Most mornings I had breakfast at my regular table on the edge of the Saigon River, shaded from the blazing sun by rows of coconut palm trees and an occasional passing cumulus cloud. Some mornings, though, the air was perfectly still and the day-time cumulus clouds had not built up enough to throw shade, making it just too hot and muggy for me to sit outside, savor my ripe melons slices, small dark cups of cappuccinos, and perfect rolls with rich creamery butter and strawberry jam. On those days I ate that same breakfast in a small room on the hotel’s ground floor, comfortable because the earth beneath its floor cooled the room.  Through its windows I could still watch the boats going up and down that storied river. I took this picture sitting in my chair having that cool breakfast – fresh mango juice, carved watermelon and papaya slices, fresh bread and jam, and a deuce or three of excellent espressos. The entire notion of having my Vietnamese breakfast in a room with rich Tuscan red walls on the banks of the Saigon River is kind of Fellini, but it sure worked!  — Dun

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