That afternoon, the others left for a cooking class that SB and I elected to forego. The class was a full, five hour affair that included visiting the market to buy produce, riding on a boat and then a thung chai (bamboo coracle) to a traditional house on stilts, and then using traditions instruments to prepare rice flour before prepping and cooking a feast. They came back full and happy.
SB and I grabbed a couple of bikes and pedaled off, away from the town and into the surrounding agricultural and residential areas. We spent a couple hours taking in the sites and stopping for a bowl of banh canh (thick noodle soup) at a roadside establishment. The cook had various vats filled with spices and leaves that I could not identify, which he mixed into a giant vat of rolling stock. The soup was delicious. We finished our meal with the eponymous ca phe sua da.
We pedaled past a fishing village, rice terraces, a cemetery, and over a small, metal bridge during rush hour, which was very exciting when there are no lanes and traffic going in both directions. We valiantly faced off for road dominance against a lorry on a one lane bridge (we lost and pulled aside). We meandered down dirt paths and struggled through sand. We plunged down inclines on shoddy brakes. I slept very well that evening, probably because my hypothalamus exploded after the last bridge standoff.
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