Statues of Buddha, smoking incense and the melodic tones of foreign tongues...
And that was just in the taxi to Tullamarine Airport.
We apprehensively welcomed the wave of sub-continental mysticism that washed over us. And gagged all the way from the time the door closed until we arrived at the terminal curb.
Fortunately, we weren't going to India.
Vietnam was our destination. And then more. We were going up river. Way up river. About three kilometres up river to the next village where the locals were going to show us traditional skills and offer us original artefacts (read: ripping off the tourists.)
(Tbk: Anne is awarded a safe driver award and a good neighbour badge, with cluster, for getting us safely to the airport.)
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