ben tre, vietnam: when the air sticks to you like cheap glue

so i dropped into ben tre on a night bus from saigon and the humidity hit me like a wet blanket the second my feet touched the pavement. 24.06 degrees on the thermometer? that's like 75 f, not exactly arctic, but the humidity's 93% and the real feel is 24.95, which basically means your shirt never dries. i kept checking the pressure-1008 hpa-and it felt like the air weighed a ton. sea level pressure also 1008; i'm no meteorologist but that can't be normal. locals just call it 'the moisture' and shrug.

anyway, here's where i am:

the map shows the mekong delta sprawl and ben tre right there at the crossroads of brown rivers. i've been navigating these alleys for three days now and i still get lost. scooters zip past like angry hornets, and water buffalo occasionally block the road with the confidence of a mayor crossing a street.

my homestay is 200k dong a night, basic but clean. the wifi password? 1704929966. i asked the owner, 'is that your lucky number?' she laughed and said it's the code for the city's 'energy grid'. i'm not buying it, but it let me post a few insta stories. my phone battery drains faster than a coconut in a storm, probably because of the humidity.

i'm here to paint. i found a few walls near the abandoned coconut factory-spots where the paint actually sticks (sort of). the humidity makes the spray cans sputter, and the colors run if you linger too long. one night, working on a piece with dripping reds, a guy in a tattered ao dai came up, stared, then said, 'nice lines, but add more red. it's for the blood of the land.' then he vanished into the fog. i'm still not sure if he was a local artist or a phantom. maybe both.

there's a huge water tower on the edge of town with the number 1563926 painted on it in bold white. it looks like a code, a year, a phone number? i asked a trishaw driver, 'what's that number?' he grinned and said, 'that's the heartbeat of the city. you feel it?' i felt nothing but my own sweat. later, i learned that some graffiti crews use it as a tag for a hidden painting spot. possibly the number 1563926 is the address of an alley that only appears at high tide.

overheard in the market:

don't drink the water from the canal, even if it's boiled. my cousin tried and now he's a fish, says the lady selling mango sticky rice, never looking up from her knife.

i heard the number 1704929966 is the secret frequency of the underground radio station that only broadcasts when it rains, whispers a skateboarder grinding on a rusted rail.

the city's soul is in 1563926, that's how many times the temple bell rings before dawn, according to an old monk who sold me a lucky charm. i think he was messing with me because the bell only goes off once.

the food here is a whole other level. i've been pigging out on coconut candy that's so fresh it sticks to your teeth and pulls at your fillings. there's a back-alley kitchen called 'huynh's' where the caramel smell is so strong you can taste it in the air. i tried to haggle for the recipe; the matriarch said it's 'a family secret worth 1563926 dong.' i said 'too rich for my blood' and left with only a sugar headache.

if you need a break, vinh long is just a short scooter ride away-maybe 40 minutes on a decent road. can tho is about an hour if you like dodging potholes and water buffalo. bring a raincoat because the sky throws tantrums daily around 3pm, dumping water like it's a contest. the streets flood, but it's part of the charm? sure.

here are some resources that saved my skin:

ben tre travel guide on tripadvisor has a surprisingly good list of street food stalls, even if the reviews are a decade old.

yelp's top ben tre eats mostly lists places that closed, but i found a hidden pho spot that's open till midnight.

the ben tre community board is full of locals warning about the river's moods and the best times to cross by ferry. seriously, read it.

for a quick history dose, wikipedia's ben tre article gives the basics without the tourist fluff.

now, i've been snapping photos, but my lens fogs up every time i go from aircon to outside. it's like my camera has its own humidity problem. anyway, here are a couple shots that survived:

the neighborhood here is quiet at night, except for the occasional karaoke from a house that never sleeps. the vibe is lowkey, the air is thick, and i've learned to love a dry sock. no, i haven't found a proper espresso, but there's a guy on Nguyen Tri Phuong street who makes cafe sua da that could resurrect a corpse. order it 'ngot' if you have a sweet tooth, or 'dac' if you like it strong enough to strip paint-which, honestly, would be useful here.

i'm heading out tomorrow to find more walls. maybe i'll decode that 1563926 or maybe i'll just paint something that melts in the rain. either way, i'm sticking around until the humidity decides to let go.