It is Tet, the lunar new year in Vietnam. An American tourist is unraveling on the gutter’s edge. He plunges beer-bloated hands deep into tight blue-jean pockets. It is a futile attempt to anchor himself to something more tangible than his run-afoul luck.
“We should find a bar and become regulars.” Declared my companion, the aptly named Deliliah, as we hopped off our wheezing Fanta orange motor-bike just as a dust storm started gathering across the Mekong. Despite the exposed nature of the riverfront bar, which allowed the dust pellets swirling in from Thailand to start bruising our…
Uncharted Dives 