Love thy feet...

I love my toes!

So now we're back in the manic order of Singapore. D's back on his feet though he's lost a whole notch off his belt.

Shoe market, Old Quarter, Hanoi (I ended up buying those lime green sandals!)

But as a final tribute to our wonderful time in Hanoi, I just wanted to pay homage to the talented pedicurist who nursed my toe back to its former happy state, and to the jaw-dropping shoe markets with all manner of footwear. Hanoi is kind to feet. And it has good cake, have I said that already?

Our favourite cafes are two social enterprises that train street kids to create culinary delights that are as beautifully presented as they are yummy. One is called KOTO (Know One, Teach One) and the other is the most enticingly named Baguette et Chocolat.

Delice in the foreground, millefeuille au chocolat in the background, Baguette et Chocolat, Hanoi

It hasn't even been a full day since our return but the charm of Hanoi seems like a lifetime away. I've bought lots of funky household stuff, like two lime green trays with egg shell design and some Vietnamese art. So I rest easy knowing that I have a little part of the city in my home. Can't wait to throw my next dinner party.

Talking about parties, I've almost finished Duet by Carol Shields (who is rapidly becoming one of my favourite authors ever!)

She writes a paragraph that almost jumps into my skin - it is that accurate. She describes the tiny minutiae of life, in this case, of a woman's thoughts at a party, and lifts it to art. It's uncanny how she hits the nail on the head! Just see what I mean...

<Excerpt from Duet by Carol Shields>

And I, am spinning. I feel my animal spirit unwind, my party self, that progressive personality that goes from social queries about theatre series to compulsive anecdote swapping. I press for equal time. Stop, I tell myself. Let this topic pass without pulling out your hospital story, your vitamin B complex story, your tennis story, your Lester Pearson snippet. Adjust your eyes. Be tranquil. Stop. I admonish myself, but it's useless. I feel my next story gathering in my throat, the words pulling together, waiting their chance. Here it is. I'm ready to leap in. 'Speaking of bananas,' I say, and I'm off.

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Gosh, so wish I could write like that. Such amazing stuff. Getting the same goosebumps when I read Kazuo Ishiguro or A. S. Byatt. Such a little miracle, stumbling on new favourite authors...