I have finally found grass—no, not that kind of grass—the kind that Lucy will use for excremental purposes. The 3 x 4 foot patch around a tree, around the corner from our apartment, does not require the effort it takes to walk to the park every time Lucy needs to pee—a park where I was reprimanded for allowing Lucy on the lawn.
We’re not walking to the park, but we are walking—a lot! Exploring the city on foot has proven the best approach to seeing people and places from street level—the grit and grime of it—the hurry-scurry, fast-paced, motor biking energy that is Asia on steroids.
We’ve walked in search of grass, and also cinnamon, which we have yet to find. Where do they keep the sugar and spice and everything nice in this city called Saigon? Who would have thought that cinnamon could be hard to come by? We won’t be snicker-doodled, pumpkin-pied or oatmeal-cookied into obesity and diabetes in this town.
Oh, well, enough of this for now. Gotta go take Lucy to her patch of grass. Sorry for the shitty post. I’ll do better next time.