Arriving in a developing country like Vietnam can be difficult. It’s messy, loud; jazz with no rhythm and a coked up bass player. Street food vendors have rats a-waiting in the wings. Three-story houses that you could only afford here are subject to weekly power cuts and water shortages that reduce them to stifling cinder block cells. Local friendliness is more intrusive than calming.
But four years on those nuisances fade to background noise. What emerges in their absence is the fun of being here. Even if initial intrigue and cultural fascination wane, homey comforts arrive in a place you never thought you could call home.