Page 10 of A Banh Mi for Two
“Three!” she yelps, her voice somehow squeakier, and clamors onto my twin XL, which was definitely not made for pillow fights. Cindy jabs at my sides, tickling me.
“Okay okay okay! I’ll go!” This girl is relentless. “I said I’ll go!”
“Get up by yourself right now and prove it.”
I whine into the pillows. “Why now? We have months to see Sài Gòn!”
Cindy huffs. “You’re the only Vietnamese American in the program, so you’re obligated to be the most excited.”
A knock comes from the other side of the door. “Hurry up! We’re hungry!” Nga calls out.
“Coming!” I yell back. Shit, everyone’s first impression of me is ruined because of one tiny nap. Sleepyhead is basically branded on my forehead now.
I stick out my tongue at Cindy, who’s raising one eyebrow with a very, very smug smile. “Give me exactly three minutes to wash my face. And yes, time me,” I dare her.
I race down our tiny hallway and splash water onto my face before lathering on deodorant and stumbling down the stairs. The rest of the cohort is lounging in the living room, debating where to eat. They wave me in, and my ears perk up at the mention of ?c xào—chewy snails drowned in an explosion of spices, Thai basil, and lemongrass. Mom makes this dish often, and a wave of homesickness slams into me. I miss her, and I wish I could text her about my flight, about the bánh mì we ate, and everything about this city.
Together, we strap on our sandals and wander through the streets. As much as delicious fatty sea snails enthrall us, so does Sài Gòn’s nightlife. It’s electrifying and dizzying in the best ways.
“Damn, Viv,” Cindy says. “Your favorite blog didn’t lie about Sài Gòn.”
Nga glances back at us. “What travel blogs do you read?”
My ears feel hot. I wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot about blogging and Instagram and well, my somewhat parasocial relationship to this stranger. “Um, I only follow A Bánh Mì for Two.”
Nga jumps, turning to me, her eyes wide. “I know A Bánh Mì for Two! That blog is huge here. A lot of kids our age read it, and the businesses they post about get hundreds more customers the next morning.”
No way. After years of pestering Cindy about the blog, it feels great to know that people in Sài Gòn love A Bánh Mì for Two as much as I do.
“I like that the author writes about food. I mean, what’s not to like about food? Their blogs about friendship over cà phê s?a dá and spring roll–making parties on weekends made me want my own big friend group, too,” I say. “And to be honest, everything about that blog made me want to come to Vi?t Nam. Now I’m here.”
“Soooo poetic and romantic,” Cindy comments.
Nga pulls out her phone and scrolls down A Bánh Mì for Two’s Instagram feed. “We should definitely visit this cá viên chiên place they literally just posted about. It’s at the same park we’re heading to!”
My heart races. The same park? I’m surprised Nga’s even more on top of A Bánh Mì for Two’s notifications than I am. “Maybe… the blogger will still be there? We can look for—oomf.”
My nose lands right in the middle of someone’s solid back.
“Maybe look where you’re going instead,” Cindy teases. “Man, you have such a crush on that blogger.”
“Cindy!” I say, my jaw hanging open. “It’s not a crush—”
“Then a weird parasocial relationship.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. You can call it that. Wait, why are we stopping?”
She shrugs, standing on tiptoes to see over the rest of the group.
“We’re about to cross the street to the park,” Nga says.
Minh, the other Vietnamese local student volunteer in the program, extends his arm toward a busy traffic-filled street. “All right, kids, lesson number one: Learn how to cross without stoplights.”
A student gapes at Minh. “You’re kidding.”
Thank goodness we paid for travel insurance.
Motorbikes, cars, and bicycles swarm the street. None of them look like they’ll be stopping anytime soon, but pedestrians around us just jump straight into the fray. Like they’re following some unspoken rule, the cars and pedestrians weave around each other. No one slows down, but somehow, no one crashes. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and grab Cindy’s hand.
