The monsoon is really starting to kick in here in HCMC, with driving rain every afternoon sending street vendors scurrying and causing mopeds to pull over so the passengers can put on their 2-headed ponchos.
We’ve finally gotten wise to weather and went out this morning to the Ho Chi Minh City museum, getting back to our hotel in time to do afternoon homeschool while it bucketted down outside.
Once the weather had cleared and the girls’ brains couldn’t take any more educatin’, we figured we deserved a treat, so walked up to the nearest ice cream parlour: Fanny Ice Cream.
If ever a sign deserved a photo…
You spend a lot of time while travelling staring out of the window of your bus, train or other, less comfortable transportation, so when you see something written in English it’s a pleasant surprise. I always feel like it might give me some insight into the place I’m passing through.
These three signs are all from the Philippines. I wonder what they reveal about the people who live there.
I saw this one outside a remote village school on Negros. Despite all the houses nearby being little more than ramshackle lean-tos ith ragged cloth or plastic sheeting for doors, the school was carefully painted, planted with shrubs, had cut grass and home-made, wooden toys in the schoolyard. Clearly someone had taken enormous pains to give the kids in that village somewhere pleasant to learn in. Then I saw the sign.
These signs were all along the road leading to a high school elsewhere on Negros. Clearly the locals are trying to keep drugs out of their school. And why let the truth stand in the way of a good cause.
This was on a wall in Dumaguete. I have no idea what the words mean. And I really hope that image next to the scissors is a pointing finger.
No cut of chicken wasted
Who wouldn’t order “preserved egg freckles beautiful shrimp”? Did e e cummings once turn his hand to the culinary arts?
Not sure about the morning pork glory box, though.