Rambutan

By the time we got to Ho Chi Minh City, we thought we'd experienced every scam in the book, so when we arrived at our hotel late at night and discovered that the owner had forgotten to write our name down in the reservation book but-- don't worry there's another great hotel down the street-- we were highly suspicious. Our suspicion transformed into more a kind of bewilderment when, en route to the other hotel, we all stopped off at a fruit vendor where the hotel owner purchased an insane amount of rambutan for us. Like 100 of them. Pink, prickly, and still on the twigs from the trees. I'm sort of amazed that I don't have a picture.

Oh right, that's because it was 2am and when we got to the other hotel, all the power had gone out.