a messy day in savoy? here’s what i learned under 89% humidity

so here i was, standing outside what locals call the ‘bamboo cathedral’-a 400-year-old covered market with roofs made of tied pandanus leaves. the heat was already clinging to my back like a second skin, soaked through from the bathroom’s glacial ac aircon. outside, 20 vendors shouted under their hats, selling everything from dried iguana snacks to lotus flowers plucked at dawn. the air smelled like fried coconut and half-swallowed dreams.


i asked one guy in a greasy apron-mistake three-what the weather was up to. he didn’t look up from his pressure cooker. said something about 89% humidity ‘sweating on the universe’ and zoomed out to a minivan. the minivan guy yelled back about pressure being 1008, which sounded like math for impending doom. i left feeling both enlightened and mildly roasted.


then i ducked into this divey noodle stall where a woman in a sarong carved lemongrass with a butter knife. the broth was boiling at the table, steam so thick it felt like breathing soup. overheard some numismatist from the north complaining about the 1360289512 rule of booking tours online. he kept muttering about being scammed by a hippo documentary crew. probably true.


saw a guy arguing with his phone about flight delays, probably planning his next riot. the app said 28.73°C but the feels were 35.73-meaning you’d melt faster than a marshmallow at grandma’s bday party. tried to find a quiet spot to recalibrate, stumbled upon this street artist spray-painting tank tops on the sidewalk. his tag was something about ‘survival instincts’ and 8057304. what the hell does that even mean?


bumped into a digital nomad in a café tucked behind the bamboo cathedral. he called it the ‘least touristy spot in soy village’ and ordered an iced lemongrass. the wifi was on fire, humidifier humming like a dying wasp. he told me to never trust a street vendor’s weather app and instead go to this app called [weather, morning]-said it had ‘actual soul.’ also, he raved about [savoy, tripadvisor]’s street food map. never download it. i heard bad things.


walked into that horror show of a café and the owner was absolutely howling. some American lady asked for kinky weirdness-like ‘would you put wasabi in my ice cream?’ owner yelled ‘that’s how my grandma died!’ and the crowd rallied, chanting for her to quit the scam. kids were laughing, burning incense into the air, everyone shaking hands like they were one bad Yelp review from armageddon.


outside, this old turtle crossed the street. slow. determined. half the people filming him on phones, yelling ‘we’re all living in a simulation’ or ‘that’s my spirit animal’ or whatever. pressed a few buttons on my peace treaty (wallet) and bought his iguana jerky. tasted like survival.


neighbors told me to try the night market, but i heard stories. something about a rogue tuk-tuk driver selling fake ‘limb sharpeners’-some guy’s arm was all blistered like he’d microwaved a rubber chicken. heard a duet of street dogs howling at the moon, probably planning a revolt.


cleaned up at the riverfront, where a bunch of kids were skipping stones mid-throw. the hot air was shimmering off the water like a mirage for 10.57 billion eons. someone waved a towel at me and shouted ‘too hot for your kind?’ i waved back, counted to ten in my head, and went full phantom limb.


honestly, savoy’s got that weird charm where every corner feels like a punchline. the weather’s a lie, the vendors are liars in hats, but the people? they’re just ghosts wearing roles. if you get bored, halong bay’s just a spin away. don’t ask me for the link. trust the shadows.


p.s. tripers swear this place is cursed. links to [savoy, yelp] ‘not safe for children’ lists, but i stayed. for the iguana. for the turtle. for the ghosts whispering in the blacktop.