No scooter yet lies beneath me, but I am suddenly aware of becoming just a little bit Vietnamese. After 8 months here in Da Nang, Vietnam, the previously weird begins to morph into the vaguely familiar. Although Home with a capital H remains Michigan, little guy h home has become right here. The view off my balcony – of five karaoke bars, two lit up neon bridges and the newest Dragon Bridge that really, actually breathes fire – is somewhat normal. I’m comfortable packing my own toilet paper anywhere I go and don’t ever consider drinking water from the tap, even when I’m thirsty and half asleep. Chopstick by chopstick, I’m adapting.