I can’t afford apples.
Well, I can considering they cost roughly the same here as they do back home. However, Vietnam made me so frugal that I cannot justify spending a dollar on one piece of fruit when I could instead spend 50 cents on a bundle of a different fruit.
After placing an apple on the scale one day and being shocked by the cost, I shook my hand “no” at the clerk and grabbed the next closest fruit. Something bright pink with green stems sprouting from the side. Something enticing.
The proper name is Dragon fruit, but the low level of food exposure I possess only allowed me to understand this fruit as a beautiful mystery.
Once I got the fruit home I looked at it the way new parents looks at their 2-day-old-baby “What now?”
I grabbed a knife and sliced away. Upon opening it I realized the outside appearance held no match for the beauty that awaited inside: a deep purple contrasted with small black seeds. Regardless of how this fruit tasted, I knew I would buy more simply for its aesthetic.
Due to the fact that the fruit spent the day lying on the street at an open market, defenseless against the brutal Vietnamese sun before arriving in my kitchen, it tasted warm and disappointing.
It wouldn’t be fair, though, to deny the dragon fruit a second shot. Especially such a cheap second shot. So I tried again. This time using my brilliant culinary mind, I placed the fruit in the fridge to give it a little chill.
When I cut into this fruit, however, it was white instead of the vibrant purple. Had I been ripped off? Was this just another version of the tourist tax?
The two fruits tasted virtually the same and I’m not still not sure if there is any way to decipher which color awaits inside until one slices it open.
Each time I open a dragon fruit (which, to be honest, can range from 3-6 times a day) I face two options: Option 1.) dread opening the fruit to a white center - which tastes just as good, but a shallow part of me still prefers the pretty purple color or Option 2.) embrace the excitement of the anticipation.
Though there likely is a very obvious way to decipher whether the dragon fruit will be purple or white inside by studying the outside, I do not care to master that skill.
Each time I open one, I learn a bit more of how to enjoy the anticipation - even if it is just the little, insignificant moment of opening a dragon fruit.
But that’s life, right? Always facing two options when considering the unknown: dread or excitement.
Nearly everything about my life in Vietnam can be categorized as the unknown. Even the question “Why did you choose to teach in Vietnam?” prompts my response of “I don’t really know.”
Each day here something happens that makes zero sense to my western mind. Only one thing is certain when I rise each morning: something throughout the day will inevitably shock me or throw me off course. I can dread it or enjoy it.
This country runs on chaos. Order would only disrupt its flow. I choose not to get frustrated. I choose not to dread the unknown. Instead, I embrace the challenge of tackling the coming day and all its beautiful mysteries.
