After a couple of days with an intense downpour, the sun is again shining. The rice paddies are soaked and brimming with fresh rainwater and as the level has risen so much, the landscape surrounding the flooded fields is now beautifully reflected in the drenched paddies. We took a long walk last night after dinner. The cacophonous soundtrack orchestrated by attention-seeking crickets and frogs made the scenery seem even more wondrous.

It’s Sunday morning and like most every other morning after Charlotte’s run and my Qigong/Yoga session, yet before the day officially begins, one of us makes a big fruit salad and two glasses of Vietnamese coffee. Drip, drip, drop.

The staple ingredient for our breakfast is watermelon and even after so many years of visiting Asia, I still don’t understand why watermelon tastes so much more watermelon here than any variant I’ve ever eaten in Sweden. Maybe watermelons in Asia are just naturally sweeter? Or, perhaps it’s because we’re subconsciously adding a level of exoticism to the eating experience? Who knows.

With any luck, we’ll be visiting a rescued pig today.