The wedding was last night. He is a very nice and hardworking man and Jack and Steven and Julie and I met his new wife last night. Last night wasn’t really the wedding per-say, it was the wedding party with nearly 500 people in a sprawling restaurant made for these events. They served us a delicious 5 course meal and we sat around and talked to English teachers and said hello to people that we knew (and there were many). There was even a live band. The bass player was one to dig: He had a black ponytail and was wearing baggy jeans and basketball shoes; he looked like he came straight from the reservation. And he played the bass left-handed.

The meal ended and Jack and I came back to the guesthouse. We decided to sleep in and then make a killer, straight-up lumberjack breakfast the next morning.

The process began at 10 a.m. We went out and had some coffee to properly wake up and then the planning began. We listed off all the ingredients that we thought we’d need and I asked Jack about the location of where we’d try to find some of this stuff. Jack drove around and I held onto plastic bags that we picked up. First, it was the stinking and dirty outdoor market. We found a good portion of what we needed there, but then we had a problem. We were counting on finding a green peppers, but we couldn’t. “Ot Da Lat” or “Ot xanh” was what Jack was asking for. Oh well, they weren’t there. Then it was off to find bread, the kind that we’re used to in America, sliced bread. It took three stores to find what we were looking for. Then what we thought would be final stop. We were laden down with supplies and headed for home. Then Jack had an idea and stopped by a smaller outdoor market closer to the university. This one smelled bad too. I waited with the motorbike and finally Jack emerged, triumphant with a green pepper. Yet another final stop for ice and drinks and we came back. What we conjured in this little guesthouse kitchen has never been seen in this town, and I can say that with confidence.

It was six potatoes (they were small), a green pepper, a decent amount of mushrooms, three tomatoes, four eggs, some garlic and chilies for flavor, half an onion, and finally, spam. We cooked the eggs separate, but when I ate I mixed everything together. We even had toast. It was delicious, wonderful, unhealthy and very American. I swear that eating the food here reduces the capacity of the stomach. So I blame that fact on why Jack and I couldn’t finish our gigantic lumberjack feast.

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