two in one spot, although my trips to Vietnam have become longer as I fall in love with it more each passing year.

Moving from one destination to another presents no culture shock feeling because I’ve been doing it so long, so each time I arrive at one of my destinations it’s more like a homecoming. But this past time, after only 5 short weeks, I was blown away by many things when I came back to Vietnam.

My return early January started with a bang before I even technically arrived! The pace of life in Ho Chi Minh City is very fast as in any megacity, so it was a shock after sleepy Borneo, which moves forward very slowly.

The action in Vietnam started even before the airplane arrived at its parking place. After landing, the aircraft merged onto one of the taxiways headed for the terminal and some people got up, removed their belongings from the overhead compartments and started heading for the front to exit the airplane. They weaved drunkenly to and fro as the airplane took several turns on the way to our gate. 

The Malaysian crew was having a fit - gesturing and yelling for everyone to sit down, but they were ignored by all. The crew knew it was a losing battle, so they just sulked in their jump seats at the front of the airplane. It’s Vietnam, people have things to do and places to go, so quite a few passengers followed suit until there was a queue near the front door of the airplane when we arrived at the gate.

There were enough people in and outside the Arrival Hall to fill a football stadium, many holding signs with foreign names on them for pick-up and delivery to the city center. This place sure is becoming popular! I usually transit through overnight staying near the airport not wanting to fight the traffic, but the fact is it’s so busy that crossing the street on foot is a challenge. 

The traffic is like a version of bumper cars we played at the fairs when I was a kid, except in this version people head straight for each other then veer away to avoid collisions at the last moment instead of trying to hit each other. 

The trick for a pedestrian is to carefully pick a spot to cross, then stick to it, moving predictably through the endless stream of motorbikes, never varying cadence or route, letting the motorbikes swerve out of the way instead of trying to navigate through them. Tip: Keep staring straight ahead no matter what! Works well - at least to date I have not been squished by a motorbike.

Along the street that houses my favourite hotel, familiar faces offered little waves and nods - the security guy across the street, the young man working in the convenience store, the hotel motorbike valet, and the sandwich girl on the corner. 

They all remember me - I guess not many foreigners drag their belongings down the street, most preferring cool, comfortable taxis. There aren’t many Westerners at all in the neighbourhood surrounding Tan Son Nhat International Airport - they zip off to the action in the city center. Not me - I love the feel of that neighbourhood, warm and friendly, and delightfully informal.

Of course the reception girl had everything organized, true to form. She knew which floor and room would be just right, organized the bill, and off I went to my room in no time flat.

At the end of the afternoon, I headed down the street to visit the Goat Gang who runs a delightful beer garden that serves only goat. But those darned accents! I’ll never master them. I saw “de” on several signs and it confused me because it can mean several things. Finally after a few trips I caught on to “con dê” (goat).

Nobody in the Goat Gang speaks more than a few words of English, so they must have got together and worked on the menu: “We serve ONLY GOAT! No chicken, seafood, or beef! You eat GOAT here! ONLY GOAT HERE!” is marked all over the menu in huge letters. I get the feeling that their message eliminates a lot of foreigners from the equation, but not me.

I was thrilled to be there and couldn’t wait to get into that goat. Indeed, I had a serious case of food sickness while absent. I don’t mean sickness of the intestinal variety - more of a homesickness for Vietnamese food. Honestly, I was counting the days until my return to the Land of Food and I wasn’t disappointed.

The Goat Gang has curries, barbecues, hot pots, shabu shabu - all sorts of variations.  I go for the “sa té” nearly every time, washing it down with a few beers. This is not the average run-of-the-mill “sa té” by any means. All over Asia you can find something similar - a stir-fry with various vegetables spiked with cilantro and mild chilli peppers. Maybe toss in some noodles and a plum sauce and that’s about it in most countries.

But the Vietnamese goat is always spiked with “chao” - a version of fermented tofu serving as an accompanying dip/sauce that truly makes the dish. The chao is served with a nice dollop of homemade garlic chilli sauce, the two are then combined to create an unforgettable texture and flavour. Pungent, rich, salty, and with a nice little spicy kick thanks to the chilli sauce.

And that one little thing symbolizes the Vietnamese approach to food: dabbling with various ingredients and methods, using hybrid international solutions where needed, and finally coming up with a game-breaker like that chao.

The Goat Gang remembers me because I’m always slobbering over their food and able to order my meal in Vietnamese with a small degree of competence. Fair enough, not a lot of skill needed to say “sa té” and “chai bia lanh” (a bottle of cold beer). Not much, but at least it elevates me to a status slightly above transiting tourist.

They giggle among themselves and whisper comments about how I approach the feast. They also wonder what I’m up to because I always take photos and make notes. Who makes notes about goat? I do. Little do they know what I’m really up to, and I won’t be telling.

The young man assigned to me brings a chilled beer and tosses a few more into the ice cooler nearby (Vietnamese are always switched on). He knows I don’t favour the “room-temperature-served-with-an-ice-cube approach.”

Upon arrival back in my room I wrote the hotel I stay at in Da Lat to ask that she send a taxi to pick me up at the airport the next day. I provided the flight number and arrival time, then asked for confirmation, which I miraculously received before I even sent the message! That’s Phuong, the owner, she never skips a beat either - she knew I’d want her boomerang back to be sure we were in perfect synch, so she confirmed immediately.

All the above action sure was a shock to the system for the first 24 hours, and, while there is no denying this country is still inching forward in the development cycle, there is an air of urgency, energy, efficiency, and optimism unlike anywhere else I go.

We lose sight of things near to us after a while, so it’s good to travel and take a break for a bit.  

After all the countries and destinations I’ve learned that even a short absence reveals a lot, makes me appreciate things even more, like that unforgettable “chao” at the goat joint near Tan Son Nhat.